3 comments/ 28876 views/ 2 favorites The Buzz By: mandywilluk2000 Chapter 1 It was happening all over again. It seemed that no matter how hard Kate tried, she just couldn't stop herself. Lying in bed at night, in those moments just before sleep when you can be at your most honest with yourself, she had to admit that, in reality, she didn't try that hard. She knew that she should. All her wifely and motherly instincts told her that. All her female standards influenced by the social conditioning she had gone through in her nearly forty five years, screamed that she should. But over the past four and a bit years, she didn't and she wasn't sure whether she could or, truth be known now, even wanted to. She likened herself to a serial killer. She would go ages without feeding her habit, but then something would burst inside her and she had to get that fix, have that buzz, satisfy that craving. Chapter 2 "I'm sorry Kate," Stephen had said when she caught him so obviously looking at her bum in the tight, white tunic the clinic insisted all the Consultant Assistants wore. She had gone back to work, just after her fortieth birthday; a traumatic time for all women. She was working for a consultant psychologist in a swish, Harley Street clinic. In his early fifties, married and hugely successful, he was gorgeous. They had got on well immediately and had quickly developed a relaxed, chatty and slightly flirty relationship. Stephen loved women, everything about them, their smell, their shape, their smooth softnness and just the way they carried themselves. Although far from gay he, at times, wished he had been born female. Odd thinking from a man who spent practically every moment he and Kate were together, imagining her naked with his cock shoved into one of her orifices; but then psychologists can both create and handle such mental conundrums, can't they? Although he had never completely committed adultery, for with the warped logic of mind scientists, hookers didn't count, he lusted after Kate tremendously. Most days he masturbated about her, and when he made love to his wife, in his mind it was Kate he was fucking, not Marcia. With many people, one of the most powerful aphrodisiacs is seeing another person's sexual interest in you. With many women, the power and status of a man with whom they work closely, is of almost and equal attraction. With all of us, the loss of the 'magic, from our current relationship can be the multiplying effect for us to be attracted to someone else. With Kate, in her working relationship with Stephen, all these elements were combining. It wasn't that big a surprise really that Stephen started making remarks, which on the surface were jokey ones, flattering Kate on her appearance and figure. Deeper down though, their meaning was to soften her up, test the waters as it were and see if maybe she was up for it. It was also not a huge surprise for Kate to play up to that. The just above the knee, buttons all the way up the front, white coats with a three inch wide elastic belt the female assistants were required to wear by the new Swedish owners of the clinic, were made from the highest quality Egyptian cotton. Each assistant was carefully fitted for the coats and they fitted very snugly. Too snugly some thought, particularly those like Kate who were carrying an extra few pounds on the figure, which the aged, female fitter had measured and told her was 35D, 28 37. In her Swedish accent she had said, touching Kate's boobs and hips. "At five feet five Kate, you should lose some kilos, here and here." All the assistants quickly learned that tight, white, high quality cotton has many great features. Hiding what was underneath the material, though, isn't one of them. Some had counteracted that by wearing a slip and others by wearing bland, opaque underwear, but some hadn't bothered. So it was not that unusual to see the outline of a bra, the lines of panties, the lacy band of a thong or even the hint of an areola and the indentation of nipples around the luxurious setting of the upscale clinic. Stephen could hardly believe what he saw when he came into the office that morning. Kate was bent over getting something from a low drawer. Her thong was so obviously outlined through the thin material that he started to harden immediately. When she turned and said hello, his erection was completed. As clear as had been her thong through the back of the coat, was her bra at the front. But it wasn't just her bra that was displayed, for as they stared at each other, it was what was in it, which encouraged the completing of his hardness. And that too was obvious to both of them. Even to this day, Kate still believes it was an accident and that she hadn't worn the see through bra as a come on. She swears she just forgot how transparent the white coat could be. Nevertheless, from that moment, most rational thinking, left their relationship. That morning they kissed. That evening, when the clinic was nearly empty, he caressed her breasts and the next day he undid her coat. Whilst it was quite common for the consultants to lock their doors, Kate couldn't bring herself to let him go further 'in the office.' In any case, the conflict she was encountering by being so intimate with another man, was so hard to handle. Yes, she thought, at times, I want him to make love to me. But then the huge realisation that it would be the first time she had been unfaithful to Paul her husband since they had started together when she was twenty, hit her. Stephen was having similar concerns. Despite often using hookers, massage parlours and escorts, he did take his marriage vows seriously. He had never taken up any of the many opportunities that had been presented to him over the years. Kate, somehow, was different. The very next day, with the door again closed they again kissed, Stephen again unbuttoned her coat, but this time he eased her delicious breasts out of her bra. They were both close, so very, very close to going all the way, but somehow common sense prevailed. That didn't last, long though. For a few days, they held back, they restrained themselves they kept their lust in control. But it exploded again late one morning and Kate was in Stephen's arms, their mouths were locked, his hands were everywhere. He started undoing her coat, he pulled the hem up and ran his hands over her bare bum. He pulled the front up and sighed with pleasure at the tiny triangle of see through lace covering her pubes and pussy. He had lost it completely. All thoughts of remaining faithful had left him. The body in his arms and the lips against his were totally consuming him and he had only one objective in mind. To fuck Kate. He got one of her tits out from her bra, greedily sucked her nipples and slid his hand between her legs. She responded by rubbing his swollen length outside his trousers. Oh Kate, I so want you," he groaned, the words crashing into her mind and bringing her partly to her senses. As Stephen started to slide her panties down Kate stopped him. "No. No Stephen, not here, I can't." "Why not Kate you do want me don't you?" "Yes, yes of course I do, but not here," she moaned, not being totally aware of what she was saying. "Come to Hampstead then, Marcia's away," he said mentioning his home. "I couldn't do that, not in your home." "Let's go to a hotel," he suggested running his fingers along her wetness. Even then, even in the plush surroundings of luxury room in a top London hotel, something held them back. Yes, they kissed, yes he undressed her and yes she undressed him. Yes, he sucked, nibbled, chewed and kissed her breasts and nipples and she stroked and rubbed his cock; the first cock other than Paul's she had held for over twenty years and that was wonderful. They lay on the big bed, both naked. Their hands were everywhere on the other's body, his fingers ran along Kate's lips and found her clit, hers were slowly pumping his cock. "I want to make love to you Kate," Stephen whispered. She didn't reply, she couldn't, she didn't know what to say or do. She was so far out of her comfort zone and beyond where she had ever imagined she would be with another man that she had no previous experience to call upon. She was scared and excited, concerned and aroused, guilty and so turned on. Her body was screaming 'Let him fuck you,' her mind was saying, 'Hold back, you aren't ready.' "Oh God Kate," Stephen groaned feeling the start of his climax. "What, what is it?" "I am going to cum, sorry," he said going to pull away from her. "So am I," Kate retorted as her body started to quiver with the early tremors of an orgasm. "Don't pull away, stay right like this." And like that, three of his fingers inside her, his thumb pressing right alongside her clit as she pumped and he thrust in her hand they both climaxed, his sticky goo seeping out of her hand and all over her stomach. They never did commit adultery, or indeed do anything further. Kate left the clinic the next day. Chapter 3 As Kate moved into her forties so her need for change, fun, excitement, thrills, something new, anything really, had increased. She was in the classic early middle age, married woman, well married man as well, situation. Her marriage had lost its spark, her relationship with her husband no longer had the magic. Nothing specific, nothing you could put your finger on, but what had been wonderful was now tedium. The kids didn't really need her, she had no 'calling' in life, no strong interests or consuming hobbies and life was passing her by, and fast. She had led a relatively sheltered life. She had never been unfaithful and apart from some mild snogging at parties and the odd hand on her bum or fingers rubbing the side of her tit when she was dancing, nothing much sexually untoward had happened to her in the twenty odd years she had been with Paul, prior to her fortieth birthday. But so much had happened that was both sexually untoward and sexually provocative since that milestone. Deep down, she knew that what had been going on over the past few years was a sort of madness. It was wrong, immoral, and unfair, but by Christ was it exciting. And that was what she needed more than anything, excitement. She needed her regular dose of it, she needed the thrill, she needed her fix, often and big, yes she had become a buzz junkie. The buzz was everything, the buzz was all and when it called she was lost to it. For most of her adult life, Kate hadn't masturbated that much. The two to three times a week, she and Paul had sex during her twenties and thirties was enough for her. Even when that reduced to one or two times a week, it hadn't bothered her, or she hadn't noticed if it had. But then she found the net, then she found chat rooms and then she did start to masturbate. And the more she masturbated, the more she wanted to masturbate. The more she thought about sex, the more she wanted sex, so the more she masturbated. It was becoming a vicious circle. Her need for sex, though, did not necessarily include Paul. At first it was by herself, but then after many suggestions from 'friends' she met on the net she 'cybered' with one, then another and another until she had quite a male harem, if that's not a contradiction in terms. It was purely in words in those little windows at first. That was wild enough, she thought. But then, like drugs, she needed a stronger stimulus, a more powerful fix. "Take your panties off for me Kate," the deep voice with an American accent said down her mobile the first time she watched a man on cam and spoke to him on the phone. The words "Do you want to see everything?" came up on her screen as she looked at the waist upward, naked torso of Grant, a twenty four year old, net buddy from Vancouver. With quivering fingers she typed "Yes" as she stared at him via his cam, which panned downward to show her his quite beautiful cock held in his hand. She watched fascinated as, for the first time, she saw a man masturbate for her whilst she also masturbated for him, but she was invisible. That is until she bought a cam. True, she used it very discretely and quite infrequently and then only with guys in the US or Australia. However, the sensations as she watched and spoke to a guy as he watched and spoke to her as they both masturbated, were truly amazing. It could well be, she sometimes thought, that having sex on the cam using the PC's microphone and speakers, was just the encouragement and stimulus she needed to take her moral demise to the next stage. Chapter 4. It wasn't a grand affair. There was nothing particularly notable about it. It wasn't in special surroundings, he wasn't someone she felt that strongly about and it was not as if she couldn't have quite easily avoided it. But she didn't. She welcomed it really. It sort of got it out of the way. Yes, it was almost a load off her mind, to get it over and done, with, to commit adultery for the first time and be able to think, 'I've done it at last, nice one, job done. In the year or so since Stephen, Kate had come near twice. Once with a guy she met at golf, the other with a man she had known for some years, who owned a small book shop in a nearby village. One nearly happened in his car, the golfer, the other in the back room behind the shop. She was getting nearer and nearer in more sordid and decadent situations and, she realised she was relishing it. It gave her the stimulation, the excitement, the challenge and, what she most needed, that buzz. She was feeding her habit. "Thanks for a nice evening," Kate said to a work colleague as they left the bar in the hotel. She had been working on her company's stand at a trade show in Excel, the massive exhibition centre in London Docklands. All the team in the marketing and promotions department took it in turns to man the stand and, as it went on until ten in the evening, they were allowed to stay overnight in the nearby Ramada Suites. It wasn't really essential for Kate to do that, for she only lived and hour or so drive away, 'But' she thought, 'Why not have a night of luxury all be myself?' The fact that a number of the marketing and sales guys were also staying had nothing whatsoever to do with her decision, she thought to herself when she told the administrator she would like to stay. 'There's no way I will do anything,' she had sworn as she was chatted up unmercifully on the stand. 'It's only a drink after work,' she had reassured herself, sitting in the bar with Mark, a senior Brand Manager who she had got to know quite well. The remainder of the other, younger guys and a couple of the 'dollies' had gone to find a club, so Mark and she were left alone or, was it that they had chosen to be alone, she wondered later when she though back to that night? There really is something unsettlingly erotic about staying in a hotel on business. It's almost as if the rules of normal life are left outside the revolving doors of the hotel, as if the hotel is off the limits to typical behaviours. Business hotels seem to offer a blanket excuse for sexual misdemeanours and insist on 'What happens on tour, stays on tour.' As they walked towards the lift, the slightly tipsy Mark said to Kate, who was equally, slightly tipsy, "It doesn't have to end now does it?" Kate didn't get what he meant at first as the lift doors slid open and they walked in. "What?" She asked turning and leaning back against the side of the lift. "Sixth please." Mark pressed six and then moved closer to Kate. He placed his hand against the side of the lift above her shoulder. "The evening doesn't have to end here, does it?" He said looking right into her eyes. Of course she understood then. Of course she got what he meant, particularly when he added. "After all we both have suites don't we?" It would have been so easy to say no, to have avoided answering, or to have skirted round the issue. It was simply the sort of 'try on' that happens in business hotels all the time. The type of situation that occurs so frequently when male and female work colleagues stay away on business. It would have been straightforward, uncomplicated, not insulting and probably the wiser thing to do. But as Kate looked into Mark's eyes, saw the lust that was there and realised that it was an almost zero risk or downside situation, she wasn't thinking straightforward, uncomplicated or wise, she was thinking other things and she was feeling the buzz. Thus, as he moved his face towards her she didn't move away. As the lift stopped, they finished the kiss and Mark said, "Yours or mine, Kate?" Chapter 5. It wasn't easy for her to accept at first. It's hard for a married woman, with two kids to experience such massive sexual standards and moral behaviour changes. It is quite some challenge for her to take on the idea that at the age of nearly forty three she has become something of a bike, an easy lay, a bit of a slapper. Alright, she didn't put it about that much, she didn't go clubbing or out on the pull and she didn't seek out men to fuck, but she was, without doubt, by most social reckonings, on a slippery, downward slope. Something seemed to erupt in her just about every six to nine months. She couldn't put her finger on what triggered it or why it happened and she certainly couldn't anticipate it, but, and it was becoming like clockwork, it happened. She and Mark had a brief fling, probably a couple of months, if that. After that first night, they both, more sort of as a duty than through any strong urge, met up a few times and had sex. It wasn't bad, it was alright, ok is probably a more apt description. There wasn't any magic, though, no real spark, neither were particularly turned on by 'their affair' and for Kate, it just didn't have the buzz, the longer the affair lasted. It had had it though. It had had a buzz, of that there's no doubt. It had had it in that lift, when they walked to his suite and when they kissed inside it. The buzz was certainly there as they stood beside the bed and they kissed as he slowly undressed her until she was left in just her bra and panties. She felt it acutely as she lay on the bed and watched him undress in the dim light and she felt it even more strongly as naked, he lay beside her. The buzz became louder as she held his cock. It became more pronounced as he removed her bra and she helped him fumble her panties down and off her legs. It turned into a roar as, eventually, after twenty odd years, a cock other than her husband's slithered through her eagerly soaked lips. And that buzz became a crescendo of convulsions and mind crashing sensations as she was fucked by someone other than Paul for such a long time. Yes, she had some remorse, yes she felt bad and yes she had some guilt, but overall, she enjoyed the feelings she gained when she thought 'I am having an affair.' It wasn't a particularly glamourous affair. Neither wanted or needed dates, lingering dinners, visiting the theatre or walks in the country. What they both wanted and needed was sex, simple, straightforward and uncomplicated sex. And what they got was what so many work colleagues who have affairs endure or enjoy: fumbling, furtive meetings wherever they could be alone together, which rarely includes their own homes. But, that's where the buzz came in. She felt it as they checked into hotels, as she walked alone through hotel lobbies to meet him in the room and, mostly, as she waited, sometimes naked in bed, for Mark to arrive. It hit her when he would pull her into an empty office at work during the day where they would kiss and he would caress her. It was particularly strong those times when they had agreed to stay late 'to finish some urgent work' and they would find a quiet, secluded and safe place where they would not be disturbed. The buzz was especially strong when he fucked on her own desk, in her own chair and bending over her own filing cabinet, for she was reminded of it every moment of the next day. The Buzz on the Slippery Slope It was happening all over again. It seemed that no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't stop myself. Lying in bed at night, in those moments just before sleep when you can be at your most honest with yourself, I had to admit that, in reality, I didn't try that hard. I knew that I should. All my wifely and motherly instincts told me that. All my female standards influenced by the social conditioning I had gone through in my nearly forty-five years, screamed that I should. But over the past four and a bit years, I didn't and I wasn't sure whether I could or, truth be known now, even wanted to. I likened myself to a serial killer. I would go ages without feeding my habit, but then something would burst inside me and I had to get that fix, have that buzz and satisfy that craving. Often I asked myself if I was nymphomaniac. I did not think I was as I did not crave a great deal of sex. I did not need it every day, or even every week come to that. Compared to what I read, friends with who I could have intimate conversations and women, supposedly, who I met in chat rooms I did not have a particularly high sex drive. So it was not a case of wanting it all the time. It was more a case of not being able to say no when the urge inside me exploded. I did think about it a great deal. I tried understanding myself, getting inside my head and identifying a reason for my unreasonable behaviour. I could not find a satisfactory one. So in the end I had to conclude that simply I was a slut. * It wasn't a grand affair. There was nothing particularly notable about it. It wasn't in special surroundings, he wasn't someone I felt that strongly about and it was not as if I couldn't have quite easily avoided it. But I didn't. I welcomed it really. It sort of got it out of the way. Yes, it was almost a load off my mind, to get it over and done, with, to commit adultery for the first time and be able to think, 'I've done it at last, nice one, job done. In the year or so since Stephen, a guy I had masturbated sitting on a bench in the grounds of a hotel in Spain on a golf trip, I had come near twice. Once with a guy I met at a seminar, the other with a man I met on a training course. One nearly happened in his car after the seminar, the other in his room at the hotel. I was getting nearer and nearer in more sordid and decadent situations and, I realised I was relishing it. It gave me the stimulation, the excitement, the challenge and, what I most needed, the buzz. I was feeding my habit. I thought about it a lot and realised that what I was after was no strings sex. A hello, some sex and then good bye. I did not want love or romance, I was not seeking relationships, and I was not looking for aftermaths. "Thanks for a nice evening," I said to a work colleague as we left the bar in the hotel. I was working as a promo girl on a company's stand at a trade show at Excel, the massive exhibition centre in London Docklands. Several of the team in the marketing and promotions department took it in turns to man the stand and were supported by us girls. As it went on until ten in the evening, we were allowed to stay overnight in the nearby Ramada Suites. It wasn't really essential for me to do that, for I only lived and hour or so drive away. 'But' I thought, 'Why not have a night of luxury all by myself?' The fact that a number of the marketing and sales guys were also staying had nothing whatsoever to do with my decision, I thought to myself when I told the administrator I would like to stay. 'There's no way I will do anything,' I had sworn as I was chatted up unmercifully on the stand. 'It's only a drink after work,' I had reassured myself, sitting in the bar with Mark, a senior Brand Manager who I had got to know quite well during the past few days. The remainder of the other, younger guys and a couple of the 'dollies' had gone to find a club, so Mark and I were left alone or, was it that we had chosen to be alone, I wondered later when I though back to that night? There really is something unsettlingly erotic about staying in a hotel on business. It's almost as if the rules of normal life are left outside the revolving doors of the hotel, as if the hotel is off the limits to typical behaviours. Business hotels seem to offer a blanket excuse for sexual misdemeanours and insist on 'What happens on tour, stays on tour.' As we walked towards the lift, the slightly tipsy Mark said to me. "It doesn't have to end now does it?" Being a little tipsy myself, I didn't get what he meant as the lift doors slid open and we walked in. "What?" I asked turning and leaning back against the side of the lift. "Sixth please." Mark pressed six and then moved closer to me. He placed his hand against the side of the lift above my shoulder. "The evening doesn't have to end here, does it?" He said looking right into my eyes. Of course I understood then. Of course I got what he meant, particularly when he added. "After all we both have suites don't we?" That made me giggle. "Well that's what I's called isn't it so we would." It would have been so easy to say no, to have avoided answering, or to have skirted round the issue. It was simply the sort of 'try on' that happens in business hotels all the time. The type of situation that occurs so frequently when male and female work colleagues stay away on business. It would have been straightforward, uncomplicated, not insulting and probably the wiser thing to do. But as I looked into Mark's eyes, saw the lust that was there and realised that it was an almost zero risk or no downside situation, I wasn't thinking straightforward, uncomplicated or wise, I was thinking other things and I was feeling the buzz. Thus, as he moved his face towards me I didn't move away. As the lift stopped we finished the kiss and Mark said, "Yours or mine?" * At first, it was not easy for me to accept. It is hard for a married woman with two kids to experience such massive sexual standards and moral behaviour changes. It was quite some challenge for me to take on the idea that at the age of nearly forty three I had become something of a bike, an easy lay, a bit of a slapper or a slut. Alright, I didn't put it about that much, I didn't go clubbing or out on the pull and I didn't seek out men to fuck. I was careful with both who I went with and where I did it. I took few if any chances. But if asked and if he was mildly fanciable I did not say no either. I was, without doubt, by most social reckonings, on a slippery, downward slope. Also I was showing the characteristics and behaviours of a slut. Something seemed to erupt in me about every six months or so. I could not put my finger on what triggered it or why it happened and I certainly could not anticipate it, but, and it was becoming like clockwork, it happened. Mark and I had a brief fling, probably a couple of months, if that. After that first night, we both, more sort of as a duty than through any strong urge, met up a few times and had sex. It wasn't bad, it was alright, ok is probably a more apt description. There wasn't any magic, though, no real spark, neither of us were particularly turned on by 'our affair' and for me, after the first couple of times it just didn't have the buzz. It had had it though. It had had a buzz, of that there's no doubt. It had it in that lift, when we walked to his suite and when we kissed inside it. The buzz was certainly there as we stood beside the bed and kissed as he slowly undressed me until I was left in just my bra and panties. I felt it acutely as I lay on the bed and watched him undress in the dim light and I felt it even more strongly as naked, he lay beside me. The buzz became louder as I held his cock. It became more pronounced as he removed my bra and I helped him fumble my panties down and off my legs. It turned into a roar as, eventually, after twenty odd years, a cock other than my husband's slithered through my eagerly soaked lips. And that buzz became a crescendo of convulsions and mind crashing sensations as I was fucked by someone other than Paul for such a long time. Mark was married with two children. His wife, though a little plump, was pretty, with nice hair and big tits. We had met a couple of times at company events and I liked her, we got on well. Mark had met Paul as well and they got on ok too. We could easily have gone out to dinner as a foursome and would have got on well, that is if Mark had not been fucking me. He and I, though, never talked about our family situations or our partners. It was as if they were off limits. In fact we did not talk about much other than the company and sex. It was better like that, we both felt. Yes, I had some remorse, yes I felt bad and yes I had some guilt, but overall, I enjoyed the feelings I gained when I thought 'I am having an affair.' It wasn't a particularly glamourous affair. Neither of us wanted or needed dates, lingering dinners, visiting the theatre or walks in the country. What we both wanted and needed was sex, simple, straightforward and uncomplicated sex. And what we got was what so many work colleagues who have affairs endure or enjoy: fumbling, furtive meetings wherever we could be alone together, which only once included one of our homes, his. But, that's where the buzz came in. I felt it as we checked into hotels, as I walked alone through hotel lobbies to meet him in the room and, mostly, as I waited, sometimes naked in bed, for Mark to arrive. The buzz was very pronounced when he pulled me into an empty office at work during the day. Usually with me leaning against the door we would kiss and he would caress me generally getting his hand inside my top and onto my boobs and occasionally easing them out of my bra. It was particularly strong those times when we had arranged to stay late 'to finish some urgent work.' We would find a quiet, secluded and safe place where we would not be disturbed. Sometimes we just groped each other and that gave me a nice buzz. But the buzz was especially strong when he fucked me on my own desk, in my own chair and bending over my own filing cabinet, for I was reminded of it every moment of the next day. Where the buzz was at its strongest, though, surprisingly, was when we had sex in one of our cars in a secluded car park or field in the countryside. Being as good as naked in a place where we could be caught was such a turn on to I that I hardly needed his cock or fingers in me to start to climax. In between my sexual wanderings my life was just as normal and seemingly respectable as it had been for all of my married life. I was an attentive, caring and supportive, but not cloying mother, a good wife, a great homemaker and a sound worker in my job. I became a stalwart at the tennis club and got more into golf. So apart from when I 'went off the rails' and started fucking some bloke, things appeared to Paul, the kids, my friends and co-workers to be normal. But I still had the need for that buzz. During the next couple of years, there was James, my personal trainer at the gym and my first younger man, Allen a guy I had met at the golf club, Carl, a rather amazing one-night stand and the book store owner Gordon. None of them were serious, none were heavy on either side, none really went beyond occasional, no strings attached sex, although I and Gordon did become like fuckbuddies. To my, slight credit, I did not go with all that tried. There were several men at the golf club, a few I met at work and a neighbour who I turned down. With most of them it was because of the risk, the extra likelihood of being caught that made me reject them, although a couple were fat and totally unfanciable. Then I met James and he was a revelation to me. I had started using a gym. As I was going ostensibly to lose weight and was not sure I would persevere, I had not joined but went on a pay as you go basis. I found the whole thing fascinating. The machines, the blaring music and the plasmas created such an amazing atmosphere. The number of people, their, usually scanty, clothing, their bodies and the bare flesh excited me. The straining biceps, the pumping calf muscles, the chests, the buttocks and, with the girls, their bouncing boobs, started to give me the buzz. Being with strangers in the pool, the steam rooms and jacuzzis in my swim-suit, men staring at my breasts, all added to that and I became a gym junky. So, when James came onto me, as he did to numerous attractive 'older' women, I was well primed for it. When he suggested a drink after work, I was ok with that. When I gave him a lift home, he didn't have a car, and he kissed me, I was prepared for it and when, several evenings later, after another lift home he caressed my breasts, I pretty much welcomed that. So, when several days later he invited me to his small flat, clearly for sex, I was up for it. I knew nobody at the gym, it was several miles from where I lived and they had no contact details for me so I could vanish from James' life as easily as I entered it. 'The bike is about to be ridden again' I thought, hating myself at, but being thrilled by, the prospect of, being fucked by him. This was not an unusual event- for James or, indeed, for several of the PTs. They had come to see shagging birds of all ages as almost their right and 'servicing' nearing middle-aged women as their duty. From the very first time he worked with me on my initial assessment he knew he would have me. He knew equally well that once he had fucked me, he would dump me. He always did, that's just how it was, part of the game. If they did not, then many women particular us older ones became too clingy and too demanding, he told me quite casually. "If you let it run on then, sooner or later, you will hear those dreaded words that without any doubt whatsoever signal the end, "You do love me don't you?" He told me as we lay naked on his narrow bed in his bedsit. The fact that he wanted to have sex with me was not the revelation, I had by now got used to the fact that men were attracted to me. It was a little scary, however, for he was a young, well-tuned, fitness instructor who, presumably, I assumed, had sex with some of the female instructors. They had equally well-tuned bodies with figures like stick insects and no excess flesh at all. Not a bit, I worried, like my wrinkles and thinning skin. No, that was not the revelation. Nor was my agreeing to go to his flat, him quickly undressing me, us both doing oral or him fucking me on the floor of his flat within moments of my arrival, a revelation. The revelation soon dawned on me though. And it didn't dawn the next day, week or month, it dawned that afternoon. It started to dawn when less than half an hour of being shagged on the floor of his flat, I was bent forward over the back of a chair being shagged again. It dawned even more when, just a couple of hours later after we had an Indian take away that I paid for, we were in his bed having sex again. I had, of course, forgotten, if I had ever really known about, the amazing stamina and incredible recovery powers of young men. I was sure it hadn't been there with Paul and me when we were young, and I didn't recall it in any of the other, few, lovers I had in my teens. But it was certainly there in the six week or so affair we had that autumn. Our 'arrangement' took on a pattern. James worked until ten four days a week and most weekends. Our opportunities to meet, therefore, were rather limited. I could not easily get away at weekends and late night meetings were impossible. We had two windows. Mornings before James' start time of eleven and his day off. We used both to the full. I changed my days of work so I could see James on the afternoon of his day off. Then, I would go to his flat around mid-day. We didn't do anything but fuck. No meals, no going out, no drinks and no contact with anyone else, just sex. But that was all I wanted, that's what no strings sex is all about. About twice a week I would go to his flat for 'breakfast' as we called it, but again we ate little other than ourselves. Two quick shags and a cup of coffee set us both up for the day. I knew it was totally demeaning. I knew that my behaviour with James was really quite disgraceful. I was completely aware that I was in danger of making a fool of myself, but I had never experienced such sexual frequency and intensity that I did with him. It was, of course, his amazing stamina and recovery powers. Well to me they were, but when I did some research, four times in an evening for a twenty three year old was pretty much par for the course, I learned. 'God what a lot I missed out on,' I thought one afternoon as he fucked me for the fourth time in six hours. 'Perhaps that's why I am doing all I can now to make up for what I missed,' I mused smiling. I had experienced that wonderful roller coaster ride of being taken near to an orgasm, then held there for some time, without fully climaxing by several guys. What I had never experienced was having that done to me four or five times in such a short time. Visiting James, I often thought, must be a little like visiting an opium den, a constant high. But it didn't last, it couldn't and neither of us expected it or really wanted it to. It was like a firework, a sudden explosion as it burst into life, a cacophony of amazing action for a brief time then a fizzling out as the power and intrigue were satisfied. He didn't give me up as he had most other 'oldies' and I didn't walk out on him. It simply had its time then finished, something James was very used to and something that I was becoming familiar with. It had had its day. * It was inevitable really that, as time went on and as my 'flings' became both more frequent and daring, I would take more risks. Well not take risks as such, but be more open, be more receptive to advances from men 'closer to home' as it were or, as some termed it, start to 'pee on my own doorstep.' I found myself responding easier to men at parties and other events, even when Paul was there. I started to flirt and wear more revealing and, as the work at the gym with James, the exercising not necessarily the shagging, reduced my weight, tighter clothes. I went out with the girls from work or the tennis club more often, sometimes even ending up in clubs, dancing and drinking quite late. I enjoyed the banter, the double entendres and the suggestive remarks at work, the golf club and at tennis. With James becoming a pleasant, but rather disturbing due to the manner in which I demeaned myself, memory, I got on with my life. The really odd thing, I began to find, was that the more 'naughty' I was, the more flings I had and the more sex I had on the side, the better I and Paul seemed to get on, even in bed. This also transmitted itself to my relationship with the kids and my role running the house. It was almost as if I had to try harder and create a better environment as atonement for what I was doing behind their backs: a little like the husband starting to bring flowers and other gifts, although I was not as obvious as that, but then I am a female aren't I? Allen was a 'self-made man.' A wheeler dealer, an entrepreneur a businessman; some said he was a crook, others a tax fiddler and most that he dabbled a lot, having 'fingers in many pies.' He had several shops, a number of market stalls, a property development company, a storage business, plant hire, skips, a few pubs and clubs and, so it was rumoured, a number of massage parlours, brothels really. Whatever he did, he made a stack of money and he was tremendously charismatic. He was flash, but in an innocent and almost naïve way. He had a Bentley and a Porsche and Mrs Allen a top level Rangerover sport; personalised number plate of course. They had a huge house near the golf club, a flat in town and holiday homes in Marbella, Florida and South Africa. He kept boats at Port Solent near Portsmouth and Chelsea harbour in the UK and one tied up outside his house on the Intra Coastal waterway just outside Miami and he flew his own helicopter. The Buzz on the Slippery Slope I didn't know him well. I saw him at the golf club occasionally, more at functions with his child-like looking, false boobed, collagen and botox injected and surgically enhanced faced wife Ellie, than actually playing. Paul knew him for he had once placed some ads for one of Allen's companies and they had played together several times. Was it flattery? Was I impressed by him? Was it his money, his power or simply his immense charm and he really did have that? Or maybe it was the mystery, the danger, the 'flirting with the devil.' I didn't know just what it was or why I was sitting in his helicopter that morning. It was probably his charismatic personality more than anything else. I and Paul and Allen and Ellie had been seated on the same table at a golf club do. Allen had been fairly, but not overly attentive to me during the meal. I had noticed, though, that his gaze held mine just that tad longer than was necessary as he asked questions, and he asked a lot. It was part of his charm, part of his charisma that he seemed so interested in everything about me and that is hugely flattering from a multi- millionaire. After the dinner, we had danced. He had held me tightly, possibly slightly tighter than he should have done. Like many men, his hand had ran up and down my back, rubbing, not overtly, but clearly suggestively on my bra strap and just touching the flair of my bum and the elastic of my thong. "Thanks Monica that was lovely," he had said, giving me a quick peck on the cheek as he led me back to the table. There was no one else left at the table, they were all dancing or had gone to the bar, so Allen sat down next to me, very close. We chatted, easily and relaxed. His knee touched mine. He didn't move it away, so I did. It came back and pressed. I did the same thing, but not the third for then I left it there, it felt nice. But what felt even nicer was the buzz; it was happening, it was ringing in my ears and roaring through my brain. His hand had dropped beneath the table, I had watched it go. It landed softly on my leg, above my knee, just on the hem of my 'little black, off the shoulder, low cut, short and tight number.' He looked at me. With my new-found confidence in such 'being pulled' situations, I had held his gaze, something a while ago I would never have done. "Let's dance again," he had said, running his hand suggestively a few inches up my black, stockinged leg. That time, without any doubt whatsoever, he did hold my too tightly. My breasts were squashed arousingly against his chest, his bulge was pushed excitingly against my mound and stomach and his hand ran unashamedly over my bum telling him clearly that I was wearing a thong. That time, he slightly pinged my bra strap and the waist band of my panties clearly enquiring as to my 'availability.' I did nothing to deter or attract him, but my heart was pounding as the buzz got stronger and stronger. The evening had progressed to the stage where at just before one he had asked for my mobile number. That was after he had assured himself of my interest, by squeezing my bum as we danced, by holding me so his hand pressed against the side of my boob and by brushing his lips across mine as we kissed after a dance. "You are a very attractive woman Monica," he told me as we sat on the patio outside the clubhouse and he smoked a cigar and I puffed one of the five or so Marlboros I smoke each month. "Perhaps we could have lunch some time?" "Would that be as two couples?" "No four's a crowd, just us." "I am not sure Mrs Allen would be too happy would she?" "Mrs Allen would have no need to know as I am sure Mr Monica wouldn't would he?" "No not necessarily, but these things have a habit of getting out, someone might see us for instance." "Don't worry about things like as no one will." "How can you be so sure?" "Firstly it is my business to know. As you may know I am a rich man and a divorce would be financial disaster for me." "Yes but how does that help the situation?" "It doesn't but does let you know how discrete I have to be." "True and the second thing?" "We will have lunch in France." I gave him the number and two days later I was sitting in his helicopter as he flew us to Le Touquet for lunch. "Oh God yes." "That's amazing." "You are fucking incredible," were just a few of the compliments Allen showered on me in the suite at the Westminster Hotel. A chauffeur driven Mercedes had met us at the airport. It had whisked us to the hotel. He walked straight to the elevator and up to the suite, clearly having some pre-arrangement for he didn't check in. 'Maybe he owns the place,' I had smiled as I looked impressively around the huge suite. A whole, cold poached salmon and bowls of oysters and huge prawns sat on a serving table together with loads of different salads and bottles of water, but no wine. The meal was delightful. Allen was incredibly attentive and enormously charismatic sitting across from me I eating the prawns and oysters with his fingers. I did the same. They each had a small piece of salmon. "Would you like desert?" He asked, "We can ring the kitchen for anything." I said I didn't. "I have my figure to look after." That brought a broad smile to Allen's face. "I was going to ask you about that." I momentarily panicked. 'What's he mean?' I wondered, but said. "What were you going to ask?" Without missing a beat, without the slightest embarrassment and without even sounding pervy or cheesy, he replied. "To see it of course ." 'Wow' I thought, "What a line, what an opening, what a come on?" I was lost, I knew that. I was out of my depth, in too deep, over my head. He was simply just too sophisticated, too experienced, too sexually proficient and yes, I kept coming back to it, too charismatic; I had no way of resisting him. From there on the afternoon became pure sex. He was, without a shadow of a doubt, the most confident lover I had ever been with. And that confidence spilled over to me as his charisma captured me. As it moulded me into his arms, as it undressed me, as it undressed him and as we lay on the bed naked. And it was his charisma; I felt afterwards, that had caused me to be kneeling between his legs, his cock in my mouth, my throat full of his cum with little dribbles of it running over my lips and down my chin, no more than thirty minutes later. * That was my forties, my early middle-age. Paul never found out although I think he possibly suspected something, but not on the scale I did it. There were a few other odds and sods. A couple of one-night stands, a few flings that lasted a week or so and several more like those described. I guess in the ten year period in which this all happened I went with twelve guys or so, I did not keep records for obvious reasons. It was my time of being selfish, doing what I wanted, getting what I had missed. Or are they just excuses? Was I not really just acting as I wanted to, as my body suggested me and my mind permitted? Was it not the real me coming out, my inner-self being exposed, my innate behaviour and characteristics coming to the fore? Yes it probably was. Yes I was probably being selfish, cheating on my husband and having my cake and eating it. For yes, during those mad years as I lived for the buzz I acted the role of a slut. But was I really acting? Fuck knows and who cares, I enjoyed it. The Buzz Pt. 01 "This can't be real." I thought to myself, staring at them intently. At 19 years of age I'd still never seen a real life pair of breasts until today. In high school, a group of us had managed to dare the girl with the biggest chest in the year to quickly show us one. But it was a fleeting glimpse, and I didn't personally happen to catch a good look at the nipple that time. This time was different, however. Sitting on the dry sand at the top of the beach, only a few feet away from where I was sitting was a topless girl. She looked a couple of years older than me, with a head of jet black hair. Despite being quite a petite girl, she had a formidable bust. At least a D-cup. Probably bigger. I looked at my watch. It was one of the few times since getting it that I'd worn it. The time was always wrong on my phone, which I usually kept off anyhow. So it was important to have some sort of time reference today. I was supposed to be meeting some friends. We were renting a house and I was meant to have gone to the house to get the keys with them about five minutes ago. But I was transfixed. "Is this even legal?" I asked myself. As far as I was aware, this was not a topless beach. No one else was topless, only her. Not that I was complaining. I wasn't going to be the one to tell her to put a bra on. If she didn't move for the next week, there was a good chance that I wouldn't either. Her hazel eyes met mine and settled there. It was a normal sort of eye-contact on her part. It was as if it didn't even occur to her that I was overwhelmed by the visibility of her breasts, or that they were even visible at all. I can only imagine my eyes looked somewhat less peaceful. Even if she'd been wearing a top, the fact that she was a pretty girl would have been enough to have me awkwardly looking, pretending not to be too interested. But with her cleavage on full display, it was all I could do to even maintain eye-contact, my gaze drawn to her tits like some sort of powerful magnets. Still she said nothing. It felt like I'd been staring for hours. There was no way she didn't realise what had caught my attention. I stopped to wonder if I was the only one taking notice. I hadn't been looking around to see other peoples' reactions. I wasn't going to take my eyes of a pair of hooters for that little piece of social behaviour research. Of course, I was probably the only person on the beach who was this much of a novice when it came to boobies. Most of the people I'd seen on the beach earlier had been middle-aged, which made the find of an early-twenties sort of an age of a girl, with her ample rack in full view all the more interesting a specimen. But most people by their thirties or forties would have seen enough nipple so that it might only merit a passing glance, rather than the marathon stare-off I was having with them. I began to consider getting up and leaving. It wasn't good of me to leave my friends hanging. But how many times was an opportunity like this going to present its self? What if I returned later, only to find that the large-breasted girl had moved on? "That would haunt me for a long time." I thought to myself. "At least until I see another pair that good in the flesh again." Since the first set had taken so long to come along, I wasn't holding my breath waiting for a follow up. Besides, I could hardly walk. Would that be a satisfactory explanation as to why I was late? "Sorry, guys. You should have seen the tits on the girl I saw. The sight gave me such an erection that moving became physically impossible." When I thought about it that way, of course it was ok. But would they believe such a story. It's not like girls get their tits out often around here. I reached into my pocket and produced my phone. Turning it on, I debated in my head what to do. I could call them or wait for them to call me. They'd probably call me any minute, asking where I was. Doing that would seal it. I'd have to make a move then. I could take a picture though. Granted, it wouldn't be the same, and that would be with a good camera. This was a crappy, non-smartphone sort of a camera. Whether they would even be recognisable as breasts was unclear. Plus, I wasn't keen on the idea of being seen taking a picture. She was still looking straight at me. It would be pretty obvious if I took a snapshot, no matter how covertly I did it. Maybe she had a boyfriend. The kind who would probably beat me to a pulp for trying to get a souvenir of my encounter with his girlfriend's big tits. The photograph idea became less and less appealing by the second. I quickly switched my phone off, just in case my friends called me, put me on the spot and ended my quality time with the topless beach girl. My heart skipped a beat though, as she began to apply sun cream to her breasts. Not her body in general, but specifically her breasts, as if she was using all resources to protect the most important part of her. Still she maintained eye-contact, not seeming to notice my blushing or awkward demeanour. Was this an invitation? Clearly she had no problem with me getting a very good look. Would it be in my best interests to pursue this? Without really thinking it through I got up and started walking over. The bulge in my shorts was fierce, and one that wasn't possible to overlook as I stood over her. "Hi." I said, trying to act casual. "Want to put your penis in-between my breasts?" She replied. My heart nearly gave out. No hello, no introduction or even an exchange of names. It was straight to the point. How long had she been hinting at this? Was that her intention from the moment she whipped her bikini top off? "Is that allowed?" I asked, nervously. She shrugged. "I don't care. I'm not sure what I'm doing right now is allowed. No one's stopping me though." I nodded. Whilst many would gladly walk past, casually take a look at her breasts and carry on, largely unoffended, I feared that the sight of my erect penis resting between her boobs might provoke the more prudish qualities of the beach-folk to come out. "If you're very afraid, we can go behind that big rock over there." She said pointing. Without waiting, she got up and led the way, not interested in my answer. Naturally, I decided to follow. Behind the large rock we were indeed hidden from view. She lay down on the sand. There was no signal to get started, but that's how she seemed to roll. Looking to do it, lest she change her mind, I pulled out my penis from my shorts. Though I'm not the tallest or most heavily built, in fact I fall nearer the bottom end of that spectrum, my manhood was an impressive one, just under 7 inches and uncircumcised. She said nothing as I squatted down onto her, resting my body on her abdomen, trying my best not to hurt her. I slid my penis between her boobs. Still, not so much as a flicker from her face to express any kind of emotion, nor a word to put me at ease. She certainly seemed the cold and distant type. But she was letting me fuck her boobs. I began to thrust, back and forth, very slowly. It was at this point she put on a pair of sunglasses. I began to build up my speed, using my hands to press them together, increasing the friction. My heart pounded as her breasts rubbed against my cock. It was embarrassing how quickly I was nearing my climax. I didn't get the impression she was going to be overwhelmed by me last for about three minutes between her tits. I slowed way down, doing my best not to humiliate myself. I managed to drag about an extra two minutes out of it before it happened. My balls tensed up, then the shaft of my penis, shooting thick streams of white slime onto her boobs and neck. "If I'd known I was going to be getting one of these, I wouldn't have jerked off all week." I thought. Mind you, if I'd known I was going to be fucking a pair of hot tits for a week, I doubt there would have been one day where my horniness didn't get the better of me. When I finished cumming I looked at her again. Still she seemed unphased, as if this was really normal. Like an everyday occurrence. Maybe it was. I didn't know her. Perhaps everyone in town had got one off her. She began to wipe away my discharge with a tissue as I got off of her. Still she said nothing. It was really weird. All my life, I'd thought of sexual acts as very intimate. But she just seemed so distant from them, even when it was her idea. "Why did you ask me to do that?" I asked. "I asked if you wanted to. You said yes." She replied, bluntly. "But why? You didn't seem into it at all." "Did you like it?" She asked. "Yes." I swiftly replied. "Then don't concern yourself. I'm Megan, by the way. If you're interested, there's a house party at my student accommodation." She said, opening up the tiniest bit now. "Are all the girls like you?" I asked. "Yes." She answered, again coldly. What did that mean? All the girls were just as distant and soulless in their persona, or just as eager to fuck me? I knew for sure that I wouldn't be hanging around with my friends that night. The Buzz Pt. 02 Now what was I going to do? I was playing the last half an hour over and over in my head. It didn't seem real to me. Not once had I even got close to doing something like that, and then it just happened out of nowhere. It was like using cheat codes to skip to the last level of a game. Had I heard her right? There was more of this later? Well, not exactly. There was a party later, with girls I had been assured were much like herself. If this was how things rolled round here, they could count me in. I'd spend all summer up here. But how was I going to get around my existing commitments? I was pretty late for settling into our rented house, and for that my friends would probably be a little annoyed. But if I didn't arrive all day, they would become genuinely worried, no doubt. The last thing I needed was a search party out looking for me while I was trying to transition to manhood. Walking in the direction of the holiday home, I pondered the options over in my mind. "I could hang out with the guys now and then make up an excuse about later." Would that work? No. Why would I need to be somewhere without them up here at the coast. I don't know anyone here, and they know that. They'd suspect something. "I could invite them along too." Would that work? No. Megan hadn't said "bring half a dozen friends too." Plus, what if they got in the way? A large part of our friendship was making each other look stupid. If I looked like a weirdo no one would be getting into bed with me. I needed something that would free me up for the night. But that's when it occurred to me, I didn't even know where this party was. After arriving at the holiday home, and taking a scolding from my friends for my absence, I looked through some maps and leaflets to see if I could get any clues as to where I was supposed to be going. As luck would have it, the same landlord that rented us our holiday home also did the student accommodation around here. All the available houses for the year were in the same sort of area. That really narrowed down where to look. If I could get an excuse to get out, I had a good chance of finding this place, and getting up to all sorts when I did. The laziness of my friends was their Achilles heel tonight. Only moments after I'd been thinking up awful excuse after awful excuse, I was nominated to collect the pizzas they'd order, saving the delivery charge. It was perfect. It was destiny. I did pick up the pizzas. I thought it might help me look less disturbing, walking around the houses, trying to see who was inside. "I could just be a delivery boy, looking for the right house." I told myself. A lot of the houses looked very similar, so it was sometimes hard to remember if I'd checked one before. Not all of them were student houses, so I wasn't checking in a very linear pattern either. Once you factor in that some of the door numbers were missing, the task really became quite tricky. Then I came to a house with a familiar smell of cannabis as well as all of the curtains pulled closed. Figuring this could well be the place, I knocked on the door. It was promptly answered by a tall blonde girl, covered in piercings and tattoos and wearing colourful, loose-fitting clothing. As I froze for a moment, not quite sure how to start, she quickly turned away, walking out of sight into another room, but leaving the door open. I could hear whispering coming from the room before everything went silent. "Come in." Sounded a familiar voice, and I promptly obliged. Closing the door behind me, I walked slowly into the hall, turning right a heading into the room from where I'd heard the voices. It was dark, the curtains pulled and only faint candles, rather than utilising the electric lighting. Though it had sounded from outside like there had been many girls in here, I only saw Megan and the blonde girl who had opened the door. "Sorry, I thought there were more people than this. I thought you said you were having a party. Or am I really early or something?" I ask, hoping I wasn't coming across as too rude. "Oh, we are having a party." Megan replied, eerily. "There are four more girls upstairs. You'll be meeting them later." "Oh, cool." I answered. "You'll be having sex with one of them too." Megan added. I was stunned. I'd been hoping Megan was going to have sex with me personally. But it was still more than I could have dreamed of, having only got a good look at a set of tits hours before. Looking around the room, the girls were certainly into their occult stuff. It wasn't just the dark room or the candles, but there were magic symbols and creepy looking books sitting about as well. Though a little unnerving, there was a good stereotype surrounding alternative girls and knowing what to do in bed. Sitting down on the couch, I casually glanced at an open book. All I managed to read was "The night before the full moon..." before the blonde girl closed it over. She still hadn't told me her name yet. But considering Megan hadn't told me hers until after I had ejaculated on her chest, I decided to let her tell me in her own time. "You like the occult?" I asked, intrigued. "Only some of it." She replied. "We only follow a... very specific strain of magic." "Oh, cool." I replied, not quite sure what to ask. "It's a lot more... female friendly than a lot of the black magic you may have encountered." I stayed silent for a few seconds. I hadn't encountered black magic at all really. "Does it work?" I asked, curiously and sceptically. "Of course it works." She snapped. "We knew you would be here tonight. It said so in the book." I laughed. "Well, that had a lot more to do with Megan letting me touch her tits." The blonde girl looked quite annoyed. "It also said you would bring gifts of food." She said, pointing to the pizzas I had carried in. I nodded, not saying anything. Though I thought this was completely ridiculous, I didn't want to hurt my chances of getting laid. "So, you said there were other girls..." I inquired. "Ones I could have sex with..." I added, trying to steer the subject away from weird rituals and back towards me getting lucky. "Yes, there are. You may meet them now if you wish, but once you enter their chamber, you may not return until sunrise." She said, pointing at the book. "Oh, I can wait a little while if you want. Do I get to choose the one I have sex with, or is one of them just dying for it?" I ask. "The book has already chosen for you." The blonde girl answered. I nod, again frustrated by the stupidity of the whole thing. But remembering that losing my virginity was on the line, I opted to avoid openly bashing their beliefs. Having had enough of talking about magic with the blonde girl, I got up and went to sit beside Megan. I rested a hand on her breast. "Thanks for earlier, by the way. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it." Quickly she interrupted, thrusting what looked like a joint in my face. "Smoke it." She said. I took it and placed it to my lips as she lit it up. Luckily I'd done this a few times before, and had an idea of what to expect now. It was the strongest stuff I'd ever had though. Very quickly I learned that. After only a couple of hits, I became very lightheaded and struggled to focus on anything. "Do either of you want any of this?" I managed to mumble out. Though it was normally customary to pass a joint around, it seemed like this one was intended for me and me alone. One of them spoke next, but it was hard to tell who. "Come on. Let's take you to meet the others." I was then ushered upstairs. I started to come back round again, my ability to focus returning to normal. Perhaps it was adrenaline from the imminent intercourse, but I perked right up. This room was a lot more normal looking. It had 4, blue metal bunk beds. Each one had a different girl sitting on it. I surveyed the group, wondering which one I'd had the privilege of sharing a bed with. There was a very pretty, latin-looking girl with dark brown hair, brown eyes and a body that would have got the best out of any man. On the bed below was a cute looking blonde girl, slimmer and less intimidating than the one I'd met earlier. On the other side of the room was a cute, pale girl with chestnut-brown hair and above her was a big redheaded girl who was noticeably less attractive than the others. Megan and her blonde friend promptly left me alone with the four girls to get settled in. I didn't know quite what to say. Maybe I wanted to sound confident or maybe it was the joint still hitting me, but I opened with "I'm here for the sex." There was giggling and whispering around the room. The redheaded girl reached a hand out from her bed, offering me a place beside her. If it had been my choice, she would have been the last girl I'd have slept with from the options available. But I was in the mood now, and if that's what was on offer then that's what I'd be doing. She pulled me into her bed and began taking down my shorts. The cute blonde girl leaned in, trying to get a good look. I was already fully erect. The blonde girl took my penis in her hand. I wasn't complaining, as she was the better looking girl. Leaning in as far as she could without getting into the bed, she licked the shaft. "Get your own." The redheaded girl said, pushing her hand away. "Can't we share?" She asked. They were then interrupted by the sound of Megan clearing her throat to alert the others to her presence. "Kelly, Rebecca, let him go. This is the night before the full moon, if you haven't forgotten. He needs to take a virgin. Sarah is the only virgin here." She said, pointing the bed below the redhead's. I climbed down the metal ladder and hopped into bed beside the girl with chestnut brown hair. I was more than happy with this. After the latin girl, Sarah was the best looking. Not wasting a second, I pulled her pyjama bottoms down and opened her legs. "Shall we get to it?" I asked. She nodded. "Be careful though." She said, softly. I eased my way in, pushing against her hymen. It stretched as I pushed in. She gasped a little, in evident discomfort. I stopped but she nodded for me to continue. I kept pushing, her hymen having a remarkable amount of give and stretching to accommodate me pretty well. But as I kept going, I felt it reach its limit. I began to push through. Sarah moaned in pain slightly, but was clearly doing her best to suppress it. I kept going until I was the whole way through. "That's probably the worst part over now." I said, reassuringly. I began to slowly thrust forward and back. Her moaning was now moaning of pleasure rather than main. The sound was quite arousing and I found myself on something of a new level. It was strange primal sensation that only seemed to happen from this traditional type of sex. That's when it occurred to me. "Are you on birth control?" I asked. She shook her head. "You can stop it you want to, but I'd prefer if you keep going." The dilemma was real. The last thing I needed was to get a girl I didn't know pregnant. But this was sex, actual sex, I would be turning down, mid-way through. I simply couldn't refuse. So I kept going, her moist vagina fiercely tight around my penis. Much like with the titwank, I felt myself approaching my end all too quickly. It was a bit shameful that I would be done this quickly. But I was a 19-year-old virgin. What else could you expect? I slowed right down, hoping I might be able to force a little while longer out of myself. But it wasn't working. The sensation of being in an actual pussy was too much. "If you're going to do something wrong do it right." I told myself, returning to full speed thrusting, moments before ejaculating. It was a healthy amount, considering Megan had depleted my supply earlier on the beach. "That was amazing." I said. "Sorry I didn't last longer." "Not at all." Sarah replied. "Don't worry about it. Tonight was about you. Wait until you see the ritual we have for the full moon its self." She said. The Buzz Where 'the buzz' was at its strongest, though, surprisingly, was when they had sex in one of their cars in a secluded car park or field in the countryside. Being as good as naked in a place where they could conceivably be caught was such a turn on to Kate that she hardly needed his cock or fingers in her to start cumming. In between her 'sexual wanderings' Kate's life was just as normal and seemingly respectable as it had been for all of her married life. She was an attentive, caring and supportive, but not cloying mother, a good wife, a great homemaker and a sound worker in her job. She became a stalwart at the tennis club and got more into golf. So apart from when she 'went off the rails' and started fucking some bloke, things appeared to Paul, the kids, her friends and co-workers to be normal. But she still had the need for that buzz. During the next couple of years, there was James, Kate's personal trainer at the gym and her first 'young man,' Allen a guy she had met at golf, no not the one who had almost shagged her in the car, Carl, a rather amazing one-night stand and the book store owner Gordon. None of them was serious, none were heavy on either side, none really went beyond occasional, no strings attached sex, although she and Gordon did become like fuckbuddies. Manfully, Kate thought, she resisted the numerous suggestions made by messenger friends to meet, 'Just for a coffee or a drink'. Friends with whom she had discussed the most intimate topics, friends with whom the topic of most conversations was the traditional theme of chat rooms and messenger, friends with whom she had discussed sex and even some who she had watched masturbate on cam. And they just wanted a 'coffee or drink?' Yeah right! Then she met James and he was a revelation to Kate. She had joined a gym, ostensibly to lose weight, and she had found the whole thing fascinating. The machines, the blaring music and the plasmas created such an amazing atmosphere. The number of people, their, usually scanty, clothing, their bodies and the bare flesh excited her. The straining biceps, the pumping calf muscles, the chests, the buttocks and, with the girls, their bouncing boobs, started to give her the buzz. Being with strangers in the pool, the steam rooms and jacuzzis in her swim-suit, men staring at her breasts, all added to the that. So, when James came onto her, as he did to numerous attractive 'older' women, she was well primed for it. When he suggested a drink after work, she was ok with that. When she gave him a lift home, he didn't have a car, and he kissed her, she was prepared for it and when, several evenings later, after another lift home he caressed her breasts, she pretty much welcomed that. So, when several days later he invited her to his small flat, clearly for sex, she was up for it. 'The bike is about to be ridden again' she thought, hating herself at, but being thrilled by, the prospect of, being fucked by him This was not an unusual thing to happen for James or, indeed, for several of the PTs. They had come to see shagging birds of all ages as almost their right and 'servicing' nearing middle-aged women as their duty. From the very first time he worked with Kate on her initial assessment he knew he would have her. He knew equally well that once he had fucked her, he would dump her. He always did, that's just how it was, part of the game. If you didn't, then they became too clingy and too demanding. If you let it run on then, sooner or later, you would hear those dreaded words that without any doubt whatsoever signalled the end, "You do love me don't you?" Real death-knell of the affair that was. The fact that he wanted to have sex with her was not the revelation, she had by now got used to the fact that men were attracted to her. It was a little scary, however, for he was a young, well-tuned, fitness instructor who, presumably, Kate assumed, had sex with some of the female instructors. They had equally well-tuned bodies with figures like stick insects and no excess flesh at all. Not a bit, she worried, like my sagging boobs, the slightly podgy tum, the excess on her hips and bum and the worryingly, chunkiness of her thighs. No, that was not the revelation. Nor was her agreeing to go to his flat, him quickly undressing her, them both doing oral or him fucking her on the floor of his flat within moments of her arrival, a revelation. The revelation soon dawned on her though. And it didn't dawn the next day, week or month, it dawned that afternoon. It started to dawn when less than half an hour of being shagged on the floor of his flat, she was bent forward over the back of a chair being shagged again. It dawned even more when, just another hour later, they were in his bed and they were having sex again. She had, of course, forgotten, if she had ever really known about, the amazing stamina and incredible recovery powers of young men. Kate was sure it hadn't been there with Paul and her when they were young, and she didn't recall it in any of the other, few, lovers she'd had in her teens. But it was certainly there in the six week or so affair they had that autumn. Their 'arrangement' took on a pattern. James worked until ten four days a week and most weekends. Their opportunities to meet, therefore, were rather limited. Kate could not easily get away at weekends and late night meetings were impossible. They had two windows. Mornings before James start time of eleven and his day off. They used both to the full. Kate changed her days of work so she could see James on the afternoon of his day off. Then, she would go to his flat around mid-day. They didn't do anything but fuck. No meals, no going out, no drinks and no contact with anyone else, just sex. About twice a week she would go to his flat for 'breakfast' as they called it, but again they ate little other than themselves. Two quick shags and a cup of coffee set them both up for the day. She knew it was totally demeaning. She knew that her behaviour with James was really quite disgraceful. Kate was completely aware that she was in danger of making a fool of herself, but she had never experienced such sexual frequency and intensity that she did with him. It was, of course, his amazing stamina and recovery powers. Well to her they were, but when she did some research, four times in an evening for a twenty three year old was pretty much par for the course, she learned. 'God what a lot I missed out on,' she thought one afternoon as he fucked her for the fourth time in six hours. Kate had experienced that wonderful roller coaster ride of being taken near to an orgasm, then held there for some time, without fully climaxing. What she had never experienced was having that done to her four or five times in such a short time. Visiting James, she often thought, must be a little like visiting an opium den, a constant high. But it didn't last, it couldn't and neither really wanted it to. It was like a firework, a sudden explosion as it burst into life, a cacophony of amazing action for a brief time then a fizzling out as the power and intrigue were satisfied. He didn't give her up as he had most other 'oldies' and she didn't walk out on him. It simply had its time then finished, something James was very used to and something that Kate was becoming familiar with. It had had its day. Chapter 6 It was inevitable really that, as time went on and as Kate's 'flings' became both more frequent and daring, she would take more risks. Well not take risks as such, but be more open, be more receptive to advances from men 'closer to home' as it were or, as some termed it, start to 'pee on her own doorstep.' She found herself responding easier to men at parties and other events, even when Paul was there. She started to flirt and wear more revealing and, as the work at the gym with James, the exercising not necessarily the shagging, reduced her weight, tighter clothes. She went out with the girls from work or the tennis club more often, sometimes even ending up in clubs, dancing and drinking quite late. She enjoyed the banter, the double entendres and the suggestive remarks at work, the golf club and at tennis. Chapter 7 With James becoming a pleasant, but rather disturbing due to the manner in which she demeaned herself, memory, Kate got on with her life. The really odd thing, she began to find, was that the more 'naughty' she was, the more flings she had and the more sex she had on the side, the better she and Paul seemed to get on, even in bed. This also transmitted itself to her relationship with the kids and her role running the house. It was almost as if she had to try harder and create a better environment as atonement for what she was doing behind their backs: a little like the husband starting to bring flowers and other gifts, although Kate was not as obvious as that, but then she was female wasn't she? Allen was a 'self made man.' A wheeler dealer, an entrepreneur a businessman; some said he was a crook, others a tax fiddler and most that he dabbled a lot, having 'fingers in many pies.' He had several shops, a number of market stalls, a property development company, a storage business, plant hire, skips, a few pubs and clubs and, so it was rumoured, a number of massage parlours, brothels really. Whatever he did, he made a stack of money and he was tremendously charismatic. He was flash, but in an innocent and almost naïve way. He had a Bentley and a Porsche and Mrs Allen a top level Rangerover sport; personalised number plate of course. They had a huge house near the golf club, a flat in town and holiday homes in Marbella, Florida and South Africa. He kept boats at Port Solent near Portsmouth and Chelsea harbour in the UK and one tied up outside his house on the Intra Coastal waterway just outside Miami and he flew his own helicopter. Kate didn't know him well. She saw him at the golf club occasionally, more at functions with his child-like looking, false boobed, collagen and botox injected and surgically enhanced faced wife Ellie, than actually playing. Paul knew him for he had once placed some ads for one of Allen's companies and they had played together several times. Was it flattery? Was she impressed by him? Was it his money, his power or simply his immense charm and he really did have that? Or maybe it was the mystery, the danger, the 'flirting with the devil.' She didn't know just what it was or why she was sitting in his helicopter that morning. It was probably his charismatic personality more than anything else. She and Paul and Allen and Ellie had been seated on the same table at a golf club do. Allen had been fairly, but not overly attentive to her during the meal. She had noticed, though, that his gaze held hers just that tad longer than was necessary as he asked questions, and he asked a lot. It was part of his charm, part of his charisma that he seemed so interested in everything about her and that is hugely flattering from a multi millionaire. After the dinner, they had danced. He had held her tightly, possibly slightly tighter than he should have done. Like many men, his hand had ran up and down her back, rubbing, not overtly, but clearly suggestively on her bra strap and just touching the flair of her bum and the elastic of her thong.. "Thanks Kate, that was lovely," he had said, giving her a quick peck on the cheek as he led her back to the table. There was no one else left at the table, they were all dancing or had gone to the bar, so Allen sat down next to her, very close. They chatted, easily and relaxed. His knee had touched hers, he didn't move it away, so she did. It came back and pressed. She did the same thing, but not the third for then she left it there, it felt nice. But what felt even nicer was the buzz; it was happening, it was ringing in her ears and roaring through her brain. His hand had dropped beneath the table, Kate had watched it go. It landed softly on her leg, above her knee, just on the hem of her 'little black, off the shoulder, low cut, short and tight number.' He looked at her. With her new-found confidence in such 'being pulled' situations, she had held his gaze, something a while ago she would never have done. "Let's dance again," he had said, running his hand suggestively a few inches up her black, stockinged leg. That time, without any doubt whatsoever, he did hold her too tightly. Her breasts were squashed arousingly against his chest, his bulge was pushed excitingly against her mound and stomach and his hand ran unashamedly over her bum telling him clearly that she was wearing a thong. That time, he slightly pinged her bra strap and the waist band of her panties clearly enquiringly. The evening had progressed to the stage where at just before one he had asked for her mobile number. That was after he had assured himself of her interest, by squeezing her bum as they danced, by holding her so his hand pressed against the side of her boob and by brushing his lips across hers as they kissed after a dance. She gave him the number. The next day he had phoned and two days later she was sitting in his helicopter as he flew them to Brighton for lunch. "Oh God yes." "That's amazing." "You are fucking incredible," were just a few of the compliments Allen showered on her in the suite at the Metropole Hotel on Brighton seafront. A Mercedes had met them at the airport just in the South Downs round the back of Hove. It had whisked them to the hotel. He walked straight to the elevator and up to the suite, clearly having some pre-arrangement for he didn't check in. 'Maybe he owns the place,' Kate had smiled as she looked impressively around the huge suite. A whole, cold poached salmon and bowls of oysters and huge prawns sat on a serving table together with loads of different salads and bottles of water, but no wine. The meal was delightful. Allen was incredibly attentive and enormously charismatic sitting across from Kate eating the prawns and oysters with his fingers. She did the same. They each had a small piece of salmon. "Would you like desert?" He asked, "We can ring the kitchen for anything." She said she didn't. "I have my figure to look after." That brought a broad smile to Allen's face. "I was going to ask you about that." Kate momentarily panicked. 'What's he mean?' She wondered, but said. "What were you going to ask?" Without missing a beat, without the slightest embarrassment and without even sounding pervy or cheesy, he replied. "To see it of course Kate." 'Wow' she thought, "What a line, what an opening, what a come on?" She was lost, she knew that. She was out of her depth, in too deep, over her head. He was simply just too sophisticated, too experienced, too sexually proficient and yes, she kept coming back to it, too charismatic; she had no way of resisting him. From there on the afternoon became pure sex. He was, without a shadow of a doubt, the most confident lover she had ever been with. And that confidence spilled over to her as his charisma captured her. As it moulded her into his arms, as it undressed her, as it undressed him and as they lay on the bed naked. And it was his charisma, she felt afterwards, that had caused her to be kneeling between his legs, his cock in her mouth, her throat full of his cum with little dribbles of it running over her lips and down her chin, no more than thirty minutes later. Chapter 8. Kate and Gordon went back some time. Not sexually, but with their common interest in old books. They had got on well for some years as she visited his shop in the village next to where they lived, just outside London to the North. How or why they started having sex after all the years they had known each, neither really knew, but they did and they became regular lovers. She would pop into the shop ostensibly to look for a rare book, but in reality to get laid. Gordon would play the game, suggesting she look at first this book then another all the while knowing full well that he wanted to get laid as much as she did. After a respectable time of verbal jousting or, flirting as most called it, one of them would make and advance and Gordon would put the 'closed' sign on the shop doorway and they would go upstairs and fuck. It was nice sex; easy stuff, nothing demanding and low risk. They simply went upstairs and fucked for a couple of hours, got dressed, had a cup of tea and he went home to Belinda and she to Paul. Nice, simple arrangement and very enjoyable, even afterwards. But it did concern her in some ways, for she knew Belinda and they bumped into each other at functions and other places. That said, realising that Gordon fancied her at least as much as his wife, who most people she knew said was beautiful, although ten years older than Kate, was a turn on in an odd and rather unsavoury way, Kate thought. Nevertheless, her only real affair went on pleasantly, satisfyingly and without any real remorse. That was not the case, though with Carl, far from it. He was her only ever one-night-stand and incidentally, when Kate was being totally honest with herself, something that became more difficult the more she strayed, the only lover she regretted having. Well that wasn't totally true, it was more the circumstances and the fact that she was so obviously simply a one-night stand to him, that was the regret for, really, he was a superb fuck. She hadn't long broken up with James and hadn't really quite got going with Gordon. She was on a hen do for a younger girl from her work. She had tried to get out of going, being one of the older women there, but couldn't, so there she was on a warm summers night in a nightclub somewhere in, of all places, Blackpool, which Kate had felt was well past its sell be date; no one explained why that rather tacky town had been selected. Throughout the previous night's, raucous dinner in a cheap and rather nasty Greek restaurant complete with dancing on the table, plate breaking and Karaoki, Kate had come to the conclusion, the do wasn't really her cup of tea. That conclusion was hardened back at the hotel where the fourteen girls stayed up drinking, singing and dancing together until four in the morning. Things had improved a little the next day, most of which was spent at a rather nice spa, but again deteriorated in the evening. They had been instructed by the head bridesmaid to 'be as glam and skimpy as you can.' When they met in the bar of the hotel, which thankfully specialised in hen and stag dos, Kate was, as the modern awful expression goes, gobsmacked. She had never seen so much flesh, leg and chest on show, so many low tops and short skirts, stocking tops and bras. She was wearing a red sequin, covered, boob tube with tight, black cropped trousers and high heels, which was quite risqué for her, but appropriate, she thought, for both the instruction and going clubbing, something she hadn't done for years. There was yet another noisy and very mediocre dinner, which they ate from 9.30 to after 12 when they went to the club. Unbeknown to most of the girls, the matron of honour had arranged with another hen do and a large stag do to meet up in a bar next to the club, which, amazingly, went on to until six in the morning. So there was this bizarre situation where around thirty women and about the same number of men met in a bar to get to know each other. It was manic and crazy as everyone, well most everyone, started on shots or vodkas with a clear intent of getting out of their brains as quickly as they could. From Kate's point of view the only good thing about it was that she could fade into the background and not be missed. She was tempted to slope off and go back to the hotel and go to bed, but as she was sharing she thought that was not such a good idea. So instead, she got pulled. Not just pulled, but comprehensively picked up. The Buzz The guys on the stag do were generally older than the girls on both hen dos, so Kate was slightly relieved to find herself being chatted up by a guy who she put in his late thirties, she knew she could pass for that. Carl was tasty. There was no doubt about that. He was tall, lean, well built, and dark skinned. Not black or obviously sub-continent, but probably mixed race. He has an easy way about him, a nice smile and a quick wit. They both quickly agreed that this sort of thing was not for them. They discussed the ridiculousness of their respective stag and hen dos and agreed that they were both a huge waste of money and basically a waste of time. "That is, of course Kate," Carl said, putting his hand on top of her's, staring at her well developed in the boob tube cleavage, looking up, catching her gaze and adding "Unless you meet someone for the night." "Yes that's true," Kate replied. They chatted for a while, had a few drinks and danced a couple of times. As usual, it was difficult chatting in the club and Carl had suggested they go outside for a chat a couple of times, but Kate had not taken up the invitations. After Josie, the Matron of Honour to the bride, had shouted what sounded like a whisper into her ear, Kate changed my mind. "Ok then," she shouted to Carl, unthinkingly placing her fingers on his wrist, which she noted was sporting a Rolex watch. "Let's go." Outside Kate explained what Josie had said. "You might have preferred to stay," she said as they walked along the sea front. "I doubt it, why would I?" He said as they walked down some steps to a narrow walkway alongside the beach. It was still very warm and the full moon together with the lights from the promenade above them meant they could easily see their way. "Well Josie was organizing a mooning contest between the two hen dos with the guys on the stag do being the judges." Carl laughed and very pointedly looking back over Kate's shoulder and down to her bum said. "Well I have my own one here, don't I?" Kate felt a little embarrassed, but also quite enjoyed it when Carl fell a pace or two behind her and went on. "On behalf of the stag do I declare er, um............." He paused. Kate got his drift. "Er Kate," she smiled. "The delectable Kate with the curvy derriere the outright winner." "Why thank you, kind sir," she said leaning unconsciously against him as laughing, for they were both tipsy, he put his arm round her shoulders. "You are most welcome and from what I could see most worthy too," he said running his hand down from Kate's bare shoulders, across her equally bare back, over the sequined top, across her waist and almost to her bum, before she wiggled away. "Now now," Kate laughed, "that wasn't one of the prizes" she giggled, as he pulled her round to face him. "Pity," Carl said, his hand on each of her hips. The laughing stopped, they were both serious as they stared at each other for a moment or two. "So was this one of the prizes?" he said softly, his arms running up Kate's back and pulling her to him. She was surprised, Surprised at both his confidence, but more so at her lack of resistance. She did though keep her face down so that her chin was against his chest. He went on. "This must be third prize and" as he took her chin his hands and lifted it upwards added just before he kissed her, "this must be second." It wasn't a long kiss, it didn't need to be for the significance of it to reach both of them. He held her in his arms as they broke the kiss and he said quietly. "You can guess the first prize, can't you?" She didn't say anything quite enjoying being held by this tall strong man. She felt his hands sliding down her back and this time they didn't stop at her waist. They went past that, onto the back of her hips, up the flare of her bum and then onto each cheek. He rested them there sort of enquiringly. It felt nice, just right for the moment, so she didn't move or push them off. "Yes Kate," he mumbled before again kissing her. This time, as their mouths ground together so his hands fondled the cheeks of her ample bum inside the tight, black cropped trouser. Kate couldn't have stopped him, even if she had wanted to, so aroused had Carl made her. His hands on her bum and running up her back onto her bare skin above the boob tube then down again, his lips on hers, his tongue in her mouth, hers in his and the firm, long bulge rearing up her tummy ensured that. He pushed her back, deeper into the shadow of the overhang from the promenade above. It was very quiet and deserted. Sure, there was sounds of laughter and talking as people walked along the promenade, after all it was only one or so, but on the lower path alongside the stony beach there was no one. They continued kissing as slowly they moved further and further under the promenade, his hands still fondling her squelchily, delicious bum. Carl finished the sentence he had left hanging. "The first prize is Kate's bum." Kate felt something against the back of her knees. She broke the kiss and looked over her shoulder and saw it was a bench that ran the length of, what she now realised was, a shelter. "Wow, what a prize," she laughed adding "At least there's enough of it to make a big prize." They down on it, still kissing. A part of her knew this was crazy, she was aware that she was going where she had never been before. She was finding a new low. She knew nothing about him, had met him less than two hours ago yet was now in a deep clinch with him. The buzz was there and it was starting to control her. His mouth clamped firmly to her and his arms round her, Carl leaned sideways so that his left side pressed against the back of the bench and Kate's right shoulder snuggled against his chest and arm. Their knees were pressing together, which stopped the lower parts of their bodies getting close. She felt his leg moving against hers, his knee pressing against both of hers, enquiringly, excitingly and as if waiting for an invitation. That was exactly what it was doing. They probably both knew this was a seminal moment. One of those times between potential new lovers when something happens that defines the future of their relationship, fling, affair, lovemaking, one-night-stand or whatever. But of course in their highly aroused and slightly drunk states they didn't think of it in those terms. Carl was thinking 'If I can get my leg between hers I can get on top of her and maybe fuck her here and now.' Kate was thinking 'If I open my legs I am opening myself to him;' it hadn't even entered her head that they might have sex here. Carl pushed his tongue deeper into Kate's mouth. She met it with her tongue and they fought a little duel. She loved kissing and she was good at it. They squirmed their widely parted lips together, they sucked each other's top and bottom lips in turn and licked all round each other's mouth. They were, though, still sitting upright and he badly wanted to get her lying slightly backwards. Although Kate was quite shocked at herself by going this far this soon, the buzz was more and more taking her over. Her body wanted more, her entire being needed more, she wanted more from this appealing man. Her breasts were aching and her blood-engorged nipples were pounding with sensation. And that is the more she needed. That is where she needed his attention, yes Kate realised she wanted Carl to play with her tits. Her legs slowly parted. Carl's right leg slid between them and he eased her backwards until her body was stretched out. He rolled as alongside Kate as much as the restrictions of the bench allowed. He was almost on his side, she on her back, his chest was against hers squashing her right breast. "Ok?" he whispered. "Yes," she grunted, half of her wishing she had the strength to say 'no' and get up and leave. Carl was a real player. Married with three kids, he'd had endless affairs and flings, but always went home to his wife. He was a bit of a bastard really fully embracing the 'fuck 'em and leave 'em' philosophy. But whilst he was 'fucking 'em' he gave them his all and usually they had a great time, even though it frequently ended in tears, mainly because his 'conquests' wanted more than the one or, occasionally two, night stand he allowed. In his tortured logic a one or two quick fucks with strangers was hardly being unfaithful, but seeing a woman several times meant there was more than sex and that was unfair on the wife. He was also a good lover, but had an unorthodox approach. Not for him the traditional 'tits first' process whereby the man enquired by caressing them outside her top, then inside, then maybe getting them out and providing them with enormous attention before 'going down below.' No, he went for broke as soon as he could. Lying almost supine on the bench in the dark shadows at the back of the shelter they would not be visible to anyone that passed by and, in any case they would almost certainly hear anyone approaching. Kate was surprisingly relaxed and had wrapped her arms round his neck, leaving the length of her body open and exposed to his advances; she was a little like a puppy lying on its back, leaving its throat exposed to another dog. She expected to feel his hand on her breasts, actually more than expected, for she hoped and wanted it there really. It was a surprise then, when she felt it on her chest between the bottom of her boobs and her waist. It was a bigger surprise, somewhat of a shock really, when she felt it start to move. It went downwards instead of up. It was on her waist as he kissed her harder. It slid onto the softness of her tummy. 'God no,' she thought as he pressed and softly rubbed right on the apex of her slight bulge. 'I must stop him,' she thought as slowly it slid down the incline. 'This can't be happening' she pondered as the edge of his hand pressed right against the top of her pubic line. Carl knew that he had her. It was his business to know that sort of thing. It was how real players worked and he was one of those right at the top of his game, Kate was a helpless pawn against such opposition. He knew he had her from the kiss, from the tension in her body through his hands and in the way she reacted in his arms. In his terms he had made the break through, now for victory. He knew that the combination of touch and words had more than twice the power of either alone. The two together created synergy, he had learned years ago. Parting her blonde hair, which Carl thought she wore a little long for her age, he pressed the tip of his tongue against Kate's ear. Leaving it there for a moment or two as he softly licked just inside her ear, he whispered. "You are amazing Kate, you have the most gloriously desirable body.' He was absolutely correct for, as he whispered those words and slid his hand down further, Kate realised that right at that moment, there was nothing in the world she wanted more than to have his hand there. Involuntarily, on purpose, invitingly, sordidly or however either party looked at it, she opened her legs. "Oh God," she grunted as his hand found its goal. Her body jerked as it finished this stage of its journey. Her head went back as she clung onto him round his neck as he pressed her there. She felt herself starting to cum as Carl pressed right against her cunt inside the thin trousers. He knew then that it was game set and match. Chapter 9 Kate had started bringing a shorty, red silk dressing gown with her to David's house for their sessions tended to go on some time, often starting with lunch and ending mid-evening. That wasn't because Ken had the greatest stamina or recovery powers, and they would sometimes only have full sex once during that time, but then men in their mid forties are often like that. It was just nice to pop something on between her orgasms, for whilst he didn't' actually penetrate her that often, their foreplay was lengthy and extensive, and she did cum often. On top of that, his old Georgian house had insufficient heating and no double glazing and it was bloody drafty. It was more than six months after that time in Blackpool with Carl. That had shocked Kate. Alright she was a little drunk, but to do what she had, took more than the effects of alcohol, it was something coming from within her as well as outside influences that made her so lacking in self-control. She made a vow to turn over a new leaf, to resist the buzz, to be better behaved, to stop becoming more and more an easy lay. That had lasted six months, but then she broke it with a lecturer at the 'mature students' course in psychology and philosophy on which she had enrolled. She wasn't trying for a qualification; it was purely for an interest and as an effort to understand herself and change her behavior patterns. The incongruity, she thought as she lay naked under the thick duvet in his freezing cold house, was that she was attending his lectures in an effort to resist men's advances and here she was being fucked by him. After Carl, Kate left that job and did voluntary work for a local charity. She spent more time at home by cutting down on the gym, where she still occasionally saw James, which was a constant temptation for he often 'offered his services' to her. She stopped going to tennis as much for again, there she was surrounded by temptation. Being winter she almost stopped playing golf so slowly she closed down the channels of how she met men. She knew she had to do that. She recognised that she was on a downward spiral and she could see that sooner or later Paul would find out. How? She didn't know. Maybe someone would see her, could be a friend of a friend, possibly one of the myriad of excuses she had to provide wouldn't work or simply he might smell another man's aftershave on her? That was one way of looking at it, the fear of getting caught. The other, was behaving in the way that a verging on middle-aged wife and mother should. And that didn't include shagging young tennis coaches, having affairs with work colleagues, indulging herself with a fuckbuddy and particularly doing one-night-stands. That really was the lowest of the low. Although Carl may well have been the best and most exciting fuck Kate had ever had, it was, by far, the riskiest, most dangerous and crazy thing she had done since 'putting herself in play.' His unusual approach totally defeated her. It ruined any resistance she may have had and made her putty in his hands. She had never been quite so comprehensively seduced, but then she hadn't been seduced that many times really, for usually she was a completely willing partner. By starting in such a different way to most men she had experienced and by finding her clit so quickly and adeptly, he had sent such rushes of excitement through her that, inevitably, she wanted, and badly needed more. So, when he took his hand away from between her legs and stroked her hair with it, she wanted it back down there. She almost asked him to replace it, but managed to resist that indignity. They kissed more and, as he repositioned himself, she became increasingly aware of his erection pressing against the outside of her leg. He wiggled his body so that now, it pressed more against the top of her leg, right up by her groin. Then came the next part of his unorthodox approach. She felt him take hold of her hand, pull it downwards, maneuver it a little and then press it against him. She jumped with the realisation that her hand was pressed against his bare cock. 'he's got it out,' hit her so hard, for that had never happened to her before. As he whispered, "Ok Kate?" She felt her fingers wrapping round it's impressive thickness. It felt amazing. It was then and only then, then when he had made her cum a little, then when he had rubbed her pussy and clit through her trousers and then when she was holding his cock, did he touch her tits. 'Incredible' she had thought as his hand closed round her right breast and squeezed it with just the right amount of pressure, 'He really does know his stuff,' she giggled to herself. Having already gone so far with him, feeling her boob tube being pulled down didn't seem that significant. His hands all over her breasts, squeezing and rubbing, his fingers pinching and pulling her nipples and his mouth on the bare flesh seemed normal. The fact that she had so recently met him and that they were outside didn't' seem to register. Carl was now in a quandary. 'Just how far would this 'respectable' married mother of two go' he wondered, licking, sucking, kissing and chewing her full, nicely rounded breasts, which actually were a little on the large side for his taste. It still hadn't occurred to Kate that he would actually try to have full sex in that shelter; there was still a touch of sexual naivety left in her. Having left pulling the top of the boob tube down for such a time, Carl quickly made up for it. His hands, fingers, mouth, lips, teeth and tongue covered every inch of each orb and both heavily swollen nipples. Kate found herself writhing against his hands and mouth. She was clearly, eagerly even, reveling in all the pleasures he had withheld from her by his untypical seduction approach of 'attacking' her pussy before her breasts. Now, though, avidly 'attacking' her two full boobs and sending such wonderful sensations through her writhing, shaking body, he didn't ignore her lower parts. His mouth moving all over her breasts, Carl slid his hand back between her slightly parted and, obviously he thought, invitingly opened thighs. "Oh Christ, yes," Kate grunted as his fingertip found her sweetest of sweet spots whilst, at the same time, he gently bit her nipple. She felt almost delirious with pleasure and excitement. "Ok?" he whispered rubbing Kate's clit. "Oh yes," she moaned adding "Yes, yes, yes." Her eyes were closed, her mouth was wide open gasping for breath, her head was thrown back and her body was thrust forward towards his pleasure giving fingers and mouth. She really was in the position of a real slut. He caressed her more firmly as he slowly thrust his cock into the surrogate cunt Kate was forming with her hand. He moved his other hand and fumbled the thin belt round her waist undone and without waiting slid her zip down. Quickly, so she would have no chance to push him off he slid his hand inside her cropped trousers. Down her soft, slightly bulging stomach, into her thong, across her small thatch of neatly trimmed pubes and between her legs to find the gratifying wetness of her pussy. If the sensation had been strong when Carl had pressed her clit through her trousers and panties, when he pressed it 'au naturel', the feelings almost sent her through the roof; they certainly started to make her cum again. She hugged him round his neck even tighter loving and hating him at the same time. "Oh my God. Oh shit Carl, oh Jesus," she moaned as he rubbed right on her clit. "Good?" he gasped sucking her nipple, fairly hard and running his finger along her lips. "Yes. No, no. Yes, but stop, we can't," she stammered half-heartedly trying to wriggle away. Carl knew this was a big moment. A go for broke moment, a shit or bust moment. He slithered his fingers into her and pumped them just as he would if her were fucking her with his cock as opposed to his fingers. The significance of this was not lost on Kate. "No, stop, please stop," she whined. "No Kate, I can't stop, you don't want me to do you?" "Yes, yes I do," she replied her bodily actions belying her words. "You don't Kate, not really, you want exactly what I want don't you?" Carl went on thrusting his cock harder in her hand. "No Carl, no, we can't." "We can Kate and we are going to," he grunted getting three fingers a decent way up Kate's soaking pussy. The Buzz "Please Carl no," Kate pleaded knowing as well as he did she didn't really mean it. He was tugging at the waist band of her thin trousers as he whispered huskily into her ear. "I want you Kate, badly." She grabbed the waist band as well trying to hold her trousers in place. "We can't, no, stop," she groaned as his teeth bit into her nipples sending a shock of pain and even more intense sexual arousal through her. He stopped pulling on her trousers and tried another tack. He had no intention of raping Kate, but the use of a degree of force was fair game really, for that's what she was, he rationalised, fair game. Nothing but fair game would be in a shelter with him their top pulled down, their tits bare holding his cock as he finger fucked her. Yes real fair game and the sort that had been round a bit. He knew that she was as up for it as he was. He kissed her, squeezed her breasts, pinched her nipples and slid his two fingers effortlessly in and out of her soaking pussy. "I really do want you Kate, don't you want me?" "Yes, no. Oh Carl this is so unfair." "I know babe, but life is and so is sex, you have to take it when you can get it, you must know that being married." Her hips were reacting to his fingers and moving them in time to the slow surges in and out of her pussy and the thrusts in her hand. Carl turned on the pressure. "You want to be fucked don't you Kate?" "No, no not here, we can't" "But you do want to be fucked don't you." She whimpered, gritted her teeth and pushed herself against his hand, but didn't reply. "Don't you?" He grunted shoving his fingers hard and deep into her cunt. "Don't you Kate, you want to be fucked though, don't you?" The words came out of her mouth without her meaning to let them. "Yes she groaned." "Yes what?" Carl asked holding his fingers rigid deep inside her. "What do you want Kate?" She didn't reply. "Tell me Kate, tell me what you want?" Still no reply. He surged his cock hard in her hand and almost slid his fingers out. "Want me to stop?" He asked taking quite a risk. But Carl knew exactly what he was doing. "No, no," Kate whimpered. "What then, you don't want me to stop?" "No." "So you do want to be fucked?" "Yes." "You do want me to fuck you?" "Yes, yes Carl, I do." "You want my big cock up you don't you?" He said thrusting it at her. She held it tight, adoring the feeling and sobbed. "Yes Carl, yes I do." "Tell me." "What?" "Tell me what you want?" "How do you mean?" He surged it against her again. "Tell me what you want me to do with this?" She got the message. She was defeated, gone and now totally defenseless. The tears of part frustration, part guilt and part excitement were streaming down her face as she moaned. "I want you to fuck me with your big cock Carl." And that is precisely what he did. With Kate leaning against the wall her trousers round her knees, her boob tube round her waist, Carl fucked her hard, fast and very dirty. Chapter 10 "Welcome to your fantasy Kate," Ken said as, holding her hand, he led her down the stairs to the basement which was set up us a relaxation room and gym. She had only been there once when Ken had shown her round the house on her initial visit. They tended to have sex in one of the small bedrooms on the top floor of the four storey Georgian house. "Hot air rises," he explained. Occasionally, they would have it in the main bedroom, which Ken had shared with his wife before they parted, but that was only on warmer nights. The basement had a pool table, dart board, a fruit machine and juke box. There was a running machine, a few weights and other gym paraphernalia. In the middle of the room there was a training mat. That was about eight feet square and was raised off the floor by about eight inches forming a small stage sort of thing. The room was dimly lit, with two spots that, for some reason, were beamed onto 'the stage." Kate was wearing the shorty, dressing gown. It was red silk, with a tie round the waist, had no buttons and the hem was mid thigh. She was naked underneath it. She hadn't bothered being too careful about how it covered her as Ken, also in a dressing gown, led her down the stairs to the basement. Hence, as she walked the skirt part flapped open showing her inner thighs almost to her crotch and the lapels gaped showing much of both of her breasts. She had been a little surprised when, some time after they had had sex, Ken had said. "I have a little surprise for you, come with me." "What's this Ken?" Kate gasped when she entered the basement. Seeing the five men there, all naked apart from towels wrapped round their waists, she immediately knew what he meant by that phrase. "Welcome to your fantasy Kate." It had been the third or fourth time they had slept together when they discussed their fantasies. Feeling wonderfully mellow after her third orgasm and very close to Ken who had been marvelously attentive to her needs, Kate had opened up a little more than she usually did with her lovers. "Like lots of women I think," she'd said when he asked about her sexual aspirations, "I feel an odd attraction to forced sex." "What rape?" "Yes sort of, I suppose. But then that's not an aspiration, I'm not sure I really want to do it or be raped, it's more a mind or emotional thing than a physical desire, if you get what I mean," she explained. She had expanded on that by telling him of another fantasy "Which I never expect to fulfill, is a gang bang with five or six blokes and me." "Who are they? I can't," Kate said in a panicky voice as she grabbed Ken's arms. "Just some friends Kate, you'll never see them again. An advantage of amateur dramatics I guess," he said, turning and rather scarily, but highly significant locking the door. "Ken you can't." "Oh yes I can Kate and I am, aren't I?" He said finding the tie at her waist and pulling it undone. Kate grabbed the silk robe just about managing to stop it billowing open. She looked round at the other men. Their ages varied. One looked to be in his early twenties or late teens and one seemed to be in his late forties or fifties with the others all looking to be around forty. Three were white, one black and another looked to be from India or Pakistan. They all had reasonable physiques, she noted thankfully, as she realised she was starting to accept this amazing situation. "I didn't mean it Ken, I told you I never expected it to happen, I am not sure I want it to." "Oh Kate, I think you do," Ken said taking hold of the collar of the robe and pulling it along her shoulders and down her back a little way. "No stop." "Come on Kate show them that lovely body of yours," Ken went on tugging at the robe, which Kate refused to surrender. "No Ken, no I can't" she whined back, worried like hell at how fast her heart was beating. "You can Kate. Look how much they are all looking forward to it," Ken was saying as he pulled her round to look at the guys standing round three sides of the training mat. As she stared at them, they all undid their towels and let them fall to the floor. Even in her distressed and surprised state, Kate could not help gasping when she saw the five erect and semi-erect cocks. Most of the guys let their fingers stroke their erections. "Nice Kate?" "Ken, no." She moaned, beginning to realise that there was no way out of this. She turned back to face him. "Look Ken I can't, I really cannot do this." He smiled, leaned forward and kissed her. "I think you can, I think really you want to and, most importantly Kate, I think you will." She hadn't heard anything, but suddenly she was grabbed by the wrists and her arms were pulled behind her making her let go of the robe. It ballooned open showing everything, just as Ken turned her to face the others. "Oh yes." "Wow baby." "Way to go Kate." Were some of the comments that greeted her nudity. Ken and the black guy edged her towards the mat, she had stopped struggling, it was clearly pointless. The robe vanished and she stood naked for a moment or two confronting the five equally naked guys. As if on cue, they moved forward, they surrounded her in the middle of the mat. They all started touching her, stroking and caressing her; her back, her arms, her face, her hair and her legs. They pressed themselves against her, two, three four and five erections on her legs, her thighs her bottom and her stomach. Five cocks pressed against her and ten hands wandering over her body. Caresses were now everywhere; on her legs, her tummy, her chest, her bum, her breasts and her stomach. She had, obviously never experienced anything like this before, and, she had to admit, it was amazing. She was going dizzy with the sheer intensity of so much male sexuality. Her wrist was grabbed and her hand was pressed against a cock, as another slid between the cheeks of her bum and yet another pressed right against her pubic mound and up her tummy. She was now groaning and sighing as each new experience hit her and as each new set of sensations washed over her. She was turned round and pulled forward and backwards, all the time though feeling male flesh or hands and fingers on her. Three cocks pressed against her and one in each hand. Cocks against both cheeks of her bum and her pubes as two mouths licked and chewed her breasts. Hands rubbing, caressing and squeezing her buttocks, her thighs, her breasts and her nipples. Fingers pinching and stroking her nipples, her pussy lips and between the cheeks of her bum. It was happening. She didn't think it would. She had felt that this was just too outrageous and her major feeling would be fear, but it wasn't. Far from it. She was feeling other sensations, but mostly she was getting the buzz. Her resistance was waning. Her inhibitions were lessening and her worry and concern barriers were coming down. She opened her mouth and allowed a tongue past her lips. She felt herself stroking a cock and leaning back to make her tits more easily available to the Indian or Pakistani guy's mouth. Her legs opened and she grunted as one guy from behind and another from the front slid their fingers, three from both directions she guessed, right up her worryingly, wet cunt. She was gone now. Both she and Ken knew that and the others guessed it as Ken took his robe off and joined them on the mat. She and he kissed as she gratifyingly, but rather surprisingly, felt his full erection, that was so unlike him just an hour or so after sex. The guys were as aroused as Kate and were now itching to take this further. One of the older white guys had his arms around her, his hands holding her breasts as he wiggled his cock between her legs from behind. Falling back against him Kate's legs opened a little. The young guy moved in and, holding his cock and bending his knees he wiggled the tip of it right against her lips. Their eyes caught. "Ok?" He mouthed. Kate nodded and then had the glorious sensation of his young, hard, very sturdy cock surging up her pussy. At the same time the guy from behind was pushing his cock against the back end of her lips but was beaten to gaining entry by the young buck who had started to fuck Kate. As he did, the others were pawing and licking, feeling her tits and bum and giving her sensations everywhere. Kate felt almost as if she was floating. She didn't have to support herself, they did that, so she could just let her body go. Leaning back against one guy with the young one buried in her, Kate was holding cocks in both hands, it was incredible. Everywhere, every part of her and all her immediate surroundings were filled with sex. It was as though everything was sex, that there was nothing other than sex, that sex was all. Junior was quick, but then in such circumstances that wasn't surprising. He didn't actually make Kate cum, but then not one specific thing was likely to do that. It was the whole adventure which had taken her right up to that crest of orgasmic delight and had kept her there. She stayed there during that first fuck, as the young guy slid out and as the guy from behind immediately replaced him. She remained right up there as he shagged her from behind and as two guys, the black one and one of the white forty somethings licked, sucked and chewed her tits and the others ran their hands all over her as she held onto their cocks. Things were speeding up, becoming more complicate and hard to follow. Kate hardly knew where her body ended and the mens' began, she certainly, other than by skin colourings, had no idea who was doing what to her. The guy shagging her from behind finished and another took his place. He lay down on the mat, on his back pulling Kate with him. She was sitting on his cock facing away from him, her knees drawn up just like a jockey on a racehorse. The others, apart from the two who had just cum, crowded round. One pulled her face to one side and holding his cock almost horizontally offered it to her. Kate raised her eyes and met his, he nodded, smiled and raised an eyebrow enquiringly. She smiled back, licked her lips and, still holding his gaze slowly, opened her mouth. As his cock slid into Kate the black guy crouched in front of her, his feet either side of the guy whose cock was up from behind, knees. He slid his cock between her tits, but naked and unsupported as they were, her cleavage was far to wide to create any pressure. Ken solved that by leaning forward, kissing Kate on her cheek, his face brushing against the cock that was fucking her mouth and pushing her tits together round the sturdy black cock. It went on and on. Kate had no idea how many times she was fucked, how many times she was made to cum, how many cocks she held and how many she had in her mouth. Time lost as much meaning to her as any degree of restraint or inhibition did. Both simply ceased to exist as cock followed cock into her ever willing, or so it seemed, cunt. The 'party' ended with Kate on her back in the middle of the mat holding her tits and pinching her nipples as those who had anything left stood or knelt round her masturbating and shooting over her body. She walked from the basement to cheers, applause and load of shouted 'thanks Kate' with her tits, chest, stomach, thighs and face stained with the drying residue of the five actors cum. Ken told her after that she was in fact only fucked five times and that he had explained to the guys that her bum was 'off limits.' She had been half pleased, but very surprised during the orgy that none of the guys had tried for anal as most blokes nowadays seemed to want that, particularly in a gang bang like theirs. She was pretty sure that if one of them had tried she would have gone along with it, for the idea of being fucked there, in her pussy and mouth and between her tits as she wanked two other cocks all at the same time, was, really, the ultimate fulfillment of her gang bang fantasy. She was also slightly regretted not having had two cocks up her pussy at the same time, but then 'hey' she rationalised, 'a girl can't have everything in one go can she?' Lying beside Paul in bed that night, she found herself smiling and thinking as she listened to him snoring, 'There's always a next time isn't there?'