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The Nixon Girls Ch. 01

By: thelastenglishking



I would start with a warning: Never, Never, NEVER! Allow your partner to have a computer memory stick which is the same as your own, no matter how good that "two for the price of one" offer appears to be! The frustration that you feel when you're a thousand miles from home and realise that you've got your wife's; is as nothing compared to the feeling of horror which descends once you realise that she therefore has yours! This nightmare befell me one Tuesday last November. Half a lifetimes 'secret' diaries and journals were saved and scanned onto that little purple wand and the more I contemplated Jane viewing them, the deeper became my realisation that 'I WAS FUCKED!' 

When I returned home the following Friday evening, it was a relief to see Jane's car was there and the house-lights on; I'd seriously considered the possibility that she may have left-me: perhaps she'd never opened them? This optimism proved short-lived; I was greeted by Jane, her mother Moira and 'favourite aunt' Sarah; three of the four Nixon Girls being there could not be a coincidence. 

As I tentatively looked around for the fourth it was Jane who spoke "Don't panic Rob, Eve's not with them; I didn't want any blood on our new carpet" I was forced to smile, albeit a weak and uncertain effort; if Eve had been here, blood on the carpet would have been a probability rather than possibility.

I slumped into a chair whilst Moira proffered a large scotch and a reassuring grin; once I'd recovered some degree of composure, the girls updated me on what I'd missed: -

Jane had discovered the 'Robs Journals' folder on Wednesday evening and spent a sleepless night reviewing its content. By the time Jane called her mother, on the Thursday morning, she had got beyond the initial shock of her discovery and reached a stage of being 'fighting mad', though exactly as I'd predicted many years before, not with her mother. Moira then advised Aunt Sarah of the disaster and together they'd immediately driven over to sort things out. I gather that my having strayed had been 'no surprise', what had perhaps shocked and certainly angered Jane, were some of my chosen partners; the lion's share of this rage being directed at her 'Bitch of a Sister' and that 'Whore who calls herself my Aunt'

I gather that on arrival, Sarah had not been received very warmly; but as you will come to appreciate, she's not a lady whom you can stay angry at for long. The issue was apparently settled with Jane offering 'half-an-apology' in response to Sarah conceding that "I've never disputed that I'm a slut; but don't you dare call me cheap! On the few occasions that there's been some financial consideration, I was invariably very bloody expensive: though I still like to think that I provided good value for money." As I said, Sarah's irrepressible.

I'm told that this cessation of hostilities, prefaced 'the mother and father of all girlie sleep-over parties' During which they 'reviewed and dissected' every word in my journals; fuelled by chocolate, Pringles and takeaway pizzas, washed down with brandy and a whole case of very expensive Chablis. By Friday evening, even Eve had been forgiven, though there are obviously facts that the girls now all know and that I clearly don't? During their discussions, Sarah came up with 'this great idea' of publishing the stories and introduced the other two and later me, to the Literotica Site. Moira had pointed out that if Eve should ever read them, she'd probably recognise herself and be none too happy - Believe me, a disgruntled Eve is to be avoided at all costs! However the majority opinion prevailed: - "Eve would never visit a Site like Literotica and if she did, then good; as that would mean the frigid bitch has finally loosened up a bit" 

By the time I returned on that Friday, even Moira was in outrageously good humour and laughing about the whole affair. Moira and Sarah stayed over until the Sunday afternoon and despite my being the butt of a million jokes; it was an unbelievable weekend. One that's been added to my Journals already and might one day make it onto Literotica too?

Before commencing proper; the girls insist that I include a short introduction of myself, but as I 'can't be trusted' with this task they've drafted it for me and I shall as promised quote verbatim: - Almost everything about Rob is normal/average, the only exception being his 'Paul Newman Blue' eyes. Personality-wise, he's just lovely; Rob projects this hard, cynical, jack-the-lad image; which he's absolutely appalling at and what he still fails to appreciate, is that if he did actually carry it off; then we along with all the other girls who've fallen for him over the years wouldn't have gone near! The reality is that he's cute; an overgrown schoolboy and at heart; just an old fashioned romantic. Equally important though is the 'rogues smile' which he's had ever since he was a kid and whilst he knows that he's got it he still doesn't comprehend it's effect. We would defy any girl between the ages of nine and ninety not to give a little shiver when he hits you with it full beam. 

Sarah, March 1984.

I suppose I first met Sarah in 1978, when my family moved into the Wyre Valley. It was much later that she became Jane's Aunt and Moira's Sister. Back then she was just the mother of my best mate David Weir and his kid brother Alistair; though to be strictly accurate, Sarah's their step-mother; Dave and Al's natural mother having died when they were very young. Sarah had been employed by their father Campbell as a nanny/housekeeper and three years later, they were married.

On the subject of accuracy, Sarah Weir (nee Robinson) is not strictly a 'Nixon Girl' either; but being so heavily involved she can't be ignored! The lady herself is 'free, white and twenty-one' with 'film star' blonde hair which she claims is natural but which I'd note, has not varied by one iota in shade during the 25 years that I've known the lady. Sarah has the same Blue/Green eyes as my wife Jane, though if anything they're perhaps even more voracious; she's 5'5" tall and swears that 'in her prime' her body was 'even hotter than Eve's' it certainly impressed to this callow youth in the mid 1980's. Sarah's weight is 'not for public disclosure' and her breast size has 'never been complained about' I would guess at 34/36B and to be fair, they're still quite remarkably firm. Whilst no one else agrees; my chosen simile is and will always remain; the actress Angie Dickinson, in the "Policewoman" TV Series of the late 1970's. Whilst the girls, threw up innumerable discrepancies, I maintain my opinion; though this is perhaps tainted due to Sarah and Angie being the two foremost fantasy figures of my adolescence? Sarah's personality is manic, effervescent and at times just plain crazy! She's a perfect friend and lover, but I don't know where Campbell's found the energy or tolerance to manage to stay married to her for almost forty years! 

By March of 1984, I'd become semi-resident in the Weir household at the weekend, so it wasn't unusual for me to be staying over; what was different was that rather than sleeping off last nights excesses on the settee, I'd bagged David's bed for the night. I don't recall what the party had been for, but by the time we'd got home, David was wasted and fell sound asleep in the lounge; so rather than wake him, I threw a blanket across him and nabbed his bed instead. Hence when Sarah came looking for Dave early next morning, she was no doubt surprised to find me there instead.

Campbell Weir had a dairy farm, so their day started early and this morning was no exception. Once his alarm clock rang, he roused Dave and Al; made a quick coffee for all three whilst the lads surfaced, then together they headed out to face their herd of dairy cows. Whilst I too occasionally helped out; all three agreed that I was worse than useless so early in the morning. I've always maintained that a day only starts after the second coffee and third cigarette; so as usual, they left me undisturbed.

Sarah too was awake and had noticed that David's footsteps hadn't followed Al's along the landing; there'd still been no movement by the time the front door opened and Cam headed out to start the milking. Knowing that either of his two sons failing to turn out in the morning was guaranteed to put Cam in a bad mood for the rest of the day, she got up herself intending to give Dave a second and none too gentle call.

I heard Sarah call out as she marched along the landing and never considered the fact that she was unaware that David had been sleeping downstairs and was now out milking cows with Al and his father; so was in fact heading my way. Seconds later, the door banged open and the bed covers were unceremoniously pulled off me. I was naked, which was the norm and sporting a rigid erection, which first thing in the morning was also not unusual. Sarah gasped with surprise, whilst I kept my eyes firmly shut and pretended that I was still sound asleep; I thought that this would be less embarrassing for both of us.

I'd expected the covers to be carefully drawn back over me, or that at the very least Sarah would quietly withdraw from the room; but there was no further movement or even a sound beyond the two of us breathing. This persisted for five and then ten seconds; I risked easing my eyelids open a fraction and peering out beneath them. Sarah was standing over me, looking as sexy as I'd ever seen her in a very short, black lace nightgown and was quite openly staring directly downwards at my erect prick. Still I didn't stir, perhaps another twenty seconds passed; the suspense was killing me. I'd re-closed my eyes, so I sensed rather than saw Sarah begin to move, before feeling her fingers brush delicately across the tip of my cock, then a second later gently stroke along the length of its shaft. Sarah had always been a feisty woman and invariably projected a very racy image; albeit not quite so raunchy as I had often conjured for her during my adolescent fantasies; but this was reality and so beyond even my expectations.

Feeling no further contact, I pretended to wake up; ensuring that this was a very obvious and protracted process; giving Sarah ample opportunity to discreetly withdraw. I was further amazed by the realisation that she wasn't going to take it. When I could drag my awakening out for no longer I opened my eyes and immediately expressed shock and surprise at Sarah's presence. The smirk she was wearing grew even larger "Don't lie, I saw your eyes moving; you've been awake the whole time"

Sarah had often teased me before, though never in such a compromising situation. I thought the reaction she was expecting would be for me to grab the covers and try to hide my nakedness? I wasn't prepared to give her the satisfaction. "Nope, I've been sound asleep; up until ten seconds ago I was having a marvellous dream"

"So I can see." Sarah nodded toward my rampant prick and gave a most lascivious smile. "I hope I merited at least some small part in this dream of yours?" She obviously wasn't backing-down either.

"I thought you'd realised that you take the leading role in all of my best dreams"

"I'd heard that was Angie Dickinson?"

"No, she gets into some of them and obviously and I have to allow Princess Leia a turn too now and then, but you're my favourite leading lady by far"

"And which of us was it you favoured this morning?"

"Sorry but I'm a gentleman; we never tell"

"Well, it certainly must've been an energetic encounter for you to kick all the covers off"

"No, they were fine until you pulled them off"

"Now how could someone who was 'sound asleep' know that I wonder?"

"Bollocks!"

Sarah laughed uproariously at having caught me out "As we're both now agreed that you're awake, I'll go and put the kettle back on" then nodding toward my still rigid erection as she turned to leave; Sarah added "It's doing well to stay upright without the heating on, but you'd best cover it up again, before you get frost-bitten"

"Hang on, you're the one who uncovered it; it's only fair that you should wrap it up warm again"

"Only in your dreams young man, only in your dreams; besides you're the one who'll get frostbitten, not me" She was almost at the door.

"But it'll be you that I ask to kiss it better for me when I do!" Sarah stopped and half turned at that comment; whereupon I gave her my most winning smile.

My smile was returned; though Sarah's was just plain dirty and she waltzed provocatively back towards the bed, reaching for the discarded covers as she arrived. "I'd better keep you warm then; we don't want to risk that do we"

By now I was completely oblivious to the fact that it was my best mate's mother with whom I was verbally dancing. "It may be too late already; I might be suffering the early effects of exposure"

"And how do we deal with that?"

"Shared body heat, it's the only way"

"I see" Sarah's smile that accompanied these two simple words was if anything even more suggestive.

I can't remember where I'd expected our game to go next; but Sarah's response took me completely by surprise. Whilst locking her gaze with mine, she dropped the covers from her hands; climbed purposely onto the bed beside me, swung her left leg across to straddle my thighs and then reached forward with her right hand to grasp my raging erection whilst using the other to lift the hem of her nightgown. I just lay there, stunned and silent; I was gob-smacked. Sarah issued another of her lascivious grins, shuffled forward, and directed my cock toward the entrance of her pussy then without further hesitation sank down; impaling herself to its full extent in a single thrust. "There now, she gasped "is that warm enough for you?" I could only nod in reply. I was beyond clever reposts and knew that this was no longer a game...

That initial entry was an incredible culmination to my teenaged fantasies and whilst I was never fortunate enough to score with Angie, or Leia, I seriously doubt that they could've got close to Sarah for astonishment factor. Penetrating Sarah had felt like sliding into a vat of warmed grease and once she began to moving; a very gentle fore and aft rocking motion: it just got better and better. Though not a virgin, I wasn't far from it; the permissive society, like everything else in life takes a long while to reach the Wyre Valley. But the encounters I'd had before, were with girls of my own age, all of whom were no more experienced and even more apprehensive than I; this was a whole new world that I'd entered.

As I began to recover my equilibrium, I tried to move in tandem with Sarah; though my timing was none too successful. She pressed her hands against my shoulders, smiled down at me affectionately and slowly shook her head "Don't move, save that for next time; just enjoy."

The thought that there was going to be a 'next time' too, notched up my delight still further. But just in case Sarah changed her mind, I wanted to make sure that I discovered her breasts whilst the opportunity was available. I reached forward to caress them, making delicious albeit perhaps clumsy contact through the silky material of her nightgown; they felt better than I'd ever dared imagine.

Sarah pressed me back once more, repeated the affectionate smile and whispered "take it easy, I'll help" she then leant right forward and we shared a very warm, moist and lingering kiss. 

I wanted it to last forever, but Sarah soon eased back upright and I presume noticing a look of disappointment flash across my eyes; whispered "Don't worry lover, I'll be coming back."

Sarah's next temptation was to rake her fingers luxuriantly across my chest and belly, before lifting them up to and dragging them through, her own hair; rapidly shaking her head as she did so. I knew it had to be a practiced rather than spontaneous gesture, but that made it no less emotive. "Now then, what was it you wanted? Another smile, this time it was both sexy and suggestive: I don't think I've ever met a women with a greater repertoire of smiles.

"Ah yes: now I remember" She very overtly and progressively slipped the narrow straps of her nightgown from each shoulder, gave a brief shimmy and it slid evocatively over her breasts, to drop in a soft circle around her hips. I was knocked for six and could only gasp my appreciation.

I had never seen such an exquisite display; indeed few since have matched it either. I was in hindsight very unfair to the girls who'd been generous enough to expose their breasts to me before then. For whilst some might've matched the vivacity of Sarah's and a few had no doubt possessed equally pert nipples; they were just teenaged girls, not fully matured and wholly complete women. I was entranced; this being enhanced by Sarah's subtle pelvic thrusts having restarted; the motion from which was being quite delightfully conveyed to her full breasts. Sarah too, could see how my eyes; as if magnetised, tracked the gentle movements of her gorgeous nipples and was I believe equally aroused; she certainly accelerated and became more forceful in the action of her hips. "God, they're beautiful" was the best I could manage.

Sarah's movements eased; I was gifted a contented smile as she leant forward once again, allowing our mouths to meet in another hungry kiss and those objects of my fascination to fall gently within my grasp. We stayed in this position for several minutes, our lips and tongues discovering each other more fully as my fingers, traced circles around her coarse areole and tugged playfully at her erect nipples. I was saddened when Sarah eventually pulled away from our kisses, the action also taking her breasts beyond my eager grasp; thankfully this regret was swiftly assuaged by a realisation that she was only pressing further forward; to present those luscious orbs to my lips instead. "Thank you" was my I mumbled response.

Sarah continued to ride me for perhaps ten minutes, easing or accelerating her rocking motion in a seemingly random manner; interspersing these with a hard, circular grinding of her groin against mine. This was a world away from any of the previous experiences that I'd enjoyed; hurried and nervous fumbles on the back seats of cars or quick and muted couplings on the lounge carpet. This slow climb toward gratification brought a whole new meaning to the word pleasure and I now realise that there was nothing random about it. With the benefit of experience, Sarah was constantly aware of my state of arousal and had skilfully tempered her motions to enable this protraction of our coupling; though at the time, I'd presumed it was my own self-control and after ten minutes or more, had begun to congratulate myself accordingly; though unfortunately a few moments too soon.

Sarah began to speed-up once more, her breaths were coming noticeably faster and her skin shone with perspiration "Enjoying yourself" she gasped.

"Wonderful" I replied; equally breathless

"Better than with Angie or Leia"

"I told you, I don't tell tales out of school; suffice it to say that I wish this could go on forever"

"I hope not, I'll get sore as hell; two more minutes will be more than enough for me lover"

"I'll try not to be too far behind you"

My smile grew even wider; this humorous and open banter during sex was also a new experience, I was feeling on top of the world; a real 'super-stud'. Unfortunately, my relaxed and confident response caused Sarah's only miscalculation; she squeezed the walls of her pussy tight around my turgid cock and bore down once more. The Joe-cool façade instantly disappeared and I responded I'm certain; no differently to any other eighteen-year old who's been given the chance to fulfil his deepest adolescent fantasies. I ejaculated. No hesitation, no warning and no control, just stream after powerful stream, spraying deep onto Sarah's receptive womb; whilst I gasped, swore and thrashed around on my back.


The Nixon Girls Ch. 01



I could hear Sarah's voice through the mists of my orgasm "Shit, not again!" It would be many years before the significance of those words was explained.

As I descended back to planet earth, I gave Sarah a sheepish smile and whispered "Sorry, I'll try to do better next time"

The look she gave me was almost ravenous. "Who says that this time's over? You're not finished yet." 

Sarah re-started her grinding thrusts against my still engorged, but clearly softening cock, whilst simultaneously grabbing my left hand in her own and pressing my fingers into the top of her pussy. She jammed them hard against her slick clitoris and pushed herself forward against them to further increase the friction that they afforded. I was awestruck, I'd never seen a girl so brazenly pursue her sexual needs; I was also stunned at the ferocity with which she ravaged her clitoris, I would never have dreamed that women might take pleasure from that degree of aggression; having always tried to be gentle with my own caresses.

It certainly hit the spot and within thirty seconds I felt Sarah's pussy clench tight, whilst she went rigid above me and spasmed, he finger nails biting savagely into the back of my hand: then easing both her grips, she fell forward onto my chest and our heat, perspiration and racing heart-beats merged.

I didn't trust myself to speak and it was a couple of minutes later before Sarah broke our silence, with a casual "Mmmm, that's much better; how about you?"

"It was a fantasy realised; how could it have been anything other than fantastic? Thank you. I wrapped my arms around Sarah and squeezed, whilst planting a kiss on her head; it was the only part of her I could reach. "Sorry I, well, you know, erm, sort of, didn't last out; I'll do better next time."

Sarah laughed as she rolled off me "I hope you'll try to anyway; but don't worry, you did far better than I'd any right to expect."

I was overjoyed; a compliment on my performance and more importantly, Sarah had again suggested that this wasn't just a one-off. "When can we do it again?"

Sarah nodded toward my already re-stiffening cock and gave me her dirty smile "By the look of you I'd say that we 'can' in about three more minutes. But the more important question is when 'will' we do this again? and that's not going to be now; I need to take a shower and start making breakfast.

I was disappointed and it obviously showed; but Sarah smiled reassuringly "Don't worry Rob we will make love again, I promise; you didn't think I was the sort of girl who'd go in for a one-night-stand did you?

Her humour was as always infectious and I was forced to smile back.

"But we have to be discreet; if Cam came in early for breakfast and caught us like this, I doubt if even you could talk your way out of it. Now go back to sleep; if you're up and about when they come in for breakfast; they might be suspicious!"

Sarah then gave me a final peck on the cheek slid off the bed and headed for the door; I called out "But when?"

"I'll let you know."

"And what about, er, you know, sort of, other girls I'm seeing"

Sarah burst out laughing. "Oh don't drop your other girls for god's sake; Dave would know for sure that something was going on then!"

"You don't mind?"

"Well, not in general; though there are limits."

"Meaning what?"

"Ooh you're looking all serious again. Another broad grin. "Meaning that what you do with any of the local girls isn't an issue; but if one word gets back to me about you dating Princess Leia or that bitch Angie Dickinson, you're dead-meat!" 

With a final smile, she turned and was gone. As I said: a crazy lady.

The keen-eyed readers will have noticed that the pink penny didn't appear. But since I didn't discover it during that first encounter; then it's only right that you should wait too.



The Nixon Girls Ch. 02



Chapter 2: Sarah

Sarah's Tale Continued; March 1984.

Early the following evening saw me back at the Weir house, which was in itself unusual; Dave invariably collected me from the Rugby Club where I spent most Saturday afternoons in the winter. Sarah answered the door to my knock and after a quick glance around the hallway I gave her a brief kiss and gently squeezed her left buttock; the response whilst not cold, was certainly disappointing. She turned and walked into the lounge with me following, where whilst ostensibly waiting for Dave and Alistair to get ready for our evening out I desperately tried to catch Sarah's attention without arousing any suspicions in her husband Campbell.

"So where are you lads heading for tonight then?" Cam asked

"Oh, you-know, just around and about." I replied.

"Just going pubbing, or have you got some girls lined-up too?"

"Nothing's arranged, we'll just see who's out"

"And what time are you likely to be back?"

"I've no idea; it depends on where we get to and who we meet"

"Leave him alone Cam. Sarah interjected. "The boys will be back before the cows need milking tomorrow morning and that's all you're really bothered about."

"Rubbish, as a responsible parent it's the safety issues I'm thinking about."

"Don't worry about us Mr. Weir, we'll be OK"

He grinned. "I know that! It's the safety of everyone else that I worry about when you buggers are on the loose. No doubt I'll hear all the gory details of what you've got up to at breakfast time tomorrow"

Sarah interjected once again "Not from Rob you won't, he's got some jobs to do for his dad tomorrow and has to leave early; so make sure that you get him up and away-home when you and the boys go to do the milking Cam"

"OK" Cam replied.

It was the first I knew about any chores at home and whilst Sarah was looking away from me when she'd spoken, the message was clear enough: I wouldn't be welcome in her bed the following morning, so much for 'next time'. I was stunned; I wanted to ask why, but she left the room and with Cam sitting there I could hardly go chasing after her to find out.

After a few more minutes of small-talk with Cam, Dave and Al arrived and we headed out for the evening. Sarah's rejection had left me feeling somewhat out of sorts, but I could hardly explain my reasons to her sons, so I shrugged my shoulders, downed a few beers and thought 'sod-her; let's party' It turned into a fairly riotous evening and was close to 3:00 a.m. before we got back, so when Cam woke me at the same time as Dave and Al early the next morning I was feeling dog-rough; after a reviving coffee with them I headed for home; I didn't even see Sarah.

I wasn't back there again until the following weekend and rather than face Sarah I just sounded the horn and waited for Dave in the car. Dave waved from his bedroom window; signalling that he'd be a few more minutes and that I should come in. I responded in the negative, signalled for him to hurry-up and started flicking through a motorbike magazine that was on the back-seat. Thirty seconds later, the passenger-door opened and Sarah climbed in beside me, I was so surprised that I dropped my magazine; she must've come around the side of the house via the back door.

"Not coming in to say hello?" she asked

"Erm. No. We're already late so I thought if I stayed here; it would make Dave hurry up"

"You'll be lucky; when has Dave ever hurried for anything" We both smiled; his tardiness was legendry.

"There's always a first time"

Sarah cocked her head to one side and proffered a small smile "And you're just sulking because there's not been a second time"

I looked away from her "No, why should I be?"

"No reason at all, I've just not seen you for almost a week; so I thought you might be avoiding me"

"Of course not, I've just been busy"

"With Jenny Laing?"

I continued to focus on a sycamore-tree beyond the windscreen "That's none of your business."

"True enough and even if it were; as a gentleman you'd never tell"

"Exactly" I still wouldn't look at her.

"And as I told you last week, what you do and apart from Angie and Princess Leia, who with; doesn't bother me.

That comment got my attention and I turned toward her for the first time.

"Though you might appreciate some advice regarding young Miss Laing?"

"What sort of advice?"

She smiled again; this time warmly "Are you meeting her this evening?"

"No, we're heading up to Lancaster"

"Then it'll keep until tomorrow morning."

I quickly glanced toward the house; seeing nobody I stretched out my left hand toward her; but seeing the smile begin to fade from her eyes I stopped and withdrew it. "I look forward to the conversation"

Sarah's smile was back "Not as much as me; remember it's my turn"

Before I could manage a reply, the door was opening and Sarah was climbing out "if anyone saw us, I was enquiring about your grandma's twisted knee; OK?"

I just nodded and whilst I returned to my magazine, I didn't even see the words.

It wasn't a memorable night, other than for the fact that when Cam, Dave and Alistair were heading out to start work the following morning; I was wide awake, albeit pretending otherwise. I'd been relegated back to the lounge settee for the night, so was forced to listen with increasing impatience to their early morning chatter; whilst thinking 'just go and milk your fucking cows!'

Within seconds of them leaving the house I was out of my pit and fairly bounding up the stairs; I hesitated for a moment as I reached Sarah's bedroom door; it was slightly ajar so I pushed it open and stepped through. Sarah was walking out of the shower-room, fastening a robe around herself and apparently naked otherwise, she looked up as I moved towards her with my arms outstretched but she made no move to reciprocate until I was almost upon her; when she took a pace back and gave me the hardest slap to the face I'd ever suffered "Don't ever come into my bedroom uninvited! She screamed "and you stink like a brewery; don't you know where the bathroom is?" Sarah turned on her heel, returned to her shower-room and slammed the door behind her. I was stunned and slunk away; initially angry at her for seeming to lead me on and then knock me back once more; but at the same time having to accept that I probably did smell of last nights beer and that it might've been polite to have knocked at her door before entering; I'd just been so damned eager for her! And now I'd blown it; knowing that it was my own impatience to blame made that even worse. I retreated to the bathroom and took a shower, whilst trying to think of how I might engineer another opportunity to win her around; then wrapped in a towel, I slipped quietly past Sarah's door and headed back downstairs to collect my things and head for home; the idea of seeing her across the breakfast table this morning was not appealing.

I was half-way down the stairs when I heard a door open above me and the sound of Sarah's voice "Going somewhere?" she asked.

I stopped but didn't look back "I, I've got some jobs to do for my dad" was my mumbled reply.

"Now that's not very original is it? Nor is it very nice to just sneak away without saying goodbye."

I still didn't dare to look at her "I know and I'm sorry, I hope you can forgive me and perhaps give me another chance sometime?"

"Not if you can't be trusted to make good on your promises I won't"

"What promises?" I'd started to descend again; I just wanted to be out of there.

"Well last Saturday morning you promised that you'd concentrate on my pleasure 'next time' and last night you promised that next time would be 'this morning' didn't you?"

That statement halted my descent. Was Sarah saying what I thought, or at least hoped, she was saying? I hesitated, confused; I considered a dozen responses, but was terrified of misinterpreting her again; I settled for saying nothing and turning to look back at her, hopefully the look on her face might give me some clue as to a suitable response. It did, though there was a few seconds delay in my finding it; my gaze being arrested by the sight of her when I turned: the bathrobe had gone and I saw that I had at least been right once this morning. Sarah was leaning casually on the balustrade, stark naked; looking up to her from below, the sight was awesome and her face carried a huge and encouraging smile. "If you're going to make good on those promises, I'll be in my room" she stood upright and turned away.

My heart raced and I could feel my prick engorge beneath the pale blue towel at my waist; it took a huge effort not to charge up the stairs after her but I wasn't going to let impetuosity be my undoing again. I turned, slowly re-climbed the stairs; regaining at least some control of my heart rate and breathing as I went. Went I reached the door to Sarah's bedroom, it was wide open; she was standing midway between it and the bed, looking toward me expectantly; I stopped at the threshold and gave her my most winning smile.

"What's wrong now; what are you waiting for?" she asked.

"I'm waiting to be invited in" I coolly replied.

She laughed "You got that invitation on the staircase"

"No, I listened carefully. You asked me a question and you told me where I could find you; but there was no specific invitation to cross the threshold"

"Are you sure?" her look was more sober.

"Absolutely. I might be slow on the uptake occasionally, but I try never to repeat a mistake."

"In that case." She opened her arms and gave me the sexiest 'come-hither' look I have ever seen, either before or since; whilst whispering "Rob, would you please come-in and make love to me?"

I stepped forward, we embraced, kissed and I grasped Sarah firmly whilst whispering my response directly into her ear "If I must; I'm not really in the mood you understand, but as you said: I did promise"

Sarah struggled in my arms, not trying to escape from my embrace; but to see the look on my face. When she'd managed that, her smile grew as broad as my own; she gave me an exploratory kiss and pulled away slightly, then grinning wickedly whispered "Bastard" and kneed me gently in the balls; whilst at the same time pushing me over backwards onto the bed.

As I laid there laughing, Sarah rushed over to the door, slammed it shut and locked it too. "If that's your attitude, I'd better make damned sure you can't escape" she too was by now in hysterics.

My own laughter began subsiding "Don't worry Sarah I've no intention of going anywhere. I just felt that my stupidity had left the mood a little too serious, for making love"

"I usually worry about the fact you don't take things seriously enough Rob; but in the case of lovemaking, I have to agree that it's invariably more fun when it's light-hearted."

"So, I'm finally making progress. Two lessons learnt and one I already knew. Can we move on to number four yet?"

"A touch of humour was number four, it's lesson five next."

"So which lesson did I miss?"

"None. The first lesson was about keeping our relationship discreet. I hoped I'd taught you that last Saturday?"

"Ah, I suppose I did flunk that one"

"You certainly did. Kissing me in the hall-way like that, anyone could've appeared; then afterwards in the lounge you were looking at me like an affectionate puppy; god knows how Cam missed it."

"Sorry, I'll try to be more careful"

"You already have been. Last night in your car remember: you thought better of reaching out to touch me; if you hadn't you wouldn't be here this morning and perhaps not ever."

My only response was a weak and sheepish smile.

"Hey, don't go all serious on me again; you managed to scrape through the test and believe me, if you weren't here this morning, I'd be just as disappointed as you. I was crying in frustration as I listened to you leave last Sunday morning"

"You weren't alone in that"

"Good. I'm desperate to keep this thing going between us Rob; but no matter how much I want you; our relationship will always come second to that I have with my husband and sons."

"Point taken and understood. I smiled again "Besides I feel exactly the same; I'd hate to get offside with my best mate just because of some 'bird'"

"I was right; you are a bastard." But Sarah said this with an expanding smile, accepting my light-hearted comment as it was intended and dispelling the air of seriousness that was threatening to overtake us once again.

I was still sitting on the edge of the bed; Sarah stepped forward, knelt in front of me and we embraced; enjoying a long moist kiss before she drew back and began kissing my neck and chest, whilst sliding her right hand beneath the towel still at my waist and ascending along the top of my thigh until her fingers reached and encircled my erect prick. I gasped and rocked back; Sarah took that opportunity to unfasten the towel from my waist and throw it aside; I certainly wasn't trying to stop her. Sarah resumed her light kisses to my chest, whilst slowly and very deliberately stroking her hand up and down the shaft of my cock.

Sarah's kisses moved further down across my belly before abruptly stopping; but not the action of her hand; as Sarah looked up at me, staring squarely into my eyes; then lowering her head once more, she drew back my foreskin and settled kisses on the very tip of my now raging cock. Sarah's hand continued to stroke smoothly, whilst she placed more kisses upon my crown, ran her tongue around its base and finally opened her mouth wide and pressed it firmly over my cock-head. My heart was by now racing, none of my previous girlfriends had done this for me; not that I'd dared even to suggest they might. Sarah's hand continued to trace the length of my shaft, her mouth remained closed; wetly suckling at my tip, whilst her tongue tease me from within; the outcome was predictable, though the speed of its arrival surprised me.

Sarah was clearly better prepared; having withdrawn her lips perhaps two-seconds earlier, she was wrapping the recently discarded towel around my throbbing prick at my moment of ejaculation. My own loss of control was absolute, I'd slumped backward onto the bed and could only tremble, my toes and fingers spastically clenching with each emission; it seemed an eternity until I regained command over my faculties.

When finally I did, it was to see Sarah's upturned face resting gently and patiently on my stomach, bearing a look which I can only describe as that of the 'cat which got the cream'. I smiled raised myself onto my elbows and smiled down at her, hoarsely whispering "Thank you; no one's ever given me a blow-job before."

Sarah's smile became raunchy "Oh you've still got a treat to look forward to then; by my standards you still haven't been given one; that was just a tweak"

What look crossed my face, I've no idea; but in response to it, Sarah burst out laughing. "I'm not kidding; I promise that when I do treat you to a blow-job, you'll know and never forget it. But that won't be this morning; it's all about my pleasure today."

"So I seem to remember; but I'm not off to a great start am I? Laid here whilst you 'tweak' me to an orgasm."

The voracious smile again. "Don't you believe it; that was totally selfish on my part."

I took the time to think for a few moments, but still couldn't catch up. "Sorry Sarah, you've lost me again."

"Think about it. You were steamed up like a young bull five minutes ago; so would've rushed any fore-play in your impatience to get your rocks off. Now, even allowing for the recuperative powers of youth, it'll be at least twenty and probably thirty minutes before you're ready to go again, so I can look forward to your spending all that time and more in indulging me! Let's call that lesson 4½."

"Well now it's over, won't you join me here in bed? I'd like to get started on lesson five"

She leapt in beside me with a squeal of delight "I thought you'd never ask!"

"I've thought of very little else since 7:30 last night. Now where would you like me to begin?"

"Oh No; I'm not offering clues, it's up to you to discover all the places that make me tingle.

I must've looked unsure.

"Don't worry, it's not a lesson you can possibly fail; it's more a question of how high a passing score you can achieve"

I leant forward, cupping her left breast in my hand, whilst stroking my thumb across the nipple.

Sarah trembled "A good start and don't dare stop; but I'm not giving away high marks for my boobs; or my pussy either for that matter; they're too obvious."

"That's not fair."

"What's the problem? You're supposed to be training as a Surveyor aren't you? So just give me a complete and thorough survey; watch for the results and you can't go wrong."

Whilst I could've happily whiled away half-an-hour, even half a lifetime playing with Sarah's pert breasts and warm pussy; that clearly wasn't going to hit the spot for her. I now wondered if I'd been mistaken in my assumption with previous girls that it'd been sufficient for their needs either? Too late to worry about that: I wasn't prepared to settle for barely scraping through this latest 'lesson'. Sarah had asked for a 'complete and thorough survey' and I was going to make damned sure she got one to remember; "Your wish is my command." I assured her; sliding close up beside her and moving my fingers to the very crown of her head whilst lightly kissing the tip of her nose.

The next hour; despite not orgasming myself, proved to be the most sexually charged and exciting of my entire life. It was a memorable experience for me; as I used my fingers lips and tongue to explore every inch of Sarah's body. It's been a matter of pride and delight, that during the ensuing years, I've subsequently found very few arousal points on Sarah, beyond those which I discovered that morning. I've always hoped that the memory has been similarly cherished by Sarah. And my findings during this journey of discovery...

Sarah enjoyed my fingers being drawn through her hair, whilst the fingernails scraped across her scalp; better yet was to pull her hair; harder than one would think bearable; not savagely but with an initially firm grip, followed by a steady increase in the tension, until her head was dragged backward. Sarah relished having the main body and lobes of her ears bitten hard, with these bites to be soothed afterward by the application of warm breaths; but she hated that her ears be touched in any way whatsoever with my tongue. I came to appreciate the good sense of Oriental men, in finding the nape of a woman's neck erotic, whilst discovering that Sarah appreciated the scrape of fingernails here too. Actually, her preference to be scratched with my nails, rather than stroked with the pads of my fingers applied to all areas of her body; save for the soles of her feet, the area of her nipples and areole and within the very centre of her womanhood – to scratch hard at the backs of her knees, insteps of her feet and the inside of her upper arms drove Sarah wild; her reaction to a similar touch close beside the boundaries of her swollen labia was even more dramatic. Sarah was equally susceptible to intrusions by my tongue, with the exception of her ears as noted earlier, indeed anywhere above her collarbone; Sarah was a sucker for a gently probing tongue. Particularly favoured receptors were to be found between her toes, the edges of her areole, the point where the underside of her breasts met her rib-cage, virtually anywhere between her knees and navel and most particularly the tight rose-bud of her anal-ring; all probes there proving repeatedly to be explosive. Sarah preferred her breasts to be cupped, stroked and massaged gently; whilst by contrast the favoured treatment for her buttocks was that they be mauled and pulled with a degree of savagery which it took me some time to become comfortable with. With the exception of her ears noted previously and her buttocks too, Sarah preferred that all bites be 'gentle nibbles' and perhaps on the basis of discretion rather than dislike, permitted none whatsoever wherever the resulting teeth-marks might be publicly displayed.




The Nixon Girls Ch. 02



Whilst I'd love to claim all credit for the extent of these discoveries, I must confess that Sarah herself provided unwitting assistance. Early on in my 'survey' I noticed a small mole; three inches left of centre and about an inch below Sarah's ribcage; over-shadowed though not hidden, by the swell of her breast. It was about the size of a penny and pale-pink in colour; but as I soon discovered, this colouration varied in accordance with Sarah's state of arousal. Whilst it was possible to bring Sarah to orgasm, without a significant change in the shade of this sexy tell-tale; I found that if I could tailor the strength and direction of my caresses to stave off her fully orgasming until the shade of this mole had reached the deep purple of Bordeaux wine and then make a final assault at her shining clitoris, with either fingers or tongue; I could mentally count downward from ten, in full confidence that Sarah would reach a devastating orgasm, before I'd reached one. It was remarkable and I've often thought since; that the pleasure I savoured that morning in compiling each new sequence of touches, caresses, bites and, kisses to achieve the required colour-change to that darling spot was almost equal to that which Sarah derived from my efforts.

By the end of that hour, Sarah was in a state of perpetual trembling, she glowed with from a sheen of perspiration and hadn't uttered a coherent sentence in more than fifteen minutes; the feeling of power was amazing. I withdrew my tongue from her pussy, halting in the assumption that Sarah was now spent and wholly exhausted: I was wrong. Whilst her spirited, feisty persona had been temporarily pacified, she still retained the power of speech "Enough: Fuck Me: I can't help you: Just do it: Hard; Now: Pleeeeasssse" each word was issued in a hoarse whisper; forming part of a rasping breath.

I slid up Sarah's body observing her legs parting further; as if to emphasise her invitation: as our groins coincided, I used my right hand to guide the head of my now throbbing cock between the pouting lips of her sodden pussy; pressed gently forward and watched as my shaft disappeared inside of Sarah in a single, smooth motion; whilst she issued a long exhalation by way of reception. I withdrew almost the full extent, in a similar single motion; Sarah drew in an equally huge gasp of oxygen, which was released in an extended "Yessssssss" on my second penetration. Her next inward breath was again harmonised with my withdrawal and formed the words "Harder: Faster" and on re-entry she added a beseeching "Pleaseeeee". I would've loved to continue with those slow probes forever; but remembering my promise that this morning was to be first and foremost for Sarah, I conceded to her requests; increasing both the pace and power of my penetration.

Sarah trembled beneath me; eyes tightly closed; teeth gnawing at her bottom lip. I could sense her excitement beginning to build once again: she found the energy to wrap her legs around my hips; her ankles locking at the small of my back. As our momentum increased, Sarah's buttocks lifted clear of the mattress on each withdrawal, only to crash back with my next penetration. I wedged my forehead against the pillow above her shoulder; thus freeing my hands to massage Sarah's breasts: they were burning hot; whilst rolling her hard nipples between each finger and thumb. I'd reached my maximum speed; hoped she would now be content with just an increase in power to each successive thrust, as I drove ever harder and deeper between her legs. I transferred my hands to her buttocks, mauling them roughly as she'd so obviously enjoyed before; now trapping my hands between them and the mattress on each penetration.

Sarah's climax was getting closer; promising to match, perhaps even exceed those that had gone before; beyond the visible signs of her escalating arousal; I could hear an acceleration in her breathing and feel the strengthening rhythm of her heartbeat; Sarah's mounting excitement could now be physically tasted on her skin and scented in the air surrounding us. I knew the moment was imminent and using the insight granted by my earlier explorations, I pressed forward with my right index finger; teasing at the tight ring of Sarah's bum. I drove forward one last time; forcing Sarah back against the mattress, the impact pressing that digit beyond the resistance of the muscular ring; whilst the penetration was minor, perhaps only half an inch; the result proved volcanic.

Sarah's entire body became rigid; her back arched with such vehemence that despite bearing my weight too, her mid-sections repeatedly sprang upward from the mattress; the force was sufficient to dislodge me from my entrenchment within her pulsating channel and leave me struggling to retain my balance above her. I was forced to release my grip on Sarah's writhing buttocks; I now needed to brace and support myself as she thrashed and squirmed below: Whilst the ocular expression of Sarah's orgasm proved impressive, the auditory manifestation bordered on frightening; at the moment of my final, dual penetration; Sarah sharply inhaled with a force that seemed capable of bursting her lungs; this she followed with a piercing and protracted scream that only dwindled to the level of a moan and eventually a muted whimper as the available air dwindled from her over-extended lungs; the initial sound was deafening. By the time that Sarah's body relented sufficiently for her to inhale once again, her delicate features had become distorted and her complexion was puce: I was scared by the raw power of Sarah's climax.

I rolled off Sarah to lie on the bed beside her; it proved to be several minutes before she had recovered adequately to enable coherent words to be exchanged; during which interlude I contemplated the reality of my not having actually climaxed myself. Whilst the issue (or lack of it) was in itself a surprise, the realisation that I really didn't actually care, came as something of a revelation. I was confident that if I told Sarah, she would promptly remedy this shortcoming; but I simply wasn't interested; I felt that any recommencement of our coupling could only be anticlimax for Sarah and perhaps me too?

Sarah was the first to break our companionable silence. "Wow" such a small word; but I thought then and now, that it said it all.

I had one eye on the clock; Campbell and the lads would be in for breakfast within twenty minutes; it was so frustrating; I could've laid there with Sarah for the whole day. "We need; in the interests of discretion: to be making a move."

Sarah's smile was weak and bore a trace of sadness "At this precise moment, I just hate reality"

"Me too. I quietly replied. "Though hopefully, there's always next time to look forward to" 

The sexy grin was back "Oh, you can count on it lover! Sarah's effervescence had returned and she fairly bounced from the bed and dragged me out after her. "Get downstairs and slap some bacon in the pan whilst I take another shower; but even if I'm not down, make damned sure that you're back in your own pit and 'asleep' by eight twenty-five: I can't think of anything more suspicious than you being up early."

I grabbed her as she stopped to unlock the door: pulling her into a deep kiss before she could open it; a ghastly portal back into the real world.

I needn't have worried as when we stepped out onto the landing it was Sarah who grasped me; her concerns for discretion temporarily banished; to allow a final embrace.

As I headed down the stairs I heard Sarah call-out "Fourteen"

"Fourteen what?" I replied.

"Your test score Lover"

I was bewildered by the oddity of the number which she'd seemingly chosen so precisely "But fourteen out of how many; surely not a hundred?"

"No Silly, fourteen out of ten.

I was even more perplexed by that response and it obviously showed. I didn't answer.

A burst of amused laughter and a shake of Sarah's head "It's only fair; you managed to find four more erogenous zones that even I didn't know I had." 

I grinned up at her; feeling like the king of the hill. Sarah blew me a final kiss; turned then disappeared along the landing.



The Nixon Girls Ch. 03



Chapter 3: Jane

April 1988.

Friday night and for once I wasn't out with my pal David Wear; it was the local Rugby Club's Annual Dinner and that sport was one of the few interests that we didn't share. In Dave's words "What sort of fucking moron goes out and gets a kicking every Saturday afternoon just for fun? It's not even as if you get paid for it!" I must admit; there have been days when I've wondered the same thing.

It promised to be a good night and I was there early propping up the bar. I'd no partner for the evening as by tradition all unattached members of the first team and even a few who were married, came alone; then spent the evening getting wildly drunk at the expense of the past-players. The theory was that the resulting hangovers made things safer for the past-players the following day, when an annual 'Past versus Present First Fifteens' match was played.

I was approached almost immediately by Lorna, the younger sister of our team captain; this was something of a surprise as it was no secret that she disliked me intensely; Of far more interest however, was the girl that was with her; she was a stunner! Lorna began chatting and made the appropriate introductions; her friend was called 'Jane' and like her was a final year student at the local school. 

Close-up Jane looked even prettier and was also something of an enigma. A student at the local high-school, she spoke; albeit rarely as she was clearly very shy, with a local accent and was drop-dead gorgeous too; why hadn't I dated or at the very least met this girl before? Whilst tonight was hardly a perfect situation, I decided that I should immediately rectify this serious oversight and proceeded to flirt with her outrageously: not surprisingly Lorna soon withdrew.

Jane had very fine, silky and naturally blonde hair, which she then wore fairly long; reaching I suppose to about the bottom of her shoulder blades. Her eyes were a liquid Blue/Green shade and looked as if they could just swallow you up. Even back then Jane's figure could be best described as statuesque and in the low-cut, iridescent blue and perhaps fractionally too small cocktail dress she was wearing it was shown off to perfection. A few years later my elder brother described Jane as "A poor man's Bridget Bardot" I know her better and disagree; BB is poor man's Jane Bright. Jane's personality remains unfathomable; she was certainly very shy and nervous when I first knew her and even now she still can be; but nowadays if you were to meet her it's just as likely that her passionate and adventurous side would be on display. I surrendered and stopped trying to fathom her out, years ago.

We stayed chatting at the bar for quite some time and whilst her nervousness eased a little, I was still unable to find out much about her; though she clearly knew who I was. Jane was happy to discuss rugby, of which she clearly knew very little and motorcycle racing, about which she was a little more knowledgeable; it was only later that I realised she knew more about my own racing exploits than she perhaps ought. From the questioning looks I received from friends and team-mates in passing, it was clear that Jane was a stranger to them too; I was increasingly intrigued. We stayed together until it was time to take our places for dinner and on the first team table at least 'who is she?' was a major topic of conversation; even Lorna's brother didn't seem to know her; just 'some friend of Lorna's' though he did advise that whilst looking older; Jane might not be eighteen yet and so I should perhaps 'watch my step.' 

After the speeches and presentations and despite my rapidly increasing inebriation, I rejoined Jane quickly; not least because several team-mates had by now expressed their own interests. We spent the remainder of the evening dancing together and though the loud music deterred much further conversation I did at least get Jane's surname, an address and phone number (both local as suspected) and arranged to collect her for a 'date' on the Sunday afternoon; when I would to take her for a spin on one of my motorbikes around the Lake District. Beyond that things are fairly vague, the alcohol took its toll and I don't actually remember Jane Leaving.

Not unexpectedly, the following morning was not one of my best; but I made it back to the Rugby Club for a couple of lunchtime 'sharpeners' before we took to the field and were resoundingly beaten by the past-players. That's another tradition; the old-boys always win the game and then foot the bill for another major piss-up on the Saturday evening; this annual and un-missable party being the main reason behind my fixing our date for the Sunday afternoon, not Saturday night. 

It was whilst heading for the showers after the game that one of the stewards stopped me to pass on an 'urgent' phone message. It was 'vital' that I went around to the Weir's farm that evening and especially stressed that this visit was to be 'before you get too pissed.' It seemed a strange request so after my shower, I got a pint at the bar and made further enquiries; it was then that I discovered the message hadn't been from David as I'd imagined; but from Sarah. I was horrified; my beer turned sour in the glass: the connotations of a message like that from Sarah were too frightening to consider. I left immediately, making apologies to those around me and whilst assuring everyone that I'd be 'back in an hour or so' I hoped rather than anticipated that my words would prove true.

It was only about five miles to the Weir farm, but felt like the longest journey of my life as I anticipated what trouble lay in wait; as I came up the farm track, the men were clearly heading back toward the house from the cow-sheds and both Al and Dave waved at my approach; perhaps it wasn't what I feared; though Cam carried on into the house, not looking my way; perhaps the boys didn't know? They were waiting as I got out of the car; Dave's first words "you are in deep shit sunbeam" were not reassuring, nor was Al's adjunct of "Ma is gonna kill you" Though the grins they were wearing suggested that things were not as serious as I'd feared?

"So what's Sarah mad about?"

"Oh, we're not getting involved. But you'd better get in there quick; pa's already gone on ahead to tell her you've arrived" was Dave's enigmatic response.

I headed inside with Dave and Al at my shoulders; my first sight as I entered the lounge was Cam, standing there and looking sternly toward me "At last; the village cradle-snatcher arrives!"

I was bewildered by that comment and it clearly showed. Cam and the boys burst out laughing whilst Sarah; who was smiling at least; replied "Sit down Rob, we need to talk; so outside the rest of you and leave us to it."

There was a grumble of complaint; not least from Cam who hadn't initially realised that Sarah's dismissal included him too; but she's never been a lady you argue with and within thirty seconds we were alone.

"Don't look so worried; you're not in trouble. Sarah reassured. "Well I don't think you are?"

I grinned before responding "This isn't a worried look; that disappeared a few moments ago when I realized your mysterious phone message to the Rugby Club didn't indicate that our relationship had been discovered"

A burst of laughter. "God I'm sorry; I can see now how you might have thought that: well don't worry, that secret's still safe"

"So what was so urgent?"

"I thought you might tell me?"

"Knowing it's not me and you; I would until ninety seconds ago have had no idea; but given Cam's comment and the timing; I now presume it's something to do with the pretty blonde girl that I met last night?"

"Right first time. Now why should I want to discuss Jane with you?"

I noticed that Sarah had referred to Jane by name, when I specifically hadn't. "I have no idea; but things are sounding promising; as you seem to know who she is at least; which is more than any of us at the Rugby Club did.

That elicited more laughter from Sarah. "Did I say something amusing?"

Sarah shook her head, in what I mistakenly thought was apology. "For God's sake; whilst Jane's hardly part of the local social scene; the one guy there last night who does know her is you!"

"Me? I've never met her before in my life."

"Wrong. Which Jane do we both know? Did you even ask her surname?"

"Yes; I can't remember it at the moment; things got a bit heavy last night; but I've got it written down somewhere. 

"Does Nixon ring any bells?"

"Yes; certainly it's something like that."

"So I'll try again. Which Jane Nixon do we both know?"

"Look I'm sorry Sarah; but I've never seen that girl before. Believe me; I would've recognised her if I had."

"God you men; you never look above a girls cleavage!"

I grinned "From that comment; I'd agree that we're certainly discussing the same girl"

"And you obviously didn't recognise her dress either then?"

"If I don't know the girl, I'm hardly likely to know the dress, am I? But I can promise you that I'd recognise that too if I saw it a second time."

"You obviously don't look below a girl's cleavage either: that was the second time you've seen that dress!"

"When was the first?"

"Your parents New Year's Eve bash."

"No way; Jane wasn't there; I'd have remembered."

"No you bloody fool; she wasn't. But I was and in that dress; which as I remember you telling me at the time 'looked marvelous.' Clearly it wasn't so marvelous that you remember it now."

"So why was this Jane girl wearing your dress?"

"Because she's my niece Jane: Jane Nixon: as in Jane and Eve; who you've met on at least a half a dozen occasions that I can remember."

"But she has pig-tails and glasses and more importantly is only about bloody fourteen! She was absolutely not the girl I met last night."

"This might be a surprise to you Rob, but pig-tails aren't permanent, they can be combed out; in the same way that glasses can be replaced with contact-lenses."

"I know that! But the girl I was with last night was NOT you're niece"

"Honestly Rob; it was: I could probably give a better description of her than you can, as I was the one who lent her the dress and went to her house to do her hair and make-up last night. She said there was 'a boy going that she really fancied' but I never dreamt that it was you"

"Exactly; she claimed to be a school friend of Lorna Eden's but Lorna's eighteen, not fourteen."

"And neither is Jane. Oh she might've looked fourteen the last time you saw her, but that was just the way her father made her dress. Jane's almost eighteen too."

"I still don't like the sound of that 'almost'."

"Why does that matter, you're certainly not going to sleep with her."

I grinned at that "I assume she's on the list with Angie and Princess Leia then?"

Sarah laughed out loud "You couldn't be more wrong. I'm all in favour of your dating Jane; that's why I needed to see you so urgently."

"That you will have to explain."

"Look; it would be an understatement to say that Jane's upbringing has been sheltered; her father didn't let her grow-up at all. But that's all changed now and I can't think of anyone better qualified to bring her out of herself and introduce her onto the local social scene, whilst keeping her safe; than you. Besides which, she'll get lots of kudos amongst her friends if she's seen on the arm our local racing super-star, which can only help her confidence too."

"But what about me."

"What about you? You can't claim she's not pretty enough for you. Hell; you were keen enough to date her before you found out who she was."

"And when I thought she was over eighteen. I'd have dropped her quickly enough once I'd discovered that mistake!"

"But that's what's so perfect about the situation; I can rely on you to behave with Jane; so I can, in fact already have given Jane's mum a glowing recommendation about you. It will of course mean that you're not getting laid, but I'm sure I can take care of any shortfall in that department." These last words were spoken through one of Sarah's more salacious smiles.

"And when she's eighteen?"

"We can talk about that nearer the time; besides that's almost three months away and given that your relationships tend to be measured in days or weeks, rather than months, I doubt it'll ever be an issue. Jane could've dumped you by then"

"Or me, her."

"True enough. Look I'm not insisting that you date Jane; even if I could, I wouldn't. But I would consider it as a very special favour if you'd keep her company for a few weeks at least and introduce her to everyone. Please?"

"How could I refuse."

"Very easily; but I'm hoping you won't"

"No I won't; just make damned sure nobody else is aware of this 'favour' especially not Dave and Al."

"Are you sure? They're bound to give you some awful stick about dating Jane"

"I can live with it; better that than risk one of them letting it slip and Jane finding out: that would really screw-up her confidence."

Sarah's smile was huge. "You're taking this seriously; thanks"

And so it began and I'm not sure which of us was the most surprised that our relationship was still going strong in July. Jane was fun to be with and seemed hell bent on catching-up on everything she'd missed out on in the preceding few years; as a result I found myself restraining her enthusiasm more often than having to 'bring her out of herself'. The self/Sarah imposed sex ban probably helped too; I was never pushing so there was no pressure on the relationship in that direction; in fact latterly, Jane was the one who became frustrated by this aspect of our relationship. After constantly hearing stories from her 'friends' about what a 'stud' I was supposed to be and their refusing to believe that we weren't 'doing it'; Jane began asking herself why not? Obviously thinking there was some awful reason why I wasn't trying to hit on her. That took quite a bit of explaining without being able to raise the truth; lots of buzz-words like "special, and respect" seemed to do the trick; along with my becoming more adventurous at fooling around in those areas that were allowed.

It didn't prove quite so easy to curb my own desires as I'd originally anticipated. There was no doubt that my first impressions had been correct; Jane was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous; she also promised to be a very enthusiastic lover given even half-a-chance and most importantly; the plan that I would spend more time in Sarah's bed hadn't come to fruition either. It was hard to justify to Jane why after taking her home at the end of the evening I should drive right past my own house; to stay at the Weir's place instead. More worryingly; Jane was the person who came closest to discovering the secret relationship which Sarah and I had by that time been conducting for over four years. I was forced into outright lies the evening she commented that 'even in a room full of people; you share silent conversations with Sarah' fortunately Jane's interpretation was that in view of the strained relationship I had with my own parents; I'd adopted Sarah as a surrogate mother-figure: I did nothing to correct the misconception.

As Jane's birthday approached; the pressure of anticipation began to rack-up; by now she'd started work and was sharing an office with two older girls who provided some first hand rather than anecdotal reports about dating me and one of them had obviously been quite graphic in her recounting. Jane and I had gone to Manchester for the day; firstly to get her fitted for a new crash helmet which I'd ordered for her; it was to be specially sprayed up to match my own racing colours and afterwards to choose another 'more romantic' gift for her birthday. As we drove down the road I asked "have you thought what you'd like yet" The only restriction I'd placed on her choice being that it couldn't be 'a ring of any kind' I had a personal rule about that and to this day have never bought a ring for any girl.

"Absolutely; I've known exactly what I wanted since last Wednesday"

"Great; I won't have to sell one of my race-bikes to afford it will I?"

"No; it won't cost you anything."

"That sounds like my kind of present; what is it; can we get it today?"

"You have it already; I just want you to give it to me"

"And it is?"

"Its romantic; or at least I think so."

"Fine; but what is it you want."

"It's not a ring."

"We've established what it isn't. Why don't you tell me what it is?"

"It's cheeky; I'm embarrassed to ask you for it."

"Then how am I to get it for you? Look Jane, provided that it's not my new Yamaha race-bike you can have anything I own" I glanced across to see Jane smiling sweetly.

"I've written it down" Jane rummaged in her bag and passed me a folded sheet of paper. Given that we were whizzing along at 60+ mph it probably wasn't the wisest decision she's ever made.

I must've been slow that morning; I'd not picked up on any undercurrent to our conversation at all. Whilst steering with one hand I opened the folded paper with the other. There were just a couple of lines of Jane's neat handwriting which read 'I'd like you to do all the things that you did to Susan Blair with me; especially the special thing with your tongue which she won't describe but says is the best thing ever'

I read it twice: I'd not seen Susan in over a year and I'd no idea that she worked in the same company as Jane; but I remembered exactly what Jane's note referred to: Susan was not what you'd term a 'nice girl' Looking up and across toward Jane again I could see the 'sugar wouldn't melt' smile was still firmly fixed; but the glint in her eye could have been her Aunt Sarah's; it was raunchy. At this point I finally took a quick glance out of the windscreen; how long since I'd last looked I can't say, but we were now on the wrong side of the road and on collision course with a large truck!

My response was to scream "Christ; No!" whilst swerving back to the left, slowing down and pulling into an adjacent lay-by. I took a few seconds to recover my composure; then I looked across to Jane who'd collapsed in a flood of tears. I shrugged off my seat belt and leant across to comfort her and soothingly whispered something like "Hey, calm down: we're alright."

"Are we? It doesn't feel like it from were I'm sitting; you bastard!"

"That's hardly fair; you're the one who distracted me: besides we missed it and nobody's hurt"

"Missed what?" she sniffled

"The truck"

"What truck?"

That threw me "The big fucking red one that almost squashed us!"

"Oh: it's a pity it missed."

This wasn't right; "Jane did you notice the truck?"

"No! I'm not interested in it either"

"Then why are you crying."

"Why do you think?"

"Well, I thought it was because you'd been frightened by the truck; but that's obviously wrong"

"I've said; I didn't see a truck!"

"Well then; why are you upset?"

"Because you don't care about me and you think I'm ugly and you're obviously seeing someone else and you haven't even got the decency to be nice about it and... and... and I don't know: I just hate you!"

Where the fuck had this come from? "Whoa; calm down love; could you try to explain slowly; in words of one syllable then perhaps I'll understand"

"My present; you said it could be anything; I tried to tell you on Thursday and again last night; I just couldn't; I was embarrassed; that's why I wrote it down: You keep saying it's 'because you respect me' and 'we'll talk about it when I'm eighteen' but I don't want 'respecting' anymore. You've done it with Susan Blair and half the other girls in the area: what's wrong with me?"

"There's nothing wrong with you: I've never suggested that there was"

"It doesn't sound like it. I finally pluck up the courage to tell you what I want and how do you answer: 'Christ No!' it's hardly very reassuring is it?




The Nixon Girls Ch. 07



Chapter 7: Camilla

Camilla Hamilton was the third generation of the 'Nixon Girls'. Eldest child and only daughter of Lord and Lady Gorton, she'd been blessed with her father's height and her mother Eve's striking looks. At close to six-feet tall, Camilla was often mistaken for a fashion model and whilst she had sashayed down the catwalk on a couple of occasions, these had been for worthy charitable events; the very idea of entering into that, or indeed any, profession was to Camilla's mind 'frightfully common' and far below the expectations of a Blue-blood like herself. In moments such as these, Camilla chose to ignore her mother's humble background, as nowadays the Lady Evelyn was perhaps the most aristocratic of them all; it was certainly she who'd laid the foundations for Camilla's haughty demeanour.

Camilla had just turned twenty-one, with another year still to complete for her degree in Art History at one of the minor Oxford Colleges; not one of those awful establishments which nowadays demanded quite unrealistic entry qualifications, but one which rather more properly catered to the needs of scholars graduating from the countries more exclusive fee-paying schools. Once completed, Camilla would spend a gap-year, attending many of the world's more exclusive social events and should she fail to secure a suitable husband by the time she'd returned, then Camilla would take a little job in one of London's more upmarket art galleries, until the right chap came along.

Camilla, nor indeed anyone else expected that to take too long, as in addition to the visual attributes that she'd been gifted by her parents: 5' 10" tall, fashionably thin, though with full, pert, 34C breasts which she'd inherited from Evelyn, along with an exquisite bone structure, emerald green eyes and a head of lustrous titian hair which flowed half way down her back, she perhaps resembled a young Julia Roberts; in addition 'Daddy' was a Peer of the Realm and rich as Croesus to boot! There was already a lengthy queue of eligible young men, including a couple of minor Royals, beating a path to the door of Ashwell Hall.

For the moment though, Camilla was rather bored. It was late September and the social whirl of the Summer Season had all but ended; she was now wallowing in a mire of tedium for those few weeks before College re-commenced in early October. Mummy and Daddy were away visiting friends in the Cote D'Azur and whilst Camilla could've joined them, Daddy's friend had become a lecherous old perv around her in recent years; it would have been just too awful to spend three whole weeks with him ogling and touching her at every opportunity. As a result, Camilla was stuck in the rural backwaters of the Wyre Valley, with only her younger brother Charles for company: Actually that's somewhat over-dramatic, since Camilla had spent the last few days in London, staying at the family's permanent suite in the Savoy, whilst visiting friends in London and indulging in a little 'Retail-Therapy'.

It was so much easier for her brother; just turned nineteen, Charles was studying agriculture at Cirencester College, in preparation for when he'd eventually inherit the family estates and Daddy's title. During the holidays, he'd spent his days shadowing Daddy's Estate Manager, Gerald Hindley and at night, he socialised with the locals in the village pub, or down at the Rugby Club. Charles had an easy way with the chaps -- 'The Rugger-Buggers' as Camilla and her mother dubbed them and the local girls quite literally threw themselves at his feet; or to be precise, it was more usually into his bed!

Camilla suspected that these local fillies were perhaps trying to emulate her own mother and snare the next Earl; as prior to marrying her father, Lady Evelyn had simply been a local beauty who worked in the Estate Offices. What those trollops seemed to have singularly failed to learn from her mother's example, was that opening your legs at the drop of a hat, was not the way to succeed! Perhaps not surprisingly, the local girls all envied and so with an equal vengeance, also hated, Camilla: Drop-dead gorgeous, invariably dressed in the latest designer fashions and zooming around in her brand new Mercedes Sports-Car, with money to burn: That was plenty to envy, even before their boyfriends ignored them and instead mooned around Camilla on the few occasion that she deigned to accompanied Charles on his nocturnal ventures.

Camilla didn't socialise regularly with the villagers, but she had chosen to quell her boredom on several occasions in recent weeks, by accompanying Charles on his evening soirees. Actually it was usually quite good fun, the local chaps were always very attentive to her and some of them were quite hunky; though they were all so incredibly naïve. Camilla teased and flirted outrageously with them; one could see from the looks in their eyes that they invariably thought they were on to a sure thing, right up until that very last moment when she would brusquely quash the ardour and return home with Charles, or by taxi if he'd already 'pulled' and departed already.

The yokels might be fun, but the thought of actually going to bed with one was quite abhorrent to Camilla. Whilst the local totty might have overlooked the lesson, Mummy had certainly educated Camilla as to the value of what lay between her legs and she certainly wasn't going to squander it on some Country-Bumpkin. Though Camilla wasn't a virgin; a hunky Austrian Ski Racer had put paid to that last Christmas and a rather suave Italian Windsurfing Instructor had finished her education earlier in the summer. The latter in particular had been a very gratifying experience, but more importantly both men been exceedingly discrete; the Honourable Camilla was to all intents and purposes and most particularly amongst the circle that mattered; still 'pure as the driven snow'.

Camilla looked around as she exited the railway station and was pleased to see that her Mercedes was parked on the forecourt to her right; having been unsure as to which train she'd be returning on, Camilla had called the house on Friday and instructed that it be polished, delivered and parked ready for her to collect whenever she returned. The area was abundantly signposted as being 'Strictly No Parking', but neither the railway staff nor local constabulary would dare to ticket, much less wheel-clamp a car bearing the licence plate 'M5 HCH'; they were all well aware that it belonged to the Earl's daughter. Somewhat paradoxically, Camilla was rather miffed to see a large and rather dirty van was also parked on the apron, just beyond her own sports car and wondered why it hadn't been moved along.

Camilla was frantically juggling her shopping bags and fumbling in her Prada handbag for the keys as she approached the driver's door, but dropped the lot when suddenly distracted by a loud roar as the van's engine was started; she'd not even noticed anyone inside its gloomy interior. As Camilla bent to retrieve the fallen belongings, she heard a scraping sound as the van's side door slid open and a moment later she'd been grabbed around her waist, arms clamped firmly against her body and lifted bodily off her feet. Her assailant swung her around, before quite literally tossing her into the back of the van, where she landed on what turned out to be a rather grubby mattress and was pinned down by a second attacker whilst yet a third jumped out of the door as the first stepped back in behind her and slammed it shut, whilst shouting, "Go, Go, Go!"; the van lurched forward and sped away.

As Camilla's eyes adjusted to the gloom, she took in both the grubby interior and her abductors, though to be honest she didn't learn much; there was the driver and two others: all three were wearing pointed hoods of a bright green fabric and for one quite bizarre moment before the full gravity of her situation sunk in, Camilla pondered if they were perhaps Environmentally Friendly Klu Klux Klansmen? This thought was rudely interrupted when Camilla felt the small stocky one of the two in the back with her; the one who was pinning her down, place his spare hand on her inner thigh and slide it upward beneath her short skirt. Camilla promptly clamped her thighs tightly together and screeched in protest.

The Driver called back over his shoulder, "Are you OK back there?" He'd a coarse Scottish accent.

The Groper responded "No problems Ten, we're just getting comfortable." Camilla noticed that this chap spoke with a local accent.

So did the other one; a veritable giant of a man who was by now sat down, casually leaning against the van's side. "Two's just trying to cop a feel, but as Eight has first dibs on her, he'll get twatted once we arrive if he carries on."

Camilla could hear laughter in the stocky guy's voice when he responded "I'm not fucking her Five, I know the batting order; but there's nobody said I couldn't loosen her up a bit on the way."

At this point, the severity of Camilla's situation hit home and she began to cry and beg the men to release her; offering a financial inducement that whilst massive, she knew here father could and would, happily pay three times over to secure her salvation from this situation.

The Driver, 'Ten'; who was clearly the ringleader showed no sympathy. "Quit your whining you tight-arse bitch, we don't like prissy little cock-teasers around here; Daddy can't buy your way out of this. You're going to get exactly what you deserve, whilst we'll be getting all that you've been promising."

As Camilla's pleading dwindled to a whimper, he addressed his cohorts "Two's got a point though, there's no reason not to move things along, besides, it'll save time when we arrive if you get her stripped off on the way; if you want too cop a feel whilst you're doing it good luck to you, just don't try fucking her, the order for that's been agreed."

Two fell upon her with relish and Five wasn't far behind him; whilst Camilla tried to resist, it was a feeble and futile effort. Her silk Hermes blouse was torn away in seconds and the fastenings on her Stella McCartney skirt didn't last much longer; Camilla had already dropped the matching jacket beside her car when they'd snatched her. As the blouse and skirt came away from Camilla's rangy body, there was a pause of several long seconds whilst the two men simply savoured there prize. It was Five who eventually broke the silent hiatus, "Will you look at that; for fucks sake, I knew she'd be hot but Jesus, this is like a wet dream." Camilla's long slim body was now clearly displayed; the white hold-up stockings and black high-heeled sandals, along with the green lace, bra and skimpy pants -- they matched her eyes perfectly -- framed her figure to perfection.

Ten adjusted the rear view mirror to take in the scene and whistled. "You're not kidding. I'll tell you what, just leave her like that; it wouldn't be fair on the others to rip the rest off her before they've had chance to kop an eye-full."

Camilla was relieved to see that the two men in the back with her both nodded in agreement and ceased their assault; the relief was short-lived however, as Two enquired "I can still feel her up a bit though can't I?"

Ten nodded; his response prompt and definitive, "sure you can, just don't strip off or mess up that pretty underwear before we get there." Two and Five looked across at each other, Camilla just knew that they were grinning beneath their cowls; then each forced a hand roughly inside her Janet Raeger bra and began to rudely grope one of her pert young breasts. A moment later Camilla felt another hand, she couldn't tell whose; forcing its way into her panties, where the fingers began raking crudely through the coarse hair of her pubis: She no longer had enough strength or hope to even try and resist, so lay there compliant and weeping whilst the van continued along its way.

It was perhaps only fifteen minutes more before the van turned off the main road, as despite a substantial drop in speed Camilla could now feel the bumps of what must've been a farm track beneath the wheels; she'd no idea where they were, she'd not even noted what direction they'd turned as they left the railway station. Camilla also noticed that Five and Two were so deeply engrossed in their fondling of her unresisting body that they didn't even seem aware of the change in road surface. Of more concern to Camilla was a rude awareness and indeed self-disgust about the fact that her nipples had stiffened and pussy moistened in response to their uninvited ministrations; she certainly didn't want this, but her body was failing her. She saw that Ten was watching proceedings in the rear view mirror whilst he drove and just knew that he had noticed and was indeed amused at her self-loathing.

The van shuddered to a stop and Ten's instructions were clear "Right lads, put her tits away again and get her inside to the others whilst I stash the van; remember, nothing happens until I get in there!" 

Five opened the door and jumped out, then leaning back inside he effortlessly pulled Camilla out behind him, tossed her over one shoulder and walked away from the van; she saw Two leap out behind them, slamming the van door as it pulled away. Where or what they were heading towards, Camilla had no idea; Two sprinted past and as Five abruptly stopped, Camilla heard what sounded like a large metal door sliding opening, followed by a loud cheer and wondered: My God, how many of them are there? As Camilla was carried inside, Two closed and locked the door behind them, before Five lifted her from his shoulder and gently lowered her onto her own two feet. After taking a deep breath to quell her terror, Camilla slowly turned to face her fate; the movement was greeted with a few moments of absolute silence and then another rousing chorus of cheers and wolf-whistles.

Camilla was standing on the smooth and remarkably clean concrete floor of a small modern and well lit, warehouse or industrial unit; there were perhaps a ten or a dozen men, all in matching green cowls, ranged in a loose group near the centre of the floor. The space was otherwise empty, save for a King-sized divan bed, standing somewhat incongruously and from Camilla's standpoint frighteningly, on the floor amongst them; immediately Camilla saw that bed, any last notion she might've held that this could perhaps be some sort of sick joke disappeared. As the men approached and encircled Camilla, she knew how the prey of a wolf-pack must feel.

When Ten entered the room a few minutes later, he was pleased to see that all was well disciplined and suspected that Eight had probably been marshalling things in his absence. The boys were making good use of Camilla's albeit amateur, catwalk experience; they were in two rough lines with the young girl parading herself and sexy lingerie before them. He was further amused to see that the Lady's good breeding was also showing through. Camilla refused to be subjugated by these men; the tears had been quelled and with her shoulders back and head held high, she looked through rather than at her tormentors as she flounced back and forth between them: She might've been dressed in one of her ball-gowns at a film premiere, rather than half naked in a barn. God but she looked foxy, every muscle of Camilla's lithe body seemed taught and the word 'feline' reverberated around in Ten's mind. Camilla's only imperfection appeared to be a tiny pink birthmark on her ribcage, just beneath her left breast and about the size of a penny; besides serving as a timely reminder to Ten, he felt this one tiny flaw served only to enhance the perfection of the rest of her.

Breaking free from this reverie, Ten announced his arrival by clapping his hands and loudly calling, "OK boys, let's get this show on the road; get the rest of her clothes off and tie her to the bed."

Camilla maintained her inner strength and giving him a withering look replied, "I'm quite capable of undressing myself thank you very much, besides, your gorillas have already proved their inability to care for a ladies clothing." The guys where dumbstruck and whilst they hesitated, Camilla proceeded to coolly disrobe; she might have been alone in her own bedroom.

Whilst outwardly ignoring her watchers, Camilla's stomach was churning and her heart raced; she could hear the men's gasps and comments as each item was removed; the noise level jumped markedly when her firm young breast sprang free and at that moment steeled herself for their massed assault. It didn't materialise and having concluded by stepping out of her skimpy green panties, Camilla drew another deep breath, stood upright and nonchalantly dropped them on the floor. She encompassed all of the men with a cold stare, then raising her arms she leisurely pirouetted before them, after three slow rotations, Camilla fixed her gaze on Ten and enquired, "I trust this is what you expected?" Camilla turned, walked the three strides to the bed and standing proudly, with hands on her naked hips -- it was to stop them shaking if the men had only known it -- she added "So how would you like me?"

The men were transfixed; Camilla's breasts were full and firm, they saw how they'd barely descended when her bra came away and the nipples were bright red, standing rigid and by any standards, simply huge! - Another gift which she'd received unbeknownst from her maternal grandmother. The guys were still recovering from that revelation, when Camilla's pussy had joined the display and it too was simply awesome; luxuriant, but neatly trimmed, in Ten's eyes at least, it resembled a burnished-bronze arrowhead, striking down between her pale slim thighs. Only Ten maintained some vestige of composure, the others being so enraptured that Camilla might well at that moment have simply walked away without opposition; the gang had been totally mesmerized.

Camilla was just beginning to believe that this act of dominant self-possession might actually carry the day, when reality returned with a bang; or to be precise a shout from Ten. "Howay Lads! What the fuck are you playing at? She'll not be so bloody sassy once she's accommodated the first couple of cocks! Now, you're first up Eight, so get on with it! How do you want her?"

They all, including Camilla looked toward the one labelled Eight; he was all of 6' 3" tall and 300 pounds. He in return stared at Camilla, then at Ten and back at the frightened young girl, before slowly stripped off his jeans and tee-shirt; Camilla was now struggling for breath, this man was huge, what would he do to her frail body? Whilst Eight's skivvies coming off confirmed the imminence of her violation, Camilla actually heaved a sigh of relief; it had revealed an erect cock of more average proportions than his physical stature had threatened. Eight still hesitated and Ten enquired again, "Come on, how do you want her?"

"I dunno." Was the mumbled reply

"Oh for Christ's Sake Ja -- careful - Eight, you've had all week to decide!"

"I know and I'd planned all along to spear that prissy little mouth of her's, but now? That pretty red bush just looks choice."

"You know the rules; it's one or the other and if you've not decided in five seconds flat, then Eleven can have his turn whilst you're thinking."

Eight hesitated a moment longer, then decision made he stepped forward and pushed Camilla backwards towards the bed; as the back of her long legs hit its edge, she fell backwards on to it and Eight pressed a hand gently but firmly against her chest to ensure she stayed there. Camilla fought frantically for several seconds, to the amusement of all, but against Eight's superior size and strength it proved a futile effort; when she finally surrendered the unequal struggle, she was exhausted, whilst save for a few scratches to Eight's arm there was no evidence she'd even tried. The big man pressed forward, effortlessly prying Camilla's alabaster thighs apart with one knee, before covering her supine form and forcing his erection into the heart of her fiery bush.