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Sandy Confidential

By: Man4Living



This story is based on a real experience. 

*

To this day I've never understood feminine logic. Perhaps it was unique to those times, the late 70s, before feminism had taken hold, but after the late sixties sexual revolution.

I had graduated and started my first job as a trainee accountant for a large organisation in the Midlands. The male office culture was overtly sexist: blue collar office walls would sport nude or nearly nude calendars, whilst white collar workers would discuss women like sex objects rather than as people. I had been brought up to show respect for women so I found this culture disturbing. 

My first year was miserable. I was an outsider to the prevailing culture. Sure, I went to the pubs with the 'lads', but I was always on the periphery of the conversation. In the office I could not drum up any enthusiasm for participating in office banter -- often about, and in the full hearing of female colleagues. It didn't however stop me noticing these women who were the object of this gossip and repartee. How could I not, they were after all sexy and gorgeous?

There were two ladies in their twenties who were close friends and inseparable at work: Theresa and Sandy. They were often seen together, a sight which attracted its own special ridicule and speculation. They were totally unalike.

Theresa was large -- big boned rather than obese; a tractor girl with chunky, firm thighs. She was not averse to wearing mini skirts and dresses, so that a flash of thigh was guaranteed from time to time, particularly when seated at her desk or in the canteen, or going upstairs. She could be the centre of attention in the pub after work when she had had a little too much to drink, but perhaps for the wrong reasons. 

Sandy rarely went to the pub, and when she did she usually had her boyfriend, Jeff, in tow. She was an altogether different proposition from Theresa. She remained aloof from male banter. She could afford to, she was absolutely gorgeous. She was an out-and-out sweater girl, with a chest which stood out from any crowd. Not particularly top heavy; maybe a 34C, but a magnet for any rutting male's glance as she passed by. As if that wasn't enough, she wore very short skirts, with slightly flared hems so that they didn't ride up to reveal all like Theresa's tight hemlines. They promised divine hips and a small waist. There was just enough sway in her hems to prevent them riding up when she sat down, nor to show too much when she climbed stairs. It was as if she had planned her wardrobe with precision: enough leg to excite without embarrassment.

Every hot blooded male lusted after Sandy, including me. A room would fall quiet when she entered. Heads would follow her every move in the street. She had a round face, natural blonde hair, and a pert, round bottom, which was enhanced by the swaying hem of her short skirt as she passed by. In that first year whenever we passed each other in the corridor, I never made more than the briefest of eye contact. I was too shy and embarrassed - a particular problem I had with beautiful and sexy women.

I came into contact with Theresa regularly in the course of my work, and got to know her quite well. We might go the pub for a lunchtime drink and chat about the world in general. I had grown up and been bossed about by two older sisters, so knew something of the female psyche. Coupled with my sensitive nature, I found I could empathise with women and chat with them more easily than many of my male colleagues. Thus Theresa and I got on well.

That first office Christmas Party was an eye opener for me. The middle of the floor of the largest office in the department was cleared of furniture to the side walls, apparently on the benign indulgence of senior management. An audio system and subdued lighting was installed and alcohol flowed freely as workers danced to the latest pop classics and enduring favourites. Men freely chatted up women in the gloomier shadows, where some impromptu smooching also took place. 

People started to drift away as dusk fell, and Theresa, who had hovered around me for much of the afternoon, said there would be a better party going on upstairs. Eager for a change of scene, I followed her up the grand staircase, mesmerised as her tight purple dress rode up her thighs and exposed shiny purple satin panties. As someone who thought of sex every twelve minutes of every day, any unexpected flash of panties was likely to stimulate my interest.

She thrust me through the door of what transpired to be a photocopier room. The Yale lock of the door pronounced a definite and assertive click behind her. Confused in my inebriated state I looked at my surroundings to make sense of what I saw. Then I turned to seek an explanation, to find Theresa completing the removal of her dress to leave her with just a matching set of purple satin bra and briefs. Her body was big but firm and not an unpleasant sight. She followed up with a twang of her bra clasp and her large and hitherto tightly confined breasts burst out to hang and revel in their freedom. I remember thinking that her nipples were huge and taut.

"Now we're alone," she announced and stood waiting for me to pull her into a clinch, her back firmly planted against the locked door. Her prey was not to be afforded any opportunity to escape.

I would like to say that I gallantly extricated myself from a potentially embarrassing situation in style. In truth, I mumbled, suckled half-heartedly on a proffered nipple, then apologised profusely for being too drunk to do any more. The moments passed like eternity as she sullenly re-dressed herself and left the room without a further word. 

Although we continued to be friends, we avoided any mention of that incident , and she never attempted a pass at me again. Then, in the summer at a leaving do, again in a pub, she had once again drunk too much and become maudlin. Colleagues left us together and drifted off. 

"What is it about me?" she wailed, "I don't seem to have any luck with men. You can tell me, what's wrong with me?"

Of course, I couldn't, and skirted my way artfully around the topic with platitudes like 'You just haven't met the right man yet' and 'they just don't appreciate you.'

"Of course, it's her", she sulked, referring obliquely to Sandy. 

"Everyone adores Sandy." The emphasis on the verb was heavy with sarcasm. "If only they knew what she was really like. You too, you're just the same. I've seen your eyes following her around."

Of course, Theresa would have been jealously ever watchful of her male colleagues' reactions to Sandy.

"Well, she does dress provocatively," I admitted, "but I have no particular interest in Sandy. She seems to want to attract the lustful gaze of every full-blooded male."

"if only they knew," was the morose and cryptic response from Theresa.

~~~

I was informed by my training manager that I would be rotated in September to the Costing Team. In those days, pre desktop PCs and calculators, manual costing of services was an industry in its own right. Theresa worked there, but I had not otherwise come into contact with that team before. She seemed amused by my posting. I presumed it must be a dead end function.

Costing Team proved to be a highly volatile mix of five ageing likely lads and three women, one of whom was PA to the Team Leader, a particularly sadistic and sexist bastard. The other two sat at a block of three desks with me, the accounting trainee. I was ushered to my desk which was at right angles to that of Theresa, and across from me an unoccupied desk. Theresa spent the day taking me through the requirements of the work. Her role seemed to be as a non-qualified administrative officer. It was our first conversation since her last outburst in the pub, and she kept it entirely work-focused.

I knew the men by reputation and observation of their inebriated exploits in the pub. The atmosphere in the office was subdued all day.

Day two, Tuesday, the last to arrive was the occupant of the empty desk opposite me. It was Sandy.

"Hi, we haven't met," said a soft breezy voice. She had arrived silently and was now standing at my side, offering me her hand in greeting. "I'm Sandy."

I stood up, a little flustered. We had not spoken before. We shook hands and she said matter-of-factly, "We will be working together. Theresa, you already know." That last was an indication that she knew of our casual friendship. I had imagined that her voice would belie her visual beauty -- perhaps be squeaky, or a thick regional accent. The voice I heard purred with a gentle sensuality that made my stomach churn with erotic pleasure. This young woman was damn near perfect.

Sandy, like Theresa, was also non-qualified, but tasked with the leading role in showing me the ropes. I was now to spend the next twelve months facing this vision of overt sexual beauty across a desk, only wood separating us. She took over my instruction from Theresa, and I sat and endeavoured not to let my eyes drop to her firm, pouting breasts, resting on her desk, and seeming to have a life of their own as she leaned forward to explain the work programme to me. Theresa interjected from time to time, mostly out of my direct line of sight; but I suspect that she was studying me intently for any signs of the usual lustful intent towards Sandy. I think I acquitted myself well; the only benefit I had gained from many ill-spent hours playing poker.

I noted as the day progressed that the other men had perked up, and a lot of risqué banter flew around the room. I was also aware that Theresa and Sandy were watching me to see whether I would join in. 

I did not.

In fact I was sickened by the atmosphere in that room, and wondered how the ladies coped with it.

Over the coming months Nick, the Team Leader, gave me a hard time because I declined to be one of the boys. Our loathing was mutual.

Theresa, Sandy and I began to spend lunchtimes together. I made it my business to devote equal chat time to each of them to avoid any hint of bias towards Sandy. You may by now be thinking I am making myself out to be a hero. Far from it, I wanted my work experience to proceed as smoothly as possible. I had clearly lost the respect of my male colleagues. I wanted at least to have harmonious working conditions with the females. I found the office atmosphere toxic and depressing.

My second office Christmas party; Sandy again absented herself and Theresa kept her distance from me. At one point I found myself pinned up against a side table by a more than half-drunk Nick, who prodded me painfully in the chest and slurred, "So have you got inside her knickers yet?"

He was my boss so I had to keep my wits about me. I had heard their bragging of feats of bravado with Sandy who, by all their male accounts, was the office bicycle and a nymphomaniac, to boot. I had seen nothing of that side of her. I wondered whether she was merely discreet with the men to whom she was disposed to offer her favours.

"No, I've not even flirted with her."

"You fucking Nancy boy," he spat and staggered away with a parting look of disgust. I could not rise to his bait so I simply left with a heavy heart.

~~~

"I'm getting married," Sandy announced out of the blue. I exchanged glances with Theresa and realised that she of course already knew. I knew Sandy's boyfriend from fleeting conversations at the pub when Sandy had persuaded him to accompany her, I suspect, as her protector. He was six foot, lean and athletic, and damnably handsome. Of course, Sandy would attract the crème de la crème of men.

We were in the office and Sandy had been overheard. She had chosen to tell me in public in order to be overheard. I heard a grunted "best of luck to him; second hand goods!" Sandy's expression showed that she had heard the insult, as was no doubt was intended.

"Congratulations, let's go to the pub to celebrate," I suggested.

"Sorry, I can't," said Theresa, "dental appointment."

So, for the first time, Sandy and I were alone. I took her to an upmarket bar on the far side of the city centre. I knew she didn't want a large group around her, especially not comprising of other men from the office.

Sandy downed two dry white wines in quick successions and began to open up as the alcohol began to take effect. Our conversation flowed. I no longer saw her as an unattainable, unreachable beauty as I once did. Now she was simply a friend. She saw that, and responded by treating me as one. As she began to unload some of her anger at the treatment meted out to her from the office wags, she clasped my hand and looked deep into my eyes as if searching for some inner empathy. We were sitting side by side. She swivelled to face me. Her posture was relaxing and I began to see more clearly the hidden side of Sandy: defenceless, helpless and seemingly very much alone.

As she talked about her uneasy friendship with Theresa, apparently involving a fair measure of jealousy and resentment on Theresa's part, I guessed at her mixed emotions.

"Why do you dress so provocatively then?" I asked. "Theresa can't enjoy it very much."

"I like to be admired. I'm pleased with my looks. I just don't want men to be lecherous."

Her philosophy confused me. Was she a prick teaser?

"What about you and women?" She was fishing. 

I told her about my upbringing. It seemed trite as I spoke but I was determined to as honest as I could.

"And what do you feel about me?"

The very direct question hit me like a punch in the stomach. Of course, I adored her and lusted after her in equal measure. I never thought to have the opportunity to express myself to her honestly. I wasn't about to start now, but the question provoked all kinds of different feelings and sensations. I realised I was in love with Sandy, a sense reinforced by the realisation that her sexuality was far more complex than I had been led to believe by my colleagues. Beneath the teasing, flirtatious but remote exterior was a shy and awkward young woman who could not come to terms with her internal conflicts between her desire to be attractive and her revulsion of laddish behaviour.

I dropped my eyes as my feelings intensified and found myself looking at her parted thighs and exposed panties. She was relaxed and seemed oblivious to her display. I looked up guiltily, and realised that must regard me as the brotherly figure she didn't have; someone she could confide in as a trusted friend. 

~~~

Over the coming weeks we three discussed Sandy's wedding preparations in casual conversation. Theresa was invited. I was not, nor did I expect to have been considered for the guest list.

It was June, and Sandy's wedding drew near. I had my own preoccupations with my looming second year accountancy exams. The office atmosphere had lightened as if male colleagues were now accepting the inevitable loss of their potential prey. Once respectably married, Sandy could no longer be the object of their loutish sport.

Sandy took leave a week before the wedding, to 'prepare' as she put it. Why did it take a week to get ready?

Friday came and at lunchtime my phone rang. It was Sandy, with tremulous voice. I looked around for Theresa, then remembered that she too was absent, for other reasons. 

"I'm scared, can you come round?"

"What is it?"

"I can't speak on the phone but I need to talk to you. Please come."

I excused myself on grounds of study leave and left. I had never been to Sandy's parents' house before. Her mother had just left to get her hair done, Sandy had informed me, and would be gone all afternoon. 

She opened the door in a long towelling dressing gown, but she had obviously washed her hair, which was wispy and flyaway in the gentle breeze through the open front door.

"I needed to talk to you. I'm scared about tomorrow."

"Why me, why not Theresa?"

"She isn't around today, and anyway, I need to talk to a man. To you."

She led me to the sofa in the living room and motioned me to sit next to her. As she spoke she sat with legs curled up under her against the far arm of the sofa. She was simultaneously putting as much physical distance between us, as removing any obstacles to an intimate discussion. She was visibly shaking.

"Do you want a drink? Do you have any in the house?"

She pointed me at a drinks cabinet against the wall behind the sofa. "A large gin and tonic. There's ice in the kitchen"

I decided to join her in a drink. She drank hers very quickly. "Another!"

We hadn't spoken a word whilst I waited on her. Now, with the second, half-drunk G&T in hand, she began. "What do you think of me?"

Immediately, she had put me on the spot. She needed an answer, but I wasn't sure what she wanted to hear. I checked my watch covertly as if rubbing my hands together whilst I thought over her question. One: fifteen, so I had time to pace this conversation. "I think you are a very beautiful and sexy woman. Why, what has Theresa told you?"

The return question had obviously hit home.

"You never seem to notice me. Theresa told me you rejected her advances at Christmas, because you obviously fancy me. But I haven't seen any sign of attraction."

"Why is it so important to you to know how I feel? You are marrying Jeff tomorrow."

"Jeff is a pig. He has been fucking other women, the bastard. I let him date me because other women find him attractive. " 

"Is that important to you?"

"I wanted a boyfriend, but didn't find anyone I really liked. We just sort of got used to each other.

I sometimes think all men are pigs. But you're different. How can I know what normal men think when I work with a bunch of sexist, misogynist pigs. I want to know what a normal man thinks."

"I think you are very attractive, but vulnerable at the same time. You seem to want men to admire you, but you can't cope with their loutish behaviour. I thought you were aloof at first, until I got to know you. Now I think you can't handle the reactions you deliberately provoke in men. Sandy, you are isolating yourself."

She seemed to have shrunk deeper into the corner of the sofa. I had been too frank with her. I shuffled up closer and clasped her hands as she had done mine in the pub, and looked her in the eyes. "Sandy, you are a gorgeous woman but you provoke men in the worst possible way. You bring out their basest instincts. I know you dislike their behaviour, but you want to seek their admiration all the time. You are your own worst enemy."

I expected her to cry but she withdrew her hands and straightened up, changing the subject. "I love Jeff but I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of being the first."

I must have betrayed my utter astonishment at that revelation. Was she still a virgin? I rewound in moments in my mind all the third party comments which had led me to conclude that she must be the best lay in the business. Had everything other men talked about or implied been lies?

"That's why I need to know what you think of me. Am I truly attractive? Am I desirable? Or do I just look like a slut? Tell me the truth!"

That last demand was delivered with the heavy emphasis of an urgent demand for information. She rolled off the sofa onto her knees facing me. She pushed my knees apart and leaned in close to look deeply into my eyes.

"Do you fancy me? Do you get a hard-on when you see me or think of me? Do I excite you?"

My senses were reeling in utter confusion. I had come to comfort her, for her to confide in me, or get whatever succour she could from me. But not to seduce her. Yet as I gazed back into her hazel eyes, felt her hands on my knees, and smelt her soft perfume, my erection began to build. I wanted Sandy more than anything else at that moment. I felt my body tense and my heart pumping.

"But what about Jeff?" I asked lamely.

"Jeff isn't half the man you are. Oh, I'll marry him. But I want my fling before I surrender to him. I want you." Her mood seemed to have changed.


Sandy Confidential Ch. 02



I decided to tell more of my encounter with Sandy. It is a back-to-back romance so it takes time to develop. The previous story sets the background.

~*~*~

I had gone to her parents' house on a whim: a compulsion just to be close once again to the scene of my greatest passion. I had expected Sandy to be long gone; married off and immersed in a new life of married bliss.

But she was there, standing in front of me at her childhood bedroom door, inviting me to enter and repeat our act of passion of six months before. Her mother was downstairs, apparently content with her adult daughter's invitation to an apparent stranger to go upstairs.

There was too much to be explained before I could give rein to my sexual desires once more.

I followed her into her bedroom as bidden, but deliberately left the door ajar behind me. A quick fuck, I didn't want: this was far too important an issue to be reduced to a simple, physical act.

Sandy had confounded me the first time with her simultaneous vulnerability and directness. She was the woman after whom every office male lusted. She had been the butt of ribald humour of jealous men who wanted but couldn't ever have her. Yet, she had dressed provocatively, to enjoy male reactions to her enviable figure, and perhaps brought on herself the frustrated and hurtful taunts of those who desired but could never have her.

"So tell me all."

She stepped backwards with a seductive shrug of her shoulders and the air of a temptress, and ignored my command. She unbuttoned the shoulder of her tight crew neck sweater and lifted it off over her head. The bra beneath was black satin with enough lift to push her breasts together into a seductive cleavage. She lowered her eyes to regard me under hooded brows and dropped her hands to her waistband to unbutton the waist of her tight slacks.

"Please, don't' ... not yet," I pleaded. "This can't be a quick fuck for me. It has to mean more. You mentioned a baby. That's a serious proposition, not something to joke about."

Sandy sighed but continued to unbutton the waist of her slacks. Then she unzipped them and leaned forward to push them down her lean and shapely legs, always keeping eye contact with me. She raised one foot slowly to let the trouser fall from that leg, then slowly, seductively raised the other leg to step out of the slacks heaped at her feet. Whilst I looked on she deliberately folded them and turned to open and hang them in her wardrobe. I watched, fascinated at her round butt, with just a hint of her bottom crack showing above her low slung panties. My six months of deliberate celibacy since our last encounter reared up to mock me as I tried not to undress Sandy's slender, shapely body with my eyes. I couldn't help the erection now painfully constrained by my fashionably tight trousers.

Thankfully, Sandy understood my plea and pulled a dressing gown from its hanger. Once she had put it on it helped - to a point! It was a short, black silk, flower-patterned kimono tied at the waist. Her cleavage showed abundantly from the almost closed up front, and her legs were on display right up to the tops of her thighs. Her black satin panties were only just concealed by its very short hem. She looked gorgeously sexy now, in complete contrast to the respectably dressed figure I had seen in the street. 

Sandy was acquiescing to my request to talk, but not making it easy for me to resist the impulse to tear off her clothes and get physical gratification. And that is what it would be: a physical release of six months' pent up frustration, rather than the expression of love I had felt on the previous - our first - occasion.

I was no longer content with an opportunity for some free sex, and I had been disturbed by Sandy's demeanour during our first physical encounter. She had forced the issue then and appeared to be totally driven by the sex rather than any feelings towards me. I was aware of, and constrained by the vulnerability I had sensed in Sandy even when she was in control. I knew Sandy's marriage to Jeff had failed within four days of her eve-of-wedding seduction of me, the motive for which I still didn't fully understand. I wasn't proud that I had succumbed to her seduction.

I like to be in control in seducing women, rather than being seduced by them. I can read the situation better when I am in control. I could not understand why a woman, by general consent, as desirable as Sandy would look twice at an anonymous man such as I. It had been a shock when she had unexpectedly thrown herself at me. I'm just not that lucky with stunning women, who could have the pick of alpha males like Jeff.

Now, I needed to understand just what had been going on that fateful Friday, and what it might mean for Sandy and me for the future, if anything at all.

Sandy sighed and sank onto her bed, and patted the space beside her to summon me to join her.

"Actually, you can flatter yourself, because you had a great impact on me that first time. I spent the week at home fretting over the wedding. I knew I didn't love Jeff, and he had hurt me deeply by sleeping with other women, just because I wouldn't let him make love to me before the wedding. I thought I could go through with the ceremony because of family expectations and the house we had signed up to buy between us. 

Then I asked you round deliberately on the Friday, and everything changed. You see, you don't see what we women see. That's part of the attraction. We don't all want to live with vain studs who compete with us for attention. A real man is intelligent, interesting, caring, one who can make us feel like a lady. It's a bonus of he's good in bed as well."

"Why the 'us'?"

"Lots of women feel as I do: Theresa; the other girls in the office; my ex-school friends. Well, OK, not everybody. But I don't want to live a sham of a marriage where I never know what my husband is up to. I want a man I can trust, and who will want me for being me."

"Can you trust a man who screws a woman on the eve of her wedding?"

She said nothing; just stared at me.

"And love, what about that?"

She averted her gaze at that and seemed to be thinking. "In time, maybe ..."

There was the nub. I suspected Sandy wasn't capable of love, or maybe not able to express her emotions. That might explain her remote, ice maiden attitude in the office.

"I want more than that. Sandy, you are beautiful and sexy, but I don't know you. How can I love someone whom I don't understand, and who maybe doesn't love me."

She shrugged, and thought that over for a moment, before apparently making up her mind. "So make me love you. Teach me what love is. Later. Now I've been a good girl, for six months, so at least relieve my frustration."

She got up and closed the door, then stood up on the bed beside me. She must have recalled my confession of voyeuristic tendencies, because she undid the belt of her kimono suggestively.

I couldn't resist a repeat performance from her. I had decided to go with the flow again anyway, but I didn't object to a bonus striptease beforehand.

I got up and moved away from the bed and Sandy dropped to her knees and hit the button on the transistor radio on her bedside cabinet. The Radio One DJ was just doing an intro to 'How Deep Is Your Love' and Sandy immediately launched unsteadily into a raunchy dance to the sound of Bee Gees, on the bed.

I stood back to watch her show. At first, her gyrations were unconvincing, whether or not through embarrassment or reluctance I wasn't sure, so I unbuckled my trouser belt and eased my way out of my tight trousers. Sandy approved of that and responded with a more confidently raunchy routine. She had a genuine expression of desire on her face. When I had removed my tie and unbuttoned my shirt, she reciprocated by reaching behind her back for the clasp of her bra, all the time swaying her hips sensuously to the music. She let the straps fall from her shoulders but held the bra cups in place against her breasts as she kept to the gentle disco beat. 

Her eyes never left mine. I realised she was waiting for my next move so I removed my shirt, leaving myself feeling awkward in only my tight briefs and socks. I removed my socks and Sandy rewarded me by dropping her bra cups from her breasts. She jutted them out proudly and stroked her nipples with her fingers whilst she waited for my next move, all the time holding my gaze with a sultry expression.

I studied the fullness of her breasts, which were wonderfully defying gravity. Her light brown aureoles jutted out like twin peaks, capped off with large, erect, cylindrical nipples. I had never noticed them as so prominent under her sweaters, probably now because she was aroused. I was mesmerised by the sight of them. 

Sandy had me in a hypnotic spell and laughed delightedly at my obvious reaction to the sight of her almost naked body. She was toying with me. I squeezed my package trapped in my suddenly far too tight underpants. She began to massage her breasts with one hand whilst rubbing the index finger of her other hand on the mound of her pussy through her black satin hipster panties. I guessed that she could feel the wetness of her juices seeping through the material and was excited by it.

I got rid of my pants. 

"Good boy," she breathed huskily and turned her back to me. She bent down keeping her legs straight, slightly apart, to give me a good view from behind of her pear-shaped pussy between her cheeks. She spread her legs further to let me see the exposed undersides of her breasts between her legs. She sure knew how to show off the full package. She stroked her nipples gently with her left hand whilst the fingers of her right hand pushed their way into her crotch to massage her clit.

The Bee Gees had plumbed the depths of their enquiry into love and the DJ's chattering broke into her performance.

I took my cue to move to the bed. On impulse I grabbed Sandy's hips with my hands, forcing my tongue between her taut butt cheeks in search of her pussy. She withdrew her fingers and bent almost double to steady her body with her hands on the bed.

My tongue found her vaginal opening and pushed its way inside her. She gasped with surprise and spread her legs wider apart to improve its access. I could taste her juices oozing out of her to encourage penetration. I wasn't ready for that yet, so I alternated thrusts of my tongue as deep as it would go inside her, with flicks across her clitoris. She wiggled her hips with pleasure.

I wanted to admire her bottom some more so motioned for her to make room for me to lie on the bed on my back with her on top facing my feet. She immediately sought out my penis with her mouth whilst I lay there admiring a close-up rear view of her pussy lips and clenched ass hole. I was in seventh heaven.

This was probably giving me more pleasure than Sandy so, reluctantly, I eased her onto her back, preparing to mount her 'missionarily'. She held me at bay with an upstretched palm against my chest and reached into the bedside drawer. She brought out the KY jelly.

"I was sore for days after our first fuck. It didn't help on my wedding night," she giggled.

She coated my erect penis with the cold jelly, then moved her fingers onto my balls for more arousing effect.

"You're so serenely beautiful," I confessed.

"What, not slutty and common?" she asked with mockingly raised eyebrows.

I studied her face staring up at me, her skin stretched taut across her high cheek bones. A new tidal wave of emotion swept through me. I was exhilarated and had an impulse to surprise her.

"Yes, you're a fucking whore," I announced as I thrust my stiff penis forcibly through the external folds of her inviting pussy and began to ram it in and out fast. She gasped loudly with the initial shock of this forced entry, and then cried "More, more, harder, harder."

The harder I thrust, the more she seemed to like it. I smacked her bottom whilst thrusting to see how she would react. It had the effect of hastening the build-up of my orgasm so I slowed down my thrusts.

"Yes, yes," she cried, more, more," urging me on.

Her positive reaction to my smacking her bottom reaction had surprised me, and I don't actually enjoy inflicting pain. Nevertheless, I withdrew my cock to avoid prematurely ejaculating and contented myself with admiring her bottom whilst I continued to smack her cheeks. She tensed her back after each slap and demanded yet more. I obliged but not with excessive force. The impacts were enough to make her pale butt cheeks red from my finger marks. Only our second fuck and I was discovering so much about Sandy's proclivities. My earlier sexual experiences had all been confined to groping and the missionary position. But my fantasises had had freer rein.

I resumed my penetration and thrust once more as deep inside her as I could. Almost immediately, she surrendered to a shuddering earthquake in her loins as an almost immediate, intense orgasm charged through her body. "Oh my G**," she cried. 

I couldn't hold back either, and the relief from months of celibacy exploded down my shaft and high up into her belly. I rolled onto my back, exhausted by the impact of my climax.

~*~*~

"I'm sorry, I couldn't prevent myself," I apologised for losing control, when my heavy breathing had started to subside.

Sandy rolled on top of me and leaned up on her hands to study my face. "That was monumental!"

"Not mental?" I teased.

"No, you probably bruised my crutch with your thrust, and I probably won't be able to sit down tomorrow, but it was the most exquisite feeling. My body exploded."

"So, maybe you like the rough stuff?"

"Who knows?"

I pondered the implications of this. Here was this delicate, apparently innocent, beautiful creature, with flawless skin, and a seemingly perfect body. What was she doing, allowing me to fuck her roughly? She hadn't responded well to her husband's violence, but would she enjoy consensual rough sex? Even if she would, could I?

~*~*~

We talked for a long time, lying naked, side by side under the blankets. Sandy had been traumatised about her honeymoon and the realisation that her marriage was not going to work from the outset. She had resigned her job as much out of shame as out of a desire to escape from the toxic atmosphere in the office. She had started her own business doing the accounts for small businesses such as hairdressing salons, health shops, etc, wherever she felt safe, and well away from testosterone-filled environments. She had also obtained some freelance modelling assignments for a clothing catalogue.

I didn't need to fill her in on events in the office because Theresa had kept her informed. My friendship with Theresa had been rocky for a while after Sandy let slip to her at the wedding that she had seen me the day before. Theresa blamed me for destroying the marriage and had warned Sandy off seeing me again.

Sandy hadn't dated anyone since, and had apparently led a sheltered existence to the extent that her parents had become concerned about her mental state. She had told her mother about me; a difficult tale to tell given the events the night before her wedding. Her mother had been supportive because she hadn't liked Jeff. Her father had not taken it so well because he had donated her share of the deposit for the house. Anyway, he deemed nobody good enough for his daughter.

I had to know how she avoided sex when she was so clearly highly sexed.

"Partly my dildo and a vivid imagination," she replied with a smile. "Also, I'm very suspicious of men. You are only the second man I've let inside my precious pussy. One of my best kept secrets. I feel I can trust you, which is very rare."

We dressed and went down stairs to introduce me properly to her mother, June. She said how pleased she was that Sandy was dating again. I didn't mention that we hadn't arranged this encounter.

"You'd better go before Pappa gets home," June advised. "He doesn't see such things too clearly. I'll see you to the door." A cryptic comment which I made a mental note to check out with Sandy some other time.

Her mother and I left the lounge, leaving Sandy curled up on the couch.

"I'm worried about her" whispered June with a quick glance back to the lounge door. "She needs a good man to draw herself out of her shell. Are you a good man?" she asked rhetorically, gripping my shoulders again, and looking searchingly into my eyes.

~*~*~

I saw little of Sandy for the next few weeks. My father had fallen ill, then died suddenly from a stroke. My mother took it badly, and was showing signs of being unable to cope, despite only being in her late fifties. I decided to move back down south to be near her. That left lots of unresolved issues with Sandy, but I felt my mother needed me more for now.

I would have preferred a quiet departure from the job but Theresa had decided otherwise. She organised a surprise leaving do in the function room of a local pub. It coincided with the fortieth birthday of another colleague and it became a joint 'do'.

So I found myself surrounded by friends, hangers-on, and some of my more toxic adversaries who were buddies with my co-celebrant. The increasingly rowdy crowd had sung happy birthday to the other fellow, and now Theresa was waiting for the right moment for the leaving presentation to me. I dreaded it and the prospect of making a speech. The noise of the crowd was increasing as more pints and shorts were downed. Taped music played over a sound system but was mostly drowned out by the noise.

Then Nick loomed into view to square up to me; my old boss and adversary. Much the worse for too many pints of bitter, he seemed determined to give me his idea of an appropriate send-off. "I didn't come to see you off," he slurred, "but since I'm here anyway, I'd just like to say fuck off back down south, nancy boy. No hard feelings but good riddance"

Not much to misunderstand there then.

I had drunk very little alcohol so was in full possession of my faculties. I should have backed off but to do so would be to admit defeat to nauseous Nick. I stood my ground, uncertain what to do. Nick squared up to invite retaliation, with a silly leer on his face. Some wag began to chant "fight, fight" and drew other peoples' attention to this flare up. I was now the unwelcome centre of attention. I gently but firmly pushed Nick away. Already unsteady on his feet he fell as if pole axed. 

A circle rapidly formed around us. I remember standing calmly over the dazed and spread-eagled form of my erstwhile tormentor. That should have been the end of it but one of Nick's buddies misread the situation and stepped in forcibly to push me away from Nick's prone form. Another pair of hands from behind me propelled me forward again. The mood was jocular rather than menacing. Onlookers probably saw it as a bit of fun, and two rival factions jostled each other, with mock aggression. The noise level increased and I looked around for a means of retreat. Suddenly, the circle parted to make a path for a senior manager, accompanied by Theresa, anxiously clutching several wrapped leaving gifts for the presentation which she placed in the arms of a bystander.

"I think we've all had a bit too much to drink," the manager admonished as the noise subsided, "so I think it's time to remember why we're here: to say goodbye to our esteemed colleague, Derek, who is off to pastures new. Can someone help Nick up; he seems to have fallen over."

Nick sat upright on the floor but didn't attempt to get up. Whether he felt cool sitting there or simply too drunk to stand wasn't clear. The group didn't close around him so he sat a little distance away facing the senior manager and me.

The manager pulled out a folded sheet of paper and proceeded to recite whimsically a potted history of my 'whirlwind' impact on the organisation, equally heavily laden with impossibly fictional achievements and allusions to the battle of the sexes in the office. He mused that it was often difficult to see whose side I had often been on. His well-judged wit made the speech a great success and there was much hilarity at the manager's performance.




Sandy Confidential Ch. 02



"And now, an honoured guest will make the presentation," he announced as he stood aside. Theresa had gone off quietly during the speech and now returned with the guest in tow, to the first strains of the Grease song 'You're the One That I Want' coming through the PA system. I heard the first wolf whistles before I saw anything. The throng parted to make way for Theresa and the surprise guest. Accompanying Theresa was Sandy, who had apparently been shopping, to knockout effect.

There was an excited buzz all around the room as people caught sight of Sandy in what could only be described as an homage to the character of the same name in Grease, which was at that time breaking box office records in cinemas all across the country.

Dressed from neck to toe in a tight, black, soft leather catsuit, finished off with leather gloves and fuck-me black patent leather stiletto heels, she sashayed into the centre of the throng. Gone was the ice maiden image. This girl now simply portrayed sex on a stick. She had been to the hairdressers to have highlights streaked through her blonde hair. She wore mascara to emphasise her large blue eyes, and shiny red lipstick to add an extra pout to her generous lips. The whole effect was set off by long, dangly gold earrings. The buzz turned to gasps as the onlookers took in the sexy effect of her outfit. Spotlights in the ceiling emphasised the shiny material of her outfit and accentuated her curves.

She advanced confidently into the centre of the circle and made her way ... towards the still squatting Nick. As John Travolta's voice cried 'electrifying', she raised her right toe and gently pushed against Nick's chest to persuade him to drop down onto his back once more. She straddled him and shook her booty and shimmied, the spot lights reflecting dazzlingly off her shiny, leather-clad body. He lay there smiling up at her from his advantageous position, but she turned her back and stuck her ass out at him, not intended as an enticement but as a cheeky insult. Pausing momentarily for effect, she turned her eyes on me and advanced towards me. Putting a gloved finger to my chin to close my gaping mouth she fell into step with the music of "You're the One That I Want" and encouraged me to join her After a momentary collection of my wits, I got into the swing and picked up the rhythm of the song. I am not the best of dancers, but who was looking at me anyway? Sandy had everyone in her thrall as she danced seductively to the music, swinging her hips and milking every ounce of drama from this situation.

None of them had seen her like this before – vivacious, cheerful, saucy, and the life and soul of a party. She had the whole room eating out of her hand. The tune finished. We, the 'odd couple', stood to receive the warm applause for that show-stopping performance. The truth was that Sandy could have recited the Oxford English Dictionary to similar acclaim in that outfit.

The manager called everyone to attention, to compose themselves for the presentation. Theresa had choreographed the whole sequence of events and it was proceeding with choreographed precision. She retrieved the pile of presents and passed them to the manager to hand one by one on to Sandy to present to me. Anyone who didn't know the context to Sandy and her experience with office lecherers might have wondered what was going on but this audience knew all too well that something extraordinary was going down. The office beauty had departed in mysterious circumstances leaving behind the legend of an ice queen, only to re-appear months later as a vamp in this oddest of contexts.

Awkwardly, I unwrapped the gifts and laughed with everyone at the jokes at my expense from the presents. I was prematurely balding so an unlikely Lothario on the face of it. A 'Derek Wilson Do-It-Yourself-Repair kit' of mop-head, scissors and glue brought the house down with hysterical laughter. So it went on, as each new present added further affectionate insult to what little image and reputation I retained. It was meant in good humour and I took it as such.

Sandy's eyes were flashing with excitement. She offered me the final gift. This was a box wrapped in shiny black paper with a pink ribbon. I ripped off the paper and surveyed a large white box with a pull-off lid. I eased off the lid. As the box opened a helium-filled foil balloon in the shape of a pink heart emerged to float upwards on the end of a gold foil ribbon, securely stuck to the inside base of the box.

For all to hear, Sandy spoke carefully with feeling as she said "I love you and accept your proposal of marriage - just as soon as my divorce comes through."

A feather could have fallen crashing thunderously to that wooden ballroom floor; such was the stunned silence that greeted that statement. Only Theresa had any inkling of just what sort of relationship had been building between Sandy and me. To everyone else in the room Sandy was the unattainable beauty who had only ever been seen before socially in the company of the handsome Jeff; certainly not connected in any way with the modest, unprepossessing and all too gentlemanly Derek.

Theresa skittled off to get the background music restored. The evening resumed, with people crowding round us to find out what this was all about. I was as bemused as everyone else because we hadn't discussed marriage, nor even engagement. Sandy had well and truly nailed me, in public, with her unexpected announcement. Her implied conceit that we had already discussed it made it impossible for me to deny it without embarrassing her.

Nick lurched his way through the cordon to face us. The surrounding throng held their breath for fear of another challenge. He wavered unsteadily on his feet then thrust out his hand to me. "Put it there kid, you fucking jammy bugger!" People laughed with relief. Then he turned and faced Sandy. Before she could react he leant her backwards theatrically in his arms and planted a lengthy kiss on her automatically puckered lips. He restored her to her feet before I could react, and Sandy stood there with a stunned look on her face. With a soppy grin Nick lurched away through the throng. 

Always leave on a high!

"I'd better take you home," I volunteered. Lots of departing handshakes and congratulations later, we were outside in the evening rush hour looking for a taxi.

As we settled into the back seat of a black cab I asked "What was all that about? We haven't discussed any of this."

"I'm sorry," Sandy apologised. "It was the heat of the moment. I couldn't stay here now, with you gone. I'll go with you, if you'll have me. Her serious face melted into a smile as she added, "and I can feel how much you like me," as she grasped my crotch with her hand.

"I like the costume."

"I was doing a photo spread yesterday, dressed in this outfit. I asked to borrow it for today in lieu of a fee. Was it worth it?"

~*~*~

Sandy couldn't let her father see her dressed so provocatively so we went back to my apartment. She had got dressed in her catsuit, with Theresa's help, in the pub toilet. Her clothes were in a carrier bag.

My apartment was on the top floor of a four storey block facing another apartment block across some landscaped grounds.

As we waited for the lift, and with my arms filled with presents, Sandy leaned against the wall beside the lift and slowly unzipped her leather jacket, from her neck right down to her crotch. It fell open to show her naked front beneath, exposed all the way down to the top of her trimmed pubic hair. The lift doors opened and a middle-aged couple stepped out. The man's head turned to stare at the spectacle of Sandy's erotic display as they stepped out of the lift. I groaned. It was just as well I was leaving. At the same time I was very excited at this demonstration of a very sexily playful side to Sandy's nature. 

She stood aside to invite me to enter the lift first, then pushed the suit off her left shoulder to expose her left breast before turning to follow me into the lift. The couple stood gawping as the lift doors closed.

"It's just as well you are moving out," was all she said.

"Could you reach into my trouser pocket for my key, please?" I asked. My hands were full with my presents.

My view was obscured by my parcels. I felt Sandy place a hand on one of my hips, then felt her unzipping my flies. I was powerless to prevent her pulling out my cock which instantly sprang erect upon its liberation. Even had I been empty handed, I would not have been able to stuff it back into my tight trousers. I groaned as the door opened at my floor and just hoped. I needn't have bothered. This time it was a young couple standing there, my near neighbours. I wondered what they made of the sight of an attractive woman in a tight leather catsuit, unzipped and with one b breast exposed, accompanied by their neighbour with his penis sticking out of his trousers. Sandy was enjoying this. Once again she had surprised me and I found myself going with the flow.

Once inside my apartment, I put down my packages and zipped up Sandy's catsuit again.

"Why?" she asked, pouting..

"I want to do this properly." I guided her to the lounge and onto the sofa, then went to freshen up. I came back naked and pulled her by her arms off the sofa and onto the rug. I thrilled at the sensation of my naked flesh as I rubbed my naked body all over Sandy's curvaceous one, tightly constrained within the soft leather catsuit. Sandy rolled around on the rug, moaning at the feel of my hands all over her body. We spent some time enjoying our respective sensations. Finally, I pulled her to her feet and guided her to the sliding glass door which gave access to a balcony with iron railings. I slid open the door and guided Sandy onto the balcony to stand at the railings facing the apartment block opposite. 

I was leaving the apartment that weekend and no longer cared what my neighbours thought of me. The sun was low in the sky above the roof of the apartments opposite. It bathed the balcony with the warm spring glow of the setting sun. I hoped we would have an audience. I was naked, standing behind Sandy.

Sandy guessed at my intentions, even seemed to be excited by the prospect. Slowly but deliberately, with Sandy facing the anonymous windows opposite, I reached around to her front and unzipped the catsuit again. She shimmied up and down, rubbing her leather-clad bottom against my erect penis as I slipped my right hand into the open catsuit and squeezed her left breast. Her body movements indicated that she liked that. I repeated the gesture with my other hand on her right breast. A watcher could perfectly see the bulge of my hands groping her breasts beneath the shiny leather material. At that point I saw a torch flash from a window opposite which was in shadow from the setting sun. There was no one to be seen in the darkened room, but I was sure someone was signalling to us that they were watching; encouraging us to continue?

Sandy had seen it too and giggled.

Encouraged, I pulled the catsuit away from Sandy's shoulders and off her arms. I pushed the body of the suit down to her hips. Our concealed voyeur could now enjoy the view of Sandy's exposed breasts and torso as I stood behind her and squeezed the nipples alternately with one hand whilst rubbing the fingers of my other hand down her belly to her pubic hair. It was time to complete her exposure, offering our unseen voyeur the sight I most enjoyed, her pert bottom. I turned her round to face me and gently eased the tight catsuit pants down over her hips and down her legs. I bent down to remove her stiletto heels. She raised one foot then the other, to step out of the leather garment.

I wanted her bottom and legs to be displayed to their best advantage so I put her stilettos back on her feet before straightening up and pressing my naked body once more against hers. This time we were both naked, but for her fuck-me stilettos.

She was facing me with her back to our unseen audience. My hands traced their way down her shoulder blades and spine until they rested on her hips. I pushed one hand between her butt cheeks, searching for her pussy from the rear. My forefinger first found her closed anal sphincter. Her butt cheeks tensed. We were neither of us ready to explore that particular opening. Instead, I pushed my penis between her slightly parted thighs to rub my erect shaft aback and forwards against her pubic mound. Our watcher would have to be using binoculars to get a proper look at that manoeuvre.

Sandy was gasping now with her readiness for some full-on action. I turned her once more to face her audience and motioned her to lean her hands on the railing, bending forward at the hips. I entered her drenched pussy opening from behind with ease and began to pump her, forcing her body back and forwards as she braced herself against the railing. I could just glimpse her breasts from one side, quivering gently in rhythm with my thrusts. I wished I could have been in the block opposite with a pair of binoculars to enjoy the beautiful, sexy sight of Sandy being fucked from the rear.

Sandy abandoned herself into her welling orgasm and sang out as her climax took hold. One could hear it echoing off the distant walls opposite.

I had concentred so much on stage managing this performance that I had not yet come myself. I turned Sandy to face me and motioned her to kneel. I had no idea how she would react to what I was about to do. She looked at my throbbing penis and guessed what I was proposing. She sank willingly onto her knees and offered her face up to me, wide-eyed in anticipation.

I stood and looked momentarily at her naked body kneeling in front of me. I admired her beautiful, rounded breasts. I thought of what our probable audience was seeing. The thoughts aroused me all the more. Finally, I grasped my penis with my right hand and pumped deliberately, masturbating my shaft until I could feel my sperm preparing for a massed ejaculation. My gasps came loudly and rapidly as I felt their warmth surging down along my shaft. Sandy gasped at the sound of my panting and parted her lips. I aimed the sperm into her mouth, not stopping to consider whether or not she would want it. Not only did she accept it, but she opened her mouth wider to suck on my cock until it had completely drained of my juices. I hoped the side-on view presented to any watchers would have been intensely erotic and arousing. I wondered whether any other sperm was being spilled elsewhere as a result.

My love for Sandy was intensifying with each new physical encounter, but I fretted that our relationship might be all about sex, neglecting any attention to emotional development and attachments. I needed to discuss this with her, but not now, not after such an intense experience. 

I was also surprised at how I had pushed the boundaries way beyond my past, conventional sexual encounters – and with Sandy's compliance. I wasn't sure I wanted to push them any further in case it ultimately destroyed our relationship.

~*~*~

As we lay side by side in post-coital bliss, I raised the subject of our supposed engagement. Sandy confessed that it had been the result of a rush of blood to the brain, triggered by her excitement at re-enacting the Sandy Olsson funfair dance routine. "That catsuit touches me in all the right places and it's so damned erotic to wear. I shan't want to hand it back"

"And being entirely shallow, I love you just because you dared to wear it, and are so fucking sexy in it. But it's not leap year so I should ask you to marry me. I insist however that you should first love me." It was part question, part plea.

She took my comment seriously. "In time, Darling." Developing real affection for me was not to be a foregone conclusion. We were going to have to work at that. 

As she reflected on her last remark, a frown clouded her face, and she said, "But we have a more immediate problem. I'm pregnant"

~*~*~

I welcome any constructive feedback. There is more to tell if anyone is interested.



Sandy Confidential Ch. 03



She is spirited away whilst the world of nude starlets and models distracts him

I had found myself in a glorious relationship with a gorgeous young woman who shouldn't have looked twice at me. More than that, she had just told me that she was pregnant, with our child. Slap me about the face with a wet fish and call me the luckiest bastard alive, but this was not good news. We were on the cusp of the Eighties, but attitudes to extra-marital sex were still traditional. The swinging sixties and sexy seventies were confined to a few liberated people and celebrities.

Sandy was the unattainable dream woman whom every man I had met lusted after. Yet she seemed to be put off by macho men and Adonises, and to prefer quiet, gentle men -- like me. I could have said intelligent, educated, but I don't want to boast.

I had no doubt that Sandy was telling the truth, but I had to ask how. She did not react well to that.

"Men and women make love, and babies happen."

"Didn't you have protection?"

"Fuck you, you bastard!"

Sandy wasn't given to such language so I had to assume she was upset. She wasn't finished with her tirade either. "I haven't been near a man in six months, so I was hardly likely to be taking precautions. You caught me off guard. You had your way with me, what do you propose to do?"

I paused to think. Now was not the time to say what immediately came into my head. Of course, I was crazy about Sandy, and would have done anything to please her and keep her, but my brain counselled caution. Here was this beautiful, sexy creature, who could have just about any man she wanted. She had chosen to shut herself off from men for six months, then re-appear in my life with a gesture which defied explanation -- unless she really cared for me. I had no doubt her pregnancy was intentional. Yet, a little voice deep inside me suggested that Sandy couldn't love anyone, and would only hurt me.

"Sandy, I adore you, and I would not hurt you for all the world, but is this what you want just now? We have only recently go together again after a six months' break, I was still getting to know her again. Our whirlwind romance seemed unreal and incapable of lasting. Sandy's psyche was simply too brittle to sustain a long-term relationship. And now this ...

~*~*~*~

I left for London and a new job with a national media organisation. I was a backroom manager, working in Finance, but in a senior position, so I was expected to do my bit at media bashes, of which there were many. My single status was a problem because I was expected to do my share of entertaining media types, stars and their partners, which was a problem as a single man.

So when Sandy announced she had got found work in London and wanted to move in with me, I was delighted. All of my recent doubts were put to the back of my mind, as the prospect of resuming my relationship with my dream woman dwarfed all other thoughts and doubts.

Sandy loved my apartment. It was quite large, in an anonymous suburb of north London, but with views south to the famous landmarks like Big Ben and St Pauls. She said her father would be bringing her clothes the following day. I missed a breath. I had not met her father, who was a shadowy, domineering figure in her life.

He and I faced each other across a seventies coffee table, glaring. I was on my home territory but he was attempting to dominate me. "Take care of my daughter, you hear?" was all he said in a menacing tone before Sandy ushered him out of the fapartment.

I was staggered at her mound of clothes, and had nowhere to put them. Sandy finally told me that she had been modelling much more than she had admitted, often inheriting the clothes she modelled instead of fees. I noted the proliferation of skimpy bikinis, along with the miniskirts, see-through blouses, leather skirts and trousers, and leather boots. Her wardrobe seemed kinkier than I would have imagined. Now she was seizing the opportunity to launch herself on the London modelling scene.

Modelling in those days was very different from today. There were very few famous names. Even fewer who had control of their careers. Most wannabees were owned by agencies as chattels, to be warehoused and controlled, even chaperoned

I could attend receptions and entertain now with confidence with Sandy on my arm. The first event in her company was a reception in the broadcaster's expansive media centre to launch a new autumn season of television dramas. I had seen the line-up, but the guest list at the reception seemed to bear very little resemblance to the actors and producers in the programmes. What we were introduced to were the London glitterati of the time. Famous faces, B-list celebrities, and famous names whose faces I had not previously known.

Sandy had chosen to wear an outrageously short miniskirt with knee high boots and a loose, silky top that showed off the outline of her unfettered breasts. Such clothing was already dated by then in London, but it looked fabulous on Sandy and she garnered much attention.

After the round of introductions, we soon got parted, and I chatted to several starlets, for want of any more meaningful purpose to my presence at this shindig. Each time I looked, Sandy was chatting to yet another unbearably handsome and charming man. Jealousy was building within me. I inched my way towards her, muttering pleasantries at complete strangers as I edged closer to her. I had just disengaged from an absolute bore of a film mogul, when I saw Sandy pulled into the embrace of a heavily tanned and outrageously dressed popinjay. I hastily stepped up to rescue her as he seized her waist and unashamedly patted her bottom in proprietorial fashion. His patting succeeded in lifting what miniscule hem she had on her skirt to expose her butt cheeks. Fortunately she was wearing white panties. The sight was unexpected and mesmerising.

"This is my girlfriend," I announced gauchely, as I stepped in to rescue her.

Sandy held me at bay with a palm on my chest as she announced that he was Ashley Brightwell, a distinguished photographer, who had asked to shoot a portfolio of pictures of her. "Of course, I accepted, with pleasure," she said, with emphasis.

Ashley Brightwell turned to me, beaming and said, "Isn't she absolutely gorgeous. You are a lucky man, now let us talk business," that last addressed to Sandy. I was dismissed, as he steered her off into the crowd by the elbow.

"Don't fret, he's as gay as a sunshade," said a voice behind me. A colleague had witnessed the vignette and was restraining my arm. "If your girl wants to be a model, he will make her famous."

~*~*~

Sandy came home two days later. Ashley had spirited her away to a hotel where he had taken copious photographs of her 'til late before releasing her into the arms of what he called a chaperone. She had spent the night in a west-end hotel and signed a contract the following morning. "One of the conditions is that I go with Shelley to stay in a house in Highgate," she explained. They take very great care of their models --their 'assets' as Ashley calls us. You won't see me for a while, but I will be in touch, I promise."

"What about the baby?"

She simply smiled, and said, "There's a car waiting for me."

I looked out of the widow to the street, where a Daimler was indeed parked. "He can wait," I said, turning to her and grabbing her around the waist. I kissed her passionately and she yielded her body to me instantly. She was still wearing the outfit from the reception. I wrenched the top apart with my bare hands and her breasts fell out. She had put on some weight in recent months which made her body even more shapely and desirable and had made her tits bigger. The thought crossed my mind that she had the assets to be a successful glamour model. She certainly wasn't a Twiggy. For the moment, though, I was driven only by lust. I fumbled for the zip of her miniskirt, and she reached behind her to help me out. I yanked it down across her hips. She wasn't wearing her panties this time. I remember thinking 'I wonder whether anyone followed her upstairs?'

I left the kinky knee high boots on her. They were heightening my desire. I pushed Sandy down on her back on the dining table and lifted her legs and pulled them apart to suck on her pussy. She was moist and aroused. Her musky smell heightened my arousal and I licked and sucked furiously between her bucking hips. The doorbell rang. In reaction I lifted her bodily off the table and dragged her to the window to look down into the street. If the chauffeur was looking up at the apartment window he would see her palms flat against the window, and her tits jiggling as I bent her naked body forward and splayed her legs. My cock sank gratefully between her ass cheeks into her sex, and thrust her body back and forwards as I pumped her unceremoniously until my rapid orgasm had subsided and I had emptied my spunk into her compliant body. I neither knew nor cared whether or not she had cum. I didn't even consider how she would react to this forced sex.

Without a word she headed for the bedroom and came back buttoning up a blouse. On went the bandage that served for a skirt, and she was gone, pantyless once more. "I'll send someone for my clothes," were her parting words. I smiled as I imagined my cum seeping out all over the leather rear seat of the Daimler.

~*~*~

Over the next few months I saw her face on billboards, in magazines and in clothing catalogues; not as a top-line model, but she seemed to confront me everywhere. She didn't contact me. I was alone in London, and I had never felt quite so isolated. The bosses were not too keen on my bachelor existence either, and hinted that I needed a partner, to socialise with.

Somehow, I couldn't face looking for a replacement for Sandy. Other women just didn't look half so attractive or desirable.

A colleague, Tim, made it his main task in life to find me a new companion. "I'm taking my wife to a new club in Hertfordshire. Why don't you come along? Black tie for the gentlemen. I'll find you a partner. I promise you she'll be drop dead gorgeous. You won't be disappointed."

Tim was true to his word. I was introduced to Kayleigh at his north London house. He was right. Kayleigh was tanned, leggy and blonde, with an impressive bust. Tim introduced her as the next big thing in music. She was a model and member of a new girl band, about to burst onto the music scene. They weren't to last because their music never matched their looks. We drove to the party in Tim's Jaguar, with Kayleigh in the back with me and his wife in front. We had polished off a bottle of champagne before we left the house, and Kayleigh was obviously in an up-beat mood. "Kiss me," she demanded, and as I leant in to oblige her, I felt her hand slip onto my crotch. "Oh, so there is life in you after all," she exclaimed, giggling. Encouraged, I slipped my hand inside her coat, but her hand stopped me. "Tut, tut, I'm not that kind of girl."

A prick teaser?

The venue turned out to be a Victorian mansion in its own extensive grounds. It had turned dark when we arrived, and the driveway was lit with naked gas torches flaring in the autumnal sky. This was to be an upmarket party. There were many cars parked out the front, most of which were the latest expensive models. We were ushered into a large entrance hall which was being used as a reception area. There were many people standing around, chatting, drinks in hand. The men were all in black tie but I noted that many of the ladies seemed to be quite scantily dressed. They stood out against their partners. An attendant took Kayleigh's coat off her shoulders. To my surprise, she was now wearing a gold lame tasselled mini-dress underneath, which had a low-cut top displaying an eye-catching cleavage I had not previously noticed. She must have changed quickly before we left Tim's house. The thin strips of gold hung from her waist and fell away from the front of her thighs to reveal a great deal of shapely leg. She laughed at my open-mouthed amazement and gave me a twirl. The tassels swished as she turned, to expose her naked butt cheeks. She was without panties.

"Enjoy it," came a voice in my left ear. I turned. Tim winked and drifted off into the throng. He hadn't warned me what kind of party this would be.

"A drink, sir," came another voice to my right. I turned to see a beautiful young lady holding a tray with an assortment of wines and spirits. I could not concentrate on the drinks, though, because all she wore above the proffered tray was a bowtie around her neck. Her beautifully sculpted breasts and large nipples offered more promise than the drinks. I declined and as she turned away, I saw that she wore only a black rosette on a low-slung ribbon at her hips, and high heels. The bow covered her pubic area, but somehow made the sight of her all the more erotic. As I looked around me I saw more naked waitresses circulating, then a similarly unclad, athletic-looking male, except that the rosette was tied around his penis, as if signifying him a prize-winning exhibit.

Kayleigh returned to grab my arm. "I want to go into the playroom," she announced, "so you will have to accompany your escort. You won't be allowed in alone" She led me through some double doors into an unlit lobby, with two rooms off it. One with opened double doors off the lobby was a huge function room, which I guessed in the heyday of the house would have been the ballroom. Now it had a pool with soft underwater lighting in its centre, and cushions scattered on the floor around the room. I could not help noticing in the gloom that people were either naked or in scanty, erotic costumes, wandering around or lounging on the cushions. A few women were dancing or gyrating to small circles of onlookers. "Through here," she said guiding me through the other door. This opened into a large unisex changing room with two tiers of grey lockers all around the walls. There were several couples undressing as we entered.

"Choose a locker," she said, as she found herself an open locker against one wall, and let her tassel dress fall to the floor. It was all she had worn and she was instantly naked. She turned to me with a raised eyebrow as I stood open-mouthed admiring her seemingly perfect body. Several other men also turned to check her out to the annoyance of their partners.

Sheepishly, I quickly removed my clothes and stowed them neatly in an adjacent locker. As I bent to remove my socks I felt warm soft skin against my butt. I turned. It was another man doing the same. We had touched butt to butt. In my embarrassment, I turned back quickly to study Kayleigh's body, to take my mind off the shock of rubbing up against another man's butt. She didn't seem to mind my staring since we would soon be wandering around totally naked in the playroom. Any embarrassment I might initially have felt about being naked dissipated as other people undressed around me.

Kayleigh had very pert, upright breasts, with a natural cleavage, small areolae and prominent nipples. Her skin was evenly tanned, and her genuinely blonde pubic hair was neatly trimmed, to expose the front of her pussy lips which were glimpsed unashamedly between her legs. Shaven pussies were not yet in fashion at that time. My cock sprung to instant attention. "Come, stud," she commanded and grabbed it in one fist, pulling me back the way we had come into the playroom.

She decoded my general air of bemusement. "So Tim didn't tell you, huh? Well, I'm not here to give you a good time, but just to get you into the joint -- no single males allowed. There are plenty of lovely ladies who will be happy to oblige you, so happy hunting." With that, she headed for a large, muscular man lying on a mound of cushions with a well-padded mature brunette. Kayleigh leant down to kiss him a brief peck on the lips then turned to kiss his lady companion more animatedly. As she turned her back to the man he buried his face between her butt cheeks. She wiggled her ass in response. Some hallo kiss!

I wandered dazedly little sound level in the room was subdued. I heard a gentle buzz of low voices, muted sighs and the occasional quiet laughter. As my eyes grew more accustomed to the low light, mostly from the pool area, I took more interest in the activities around me. One group of two men and a woman made me pause to watch. She was on her knees sucking one man on his back as the other penetrated her from behind. Voyeurism appeared to be accepted, and apparently encouraged by some groups. As I lingered, I felt a hand slip between my legs from behind to stroke my balls. I turned to find a buxom lady, probably mid-forties smiling up at me. She appeared to have broken off from her companion to fondle me. I turned and bent down to kiss her before moving on.

A tall, firm-bodied brunette was standing slightly apart from the bodies around her, near to a wall. She was executing graceful body shapes, as if displaying herself. If an exhibitionist she probably wasn't gaining as much attention as she may have wanted. She eyed me as a potential audience and turned to face me as I approached. I stepped closer, intending to speak to her, but she dropped athletically to spring onto a handstand with her well-sculpted back to me. With remarkable body control, she smoothly opened her legs. I stared at her taut bottom and her invitingly parted crotch. I guessed she was posing for me. I moved around to her front and placed my hands carefully on her hips to avoid unbalancing her. She kept her balance whilst I leant down to gently lick her upturned pussy. Then I bent to encourage her to drop her thighs. She did do and I straightened up with her draped upside down hanging by her thighs from my shoulders. I had impulsively induced her into this position yet did not know now what to do next. This was a new position to me so I pondered what to do next. She took the initiative and gripped the fronts of my thighs to steady herself whilst finding my erect cock with her welcoming mouth. Her pussy and puckered ass hole were offered to my face so I obligingly sucked on her engorged clitoris, and thrust my tongue as deep as it would go into her pussy. Somehow I lowered myself to one knee then down onto my back whilst she continued sucking my cock almost without interruption. We enjoyed each other's sex in soixante-neuf position, all this without a word of introduction or comment.

My face began to tire so I trialled a finger or two in her cunt, then eased my forefinger moistened with her juices into her puckered ass hole whilst I pressed my thumb towards it against her vaginal wall. The heel of my thumb pressed down on her swollen clit. Far from objecting to this dual intrusion, she wiggled her bottom and thrust back against my thumb and finger to urge me to pump her ass and pussy. All at once, I felt her body shudder. I removed my digits from her orifices and she responded by grinding her crotch into my face. Her juices trickled into my mouth and down my chin. Then her movements subsided. She promptly rolled off me, took a few moments to compose herself, stood up, turned, kissed me on the mouth, than wandered away. I watched her beautiful bottom as she left in search of another encounter.

She hadn't let me cream her. My cock was now rock hard, but I was uncertain how to deal with it. I did not want to have sex with a complete stranger anyway. I set off to wander again.

The sight of a particularly well-endowed woman riding a man reverse cowboy style, her breasts bouncing wildly as she pumped up and down on his shaft, heightened my arousal all the more. I felt the need to get out of this room and relieve myself in private, but as I headed towards the changing room, I saw Kayleigh dropping down between the legs of another woman. I went to watch, fascinated by the sight of my supposed escort's upturned rump as she sucked on her female companion. Her rounded butt looked simply too inviting to ignore.




Sandy Confidential Ch. 03



Unable to restrain myself any longer, I knelt down behind Kayleigh, stroked her bottom, then leant in to lick her crotch. She paused briefly to turn and check me out, paused momentarily, seemed to shrug, then resumed her eating of her companion's cunt. Her vagina was dripping with juices, like an open invitation, so I positioned my cock and pushed it tentatively inside her. She was as tight as a virgin, and she quickly turned her head again to stare at me once more. I thought she was about to pull her butt away from my engaged cock but, after a short pause she turned back to her ministrations of her companion. I took it as permission to thrust my shaft deeper inside her, and was rewarded by the squeeze of her vaginal walls. My thrusting in and out of her perfect cavity, pushed her face repeatedly against her partner's clit, with the desired effect of quickly bringing her companion to a noisy climax. I followed with a quieter climax to avoid attracting undue attention, but felt my hot sperm shooting satisfyingly down my shaft. Selfishly, I had made no attempt to hold back, but Kayleigh's bottom responded by thrusting urgently against my hips as she, too, climaxed. She lay with her head on her lover's pubic mound whilst my now flaccid penis slowly shrank then fell from her warm coital embrace and I sat back on my haunches, temporarily exhausted.

Kayleigh turned and kissed me deeply on the lips, forcing her tongue inside my mouth. Instinctively, I scooped her relaxed body up in my arms and picked my step carefully around a myriad of naked forms to carry her to the Jacuzzi pool. The bubbling water seemed to revive us both and she turned to lie against my chest and kiss me deeply once more. She put her mouth to my ear and whispered loudly, "That wasn't meant to happen. That was my first ever cock. Don't make a habit of it"

"Why did you let me?"

"Ashley told me to look after you and there were no dildos handy!."

I now realised that she must be one of Ashley Brightwell's stable of models. For a gay man, he had good taste in women. Tim told me later that Kayleigh was lesbian. I felt privileged.

~*~*~

A new decade emerged into an uncertain world. 1980 dawned and Iran and Zimbabwe were making the wrong sort of headlines. My private life was just as destabilised. I had dated a succession of ladies, but mostly for one night only and usually without any pay-off. I was getting depressed.

The fashion photographer, Ashley Brightwell, was now making his name as a fashion and girlie magazine publisher and rapidly amassing a fortune. I wouldn't count him as a friend, but our paths often crossed on social occasions. He was developing a reputation for throwing wild parties, and being seen in the company of beautiful and sexy women.

"You're Pisces," he remarked one evening in early February. "Why don't I throw you a party for your birthday? My treat!"

I smiled faintly and forgot about it, but a few weeks later an invitation came through the post. He had kept his word and I was invited to his mansion in Berkshire to celebrate my birthday. 'Escort not required' stated the card, both knowingly and cryptically.

The house was modern, large and impressive, again in large grounds. It was early March by now, but the festivities would all have to be held inside.

For the first half hour or so people stood around and chatted as waiters, respectably clad, passed around serving drinks and nibbles from gilt trays. Then people began to peel off in couples or threesomes and head for other rooms or up the stairs. I noted many male couples, which was not surprising given Ashley's proclivity. I was introduced around, but was unable to explain to enquirers the apparently singular honour Ashley had bestowed on me.

A large drawing room was given over to a disco. I danced with several ladies, who showed enthusiasm for getting to know me better and let me roam my hands where I wanted, but I was not really getting into the swing. I felt empty inside.

Ashley approached beaming, with Kayleigh in tow. She wore a short sequinned dress which hung deliciously from her curves. "I have a special performance lined up for a few select guests." he whispered at me as he pointed the way to a set of tall double doors with two attendants on guard. "Come along with me." I let my hand drop to Kayleigh's bottom but she politely pushed it away.

We followed Ashley through the doors into an inner corridor, plushly carpeted, with individually lit paintings on each wall. A door opened at the end and we were ushered into a large, square room with a high vaulted ceiling. There were windows on the far side with heavy velvet drapes shutting out all light. The walls were decorated with deep red flock wallpaper with an elaborate and obviously expensive design. Three tiered rows of two-person cinema type seats were arranged around three sides of a raised stage. The first row had two seats, the second three and the third four, so that each set of occupants would have an unrestricted view of the stage. There was a very complex lighting rig, of movie studio quality.

The room was filling up. Kayleigh peeled off with another woman to the rear stalls and I stared longingly at her retreating form. Ashley led me to an empty row of seats at the front and indicated me to take one double. He took the other double seat beside mine. I was clearly the guest of honour.

I had been drinking gin and tonics, and a large glass tumbler with ice and lemon now appeared at my side, suspended in a neck ring for drinks glasses positioned between the seats.

The lighting slowly melted away into darkness. Then faint fluorescent lights came on, catching motes of dust in the air. Soft, rhythmic drumbeats began. Curtains across a doorway to the left of the stage rustled and I felt a warm draught across my face. Two brightly glowing shapes appeared at the side of the room as if from nowhere, hovering about three feet off the ground. I couldn't make them out at first. They were bright yellow, red and green and appeared to float ethereally in the air. Then I saw that they were disembodied yellow penises with jagged red flashes painted along the shafts, with their scrotal sacks dangling behind them painted in green and yellow swirls. Ashley giggled gleefully at the sight.

Two thick yellow poles floating about five feet off the ground followed, decorated with red, yellow and green patterns, held up by two similarly coloured disembodied hands. The poles lengthened as they cut through the darkness. Then I could make out a multi-coloured platform resting on top of the parallel poles. Two further painted groins followed floating below the rear end of the poles, which had two further hands holding up the rear. The disembodied penises presented an ethereally homoerotic sight.

This strange tableau floated up the steps onto the stage and turned through 180 degrees to face the audience. Two more forms appeared. These were colourfully painted naked females, their hair flecked with glitter, and their breasts painted with concentric fluorescent rings in contrasting colours. Their breasts were large and rounded and bounced hypnotically as the nude forms approached the stage. They mounted the steps and stopped either side of the two leading disembodied cocks. The darkness appeared to recede from around the floating genitalia to reveal two nude male forms painted in swirls of colour which glowed fluorescently. The nude females must have uncloaked the bodies. The drumbeat grew louder now, and my heart pounded in anticipation of what might happen next.

The female forms moved back to the two floating penises to the rear of the floating platform, to uncover two more nude male bodies. The males were all tall, muscular and magnificent, well suited to the task of bearers - but of what?

The females returned to the front of the stage, turned their backs to the audience and bent at the hips to accentuate their butts. With their legs slightly apart and arched backs, they audaciously displayed bright yellow splashes of colour between their ass cheeks, with dark holes and slits for their pussies and arses. Their hands competed for attention with this irresistible sight as they wafted purposefully through the darkness towards the cocks of the front bearers. They wiggled their bottoms seductively as they grasped the cocks in their glowing fists. The cocks stiffened at the touch, and grew larger as the females gently stroked up and down the shafts. The male chests and torsos heaved with arousal.

The platform rocked almost imperceptibly as if the bearers were being disturbed by the gentle hand jobs on their cocks. But it had been a movement on the platform still resting on the poles on the bearers' shoulders. A new, brighter light grew in intensity to compete with the fluorescent beams. The new light shone onto the dark platform. As if by magic, the dark void fell away to reveal a golden, shining female form with a mane of golden hair and an intricately wrought, interwoven face mask. The impact of this sudden appearance could be felt rippling around the room. There were many admiring gasps and whispered voices at the sight of this divine, erotic form. The curves of the female attendants could not compare with the divinely arousing shape of the golden goddess.

With the big reveal of the golden goddess completed, the bearers slowly, carefully lowered the platform to the stage, then stretched out on their backs with their heads to the platform and their feet towards the audience. Two more female forms emerged from the curtains. A shapely, fluorescently glowing nude now stood sentry at the feet of each bearer. The females began a seductive dance to the beat of the music, but my eyes were torn between their display and the dazzling vision of the golden goddess who stood proud and supreme, slowly stroking her curves with her glowing hands.

Now she began her own erotic dance, at first slowly gyrating, then with sharp arm thrusts and foot stamping motions to accentuate her captivatingly bouncy breasts, which seemed to take on a life of their own. All the while the five females kept up a rhythmic chant as a soundtrack of wailing voices in hidden speakers added to the atmosphere of eroticism.

Ashley leaned in and pointed at the golden goddess. He whispered, "She is called the ice maiden because of her cold beauty and refrain from sex. Is her body not beautiful and desirable?"

Ice maiden she may have been, but she was unutterably desirable nevertheless, and making me very hot under my collar.

The four female attendants had begun to masturbate the glowing painted cocks to even greater erections. I watched this servicing of the engorged cocks with fascination until I noticed the golden female form moving in my direction, down the front steps from the stage. She glided sinuously towards me, stopped immediately in front of me and raised her right leg to rest it on my left shoulder. The movement brought her groin in close to my face and she thrust her hips back and forwards to offer her glisteningly golden pussy lips for my inspection as the music, drumbeats and chanting reached a crescendo. The reflected light off her shining groin almost blinded me.

Whilst this had been going on the lady attendants had mounted the male bearers cowboy style, and were riding them to noisy orgasms which were being picked up somewhere by microphones. This choreographed orgy to music assaulted all of the senses.

The music, drums and chanting died away to signal a change in the tempo. Now two of the ladies stood up and glided seductively down to stand either side of my golden goddess. She withdrew her leg from my shoulder. All three nudes stood in front of me whilst the men ceremoniously removed the platform from the stage. A new sound began, very quietly at first, then building gradually a dissonant chorus of voices singing harmonically as in the Ligeti piece used in 2001: A Space Odyssey. The effect in the prevailing darkness but for these glowing and fluorescent naked forms was eerie and compelling.

The goddess stepped backwards towards the stage beckoning me to follow. The nude attendants escorted me, on either side. They undressed me as the golden temptress gyrated in front of me in slow motion to the dissonant choir. I was pressed to lie on my back. The two other attendants now reappeared and began to apply glistening oil to my cock so that it was picked out by the main spotlight. It stiffened and pointed upwards imploringly at the golden goddess.

As the golden goddess stood with a leg either side of my waist, and opened her legs to descend towards my cock, the music reached a crescendo and the main spotlight began to strobe. The rapidly flickering light bouncing off the goddess's body made the tableau somehow feel unreal, dreamlike. Yet it was far from a dream once those golden loins parted to swallow my cock. I fought to delay the sudden onset of an orgasm whilst I relished the gloriously erotic sight above me of my golden goddess energetically fucking me. Two attendants sat on their haunches either side of her to support her elbows as she bucked her torso back and forwards and pumped up and down on my shaft. All I could see was millisecond flashes of golden skin as she writhed and jerked on my penis, violating it with her tight pussy as if she were wrestling it. I could hold back no longer. A massive orgasm exploded up my shaft and I gasped out loud as I felt my cum spurt up high inside my unknown lover. I heard her above the dissonant music, shouting her own orgasm exultantly, then a long loud moan as she slowed her thrusting movements to a now gentle up and downwards thrust, milking the last of my cum. Then she was sated and she lay back on my legs, allowing my limp cock to slip out of her spunk-filled pussy. I hadn't enjoyed sex like that since Sandy.

Members of the audience gathered around us on stage to explore the glistening forms of the other performers. Men and women shed their clothes and drifted around as vague shapes in their unpainted bodies. Performers and audience members merged into shadows and flashes of colour washing over each other. As the music faded, the performance descended into a general orgy.

I got onto my knees and stared at the body of my sexy, golden assailant. Her body seemed familiar. Then suddenly I realised that it was Sandy. "Hello lover," she almost sighed, breathily.

Ashley bent over me, also naked and smiling in the gloom. "It seems you have the capacity to melt our ice maiden. And make my prize asset Kayleigh bisexual!" It seemed I had no secrets from this man.

~*~*~

Sandy led me by the hand out through the curtains into a smaller corridor lit by a dim red light, then into a bedroom, furnished as a dressing room.

We faced each other, naked and satiated.

"Sandy," I started to say, but she put a finger to my lips.

"I'm sorry I walked out on you, but Ashley gave me no choice if I was to get the chance to model. I missed you though, and never gave into temptation. You are the only one."

"And the baby?"

"I couldn't keep it of course. I wasn't ready and it would have stalled my career. I regret it now. For a moment, her face clouded then cleared again. "I have done well but I will never be a top model. I know that now. Advertising and clothing catalogues are about my limit. Ashley has done his best to further my career. You are his present to me as much as I was a birthday present to you."

"Have you done glamour work?" I wanted to say porn, but desisted.

"Lots of photo shoots, but body work only, for nude shots. I have even been a body double in a film. Ashley has been like a father to me. He looks after me."

"Yet he allowed you to be the entertainment tonight?"

"Your friend Tim told him it was your birthday, and Ashley told me. I think he felt guilty that we had been separated. I suggested the 'party', and organised everything in the theatre room.

"Including having your naked body painted by who -- a stranger?"

"A make-up artist from that body double film. A female, as it happens, but I wouldn't have been embarrassed if a man had done it. My body is good and I don't mind showing it off to an appreciative audience. It must have something to do with that evening last year on your balcony. My exhibitionism is really all your fault. The other performers were painted by professional artists hired by Ashley. Mine was a simple gold paint job."

She continued, "Ashley has big plans for me but says I don't need to be chaperoned any longer -- provided I live with you ... if you'll have me back?"

After a pause for my reaction, she asked hesitantly, "well?"

I said nothing, just kissed her, and sighed as she grasped my limp cock in her hand. Her grip on my extremity felt good, and it sent a thrill through my body. I gazed at her glistening, golden, shining body heaving as she breathed heavily, and I loved it, and her, utterly.

Her look held a hint of yet more smouldering desire. "Now lover, you must help me remove every bit of this gold paint; and I mean from absolutely everywhere."

My prick twitched back into life.

~*~*~

I write for pleasure but your comments would be welcomed.



Sandy Confidential



She stood up and she let her dressing gown fall open. She smiled as she shrugged it off her shoulders to fall at her feet behind her. She was naked and utterly desirable. She stood tall with her legs slightly apart, her hands on her hips, almost defying me to refuse her. 

"I know you fancy me."

"Buit what about Jeff?" I forced the question out of my suddenly parched mouth, barely able to form the words.

"This isn't about him," she smiled, "this is about me taking control of my life." She was no longer the forelorn, withdrawn woman. She had transformed into a confident temptress. She leaned down and reached for my flies zip. I was thoroughly confused. None of this made sense. Random thoughts flashed round in my head, colliding in confusion. I let her open my trousers and reach in to release my prick, and I decided to throw caution to the winds. I would savour this unique moment with this delightful creature.

Pulling on my penis she coaxed me to my feet and led me upstairs, without releasing her grip. I followed happily, taking my close first look at her naked, rounded bottom and slim, shapely legs as she led the way. She released her grip and headed for her bedroom. I excused myself and sought out the bathroom to freshen up. My boy scout instincts told me to be prepared for any eventuality.

I entered her room carrying most of my clothes. She smiled at the sight of my bare legs below my shirt and tie. The curtains were closed. Soft music was playing in the background and she had lit some tea light candles. 

"Show me what a real man you are," she commanded. I let her remove my tie then my shirt. She ran her fingers down my chest hairs, then grasped my penis in one hand and cupped my balls with the other. Then she looked down with surprise at my throbbing member in her hands. "My, you are big, you sly boy."

I kissed Sandy and my senses swam at the heady scent of her body. I felt her hands on the back of my head pulling me down into a deep kiss.

I didn't think to prepare against the side effects of taking her virginity, and lifted her bodily and carried her to the bed. I felt the coolness of the satin bedspread cover on my knees as I laid Sandy gently down on her back. I leant down to suck her nipples and gently pull them with my closed lips up into erect mountains of arousal. Her pert breasts pointed up at me as I explored their firm roundedness with my hands. Bit by bit my lips kissed their way down her chest and navel until I had reached her trimmed mound of blonde pubes.

I pulled her legs apart and studied her pussy for a moment then looked into her eyes. She was smiling at me invitingly. I dropped my face to her pussy and began to explore her clitoris with my tongue. She began to writhe and moan as I my tongue made contact. Her clit expanded to command more of my attention.

After several glorious minutes of exploring her body with eyes, hands and tongue, I prepared to penetrate her with my engorged prick. Suddenly she gently cried "Stop. No one has been further than that before. I want to prepare for you big boy." This felt so unreal.

I sat back on my haunches, my penis throbbing with anticipation as she rolled onto her side and reached into a bedside drawer. She rolled back onto her back with a dildo in one hand and KY jelly in the other.

"You thought I couldn't be a virgin. Well this is the only lover whose gone all the way before, so technically, I guess I'm still a virgin. But you will need this because I think it's still going to hurt."

With that she applied the jelly to my prick. I was afraid I might lose self control before I could give her full satisfaction. She was only making it worse with her evident enjoyment at stroking my huge penis. "Is that your first?" I enquired, meaning contact with a live penis.

"Not at all," she laughed." With that she looked up into my eyes and lay back spreading her legs, inviting me in.

As I positioned my penis to penetrate her, I forced myself to concentrate on two simultaneous issues: bringing Sandy to a full and glorious orgasm, and a rapid revision of my accountancy studies, to delay my own. I was determined not to ejaculate prematurely and spoil this precious moment for Sandy, so I sought distraction.

She was very tight and she gasped as I gently penetrated her. "Quite different from mouldy old plastic," she giggled.

"Concentrate, this is no laughing matter," I smiled as I gently scolded her. Her vaginal muscles felt tight and taut, applying a very pleasant pressure on my penis. I supported my upper torso on my hands and studied her face and body as I gently pushed deeper and deeper inside her. I marvelled at the perfection of the naked body and the fact that this delectable creature was letting me deflower her.

I slowly eased my member deep to its hilt up inside that gorgeous body, then began rhythmically to stroke her inner walls and stimulate her g-spot. I watched fascinated as she quickly began to build towards her first climax, and slowed down my thrusts to lengthen the pleasure of her experience. She fixed me with her searching gaze as she felt her body responding to this new type of stimulation. For the first time, I could accept that she had indeed been a virgin.

She gripped my arms as her sensations increased. Her beautiful face contorted and reddened with her concentration on the rising tremors in her belly and loins. She began to force her pelvis more urgently onto the shaft of my penis to encourage me to increase my thrusts. Then a new level of sensation gripped me for the first time, swarming into my mind and expelling all thoughts of bank reconciliation, suspense accounts and double entry.

This was not my first sexual experience with a woman but it was building with a new, deeper intensity. My whole pelvic region was tingling as I found I could no longer hold back on my own orgasm. Sandy was already gasping her way through the aftershock of her climax as I felt the warmth of my semen shooting down the length of my penis. Immediately Sandy's body stiffened as she reacted to this new sensation. Her groans morphed into a chuckle of pleasure as she felt the hot sperm coursing its way up through her abdomen.

Too late I thought of protection. The horse had bolted, the train had shot out of the tunnel, and the mortar gun had shot off its lethal load.

My exertion had exhausted me temporarily and I slumped for a moment with my full weight on Sandy's delicate frame. I felt her lying under me breathing heavily. Propping myself back up on my arms I saw her eyes darting wildly to and fro as she mentally relived the moment of her climax. "That was awesome," she declared. (Not the mundane meaning assigned by young people today, but a reflection of the original, deeper meaning of that beautiful adjective.)

I had hoped to continue my thrusts but the novelty and utterly pleasurability of this experience with Sandy had robbed me of my energy. I was temporarily spent.

I rolled onto my back and Sandy leapt on top of me, eyes flashing with pleasure. "I had imagined this moment so many times with my dildo, but I never imagined it could be like that." 

"I hate to ask, but when will your mother be back?"I asked nonchalantly, whilst apprehension gripped me internally.

"Oh, I booked an appointment for her to be pampered by an upmarket and very expensive salon in Birmingham. She promised to call me before she got on the train to come home. We're quite safe."

"So you planned all this?"

"Of course, and now I am going to get married tomorrow."

"And if we hadn't made love?" The inappropriate use of that word jarred but I hadn't had time to think of an acceptable alternative.

"Then I would have called the wedding off."

"Why was it so important to you?"

"Because Jeff has cheated on me many times. He even told me about one of his conquests in great detail when I pressed him. He thought it would arouse me enough to let him fuck me. He's a very sexy man, but a bit stupid. I wanted to know what a real man felt like."

"I'm not a patch on him. He's an Aryan, a stud. I'm just, well, ordinary."

She sat up astride me and reverentially lifted my limp penis into her hands. "It's what's inside that counts. Anyway, how do you know how he performs?"

"I just assumed. How can you marry him now?"

"I have no choice. We've bought a house together. I'm committed. I wouldn't want to let my family down, and anyway, I think I can bear to live with Jeff. But I shall be measuring him against my own personal benchmark."

With that she began to pull gently on my penis. When she felt a flicker of life in it she dropped her head to suck on it. It was my first penile contact with a woman's mouth and a pleasurable surprise, but apparently not hers. 

"Do you think you can remind me what a real man feels like, just once more?" she asked playfully.

I was unsure. "I'm really a voyeur," I confessed, leaving the rest of the sentence unspoken.

She smiled and knelt up straight so that I could have a good view of her breasts. She began to knead them with her hands, groaning with the pleasure. "Oooh they feel so sensitive." She continued to give me a commentary on her arousal as she tweaked her nipples, then stood up and straddled me. Leaving one hand massaging a breast, she spread her legs wide and rubbed her clitoris suggestively with the other.

"This is the bit I'm good at. I know what turns a man on."

She was right on that score.

Before long I felt myself stiffening up again. I was beguiled by the sight of this lovely creature whom I had admired covertly from afar, then been thrown together with in unusual circumstances. I was overwhelmed with desire and affection for this intriguing young woman who until lunchtime had seemed unattainable. Yet now she had thrown herself at me in a most emphatic fashion. It was madness. She was to be married tomorrow, but for the moment she was mine.

What seemed the more appalling was not that she was allowing me to fuck her now, but that she was still prepared to go through with a sham marriage tomorrow. She clearly could not love this Jeff. Yet, she was trapped by the mortgage and by family expectations.

I snapped back to the present as I felt Sandy's mouth swallowing my penis. I gently pulled away from her mouth and moved to push her onto her back again, but she resisted. "I want it doggy style," she announced, and positioned herself on all fours with her bottom facing me.

"You didn't practise that with a dildo!"

"No, but I read that it's the most intense position to experience an orgasm."

"Are we going to go through all the myriad positions in the Kama Sutra? Do we have enough time?"

She chuckled then said, "Just fuck me."

If I had any reservations about maintaining an erection again so soon, it was dispelled by the sight of Sandy's wiggling bottom cheeks begging to be breached. I was surprised how much more easily my prick slid into her pussy this time. As I thrust rhythmically in and out, she pushed her bottom back in time with my forward thrusts, so that the sensation became more intense for both of us. I stared down at the roundness of her cheeks, in awe of their erotic allure. The sight accelerated my second climax and this time we came together. 

"I can feel it shooting up inside me," she exclaimed. 

I was now a spent force. "No, don't stop," she urged, and I realised that her orgasm was continuing. Her body quivered around my shrinking penis and I could feel her vaginal muscles clamping my penis inside her. When she finally relaxed her muscles it shrank and fell out of its own accord. She flopped down onto her tummy and sighed with pleasure.

"You have no idea just how good that felt," she declared.

I could not summon up the energy to reply.

The phone rang and Sandy sat up quickly to take the call. "No, Mamma, I feel so much better now. When will you be home?" She finished the call and replaced the receiver.

"I should go," I suggested.

"What a pity it has to end here."

I didn't wish her well for the wedding.

~~~

Theresa told me all about the big day on the following Monday. Sandy had looked gorgeous, of course. Theresa had caught her bouquet at the reception. Then she enquired whether Sandy had contacted me before the wedding. She didn't explain the reason for the question, and I lied in reply.

A week later we learnt that Sandy had resigned and would not be returning to work. Apparently she was going to be a full-time housewife. Now that the object of their ribald humour was gone, the other men became much more subdued. For that at least I was grateful.

I got through my exams, rotated to another office, and cut the next Christmas party, preferring to do some last minute Christmas shopping instead. I saw a figure I thought I recognised boarding a bus to the suburb where Sandy's parents lived. The woman couldn't be Sandy -- far too conservatively dressed -- but the sight triggered an irrational urge to revisit that house. I hailed a taxi and gave the address. I had no idea what I would do when I got there.

The driver deposited me outside the house and I stood there forlornly, wondering why I had come. I turned to leave and saw theconservatively dressed figure again, coming along the road in my direction. Could it be?

The lady's footsteps faltered as she approached and saw me. She removed her spectacles, and Sandy was there looking astonished at me, outside her parents' house. She slowly resumed her walk until she had reached me. She stood there, saying nothing, staring fixedly at me.

I hadn't noticed that light rain had begun to fall. She brushed it off the shoulders of my office suit.

"So, Mr Wilson, we meet again. I didn't think I would see you again. What brings you here?"

"An impulse, I suppose. I thought I saw you boarding a bus and ... well, here I am."

"You'd better come in."

As we entered the house an older woman emerged from the lounge. "Is this him?" she asked cryptically.

"Yes," said Sandy.

Her mother looked me up and down appraisingly for several moments, then came up to me and patted me on the outside of my upper arms as if we had known each other for years. "You'd better go upstairs and talk," was all she said before going back into the lounge.

Sandy took off her coat and shoes and led me upstairs. I noted her flared trousers; the only concession to her former exhibitionism was their tight fit across her waist and bottom.

"Jeff and I lasted all of three days. The honeymoon was a torment. Trapped in paradise with a man I didn't want to be with."

"I'm sorry if I ruined things for you."

She laughed, but without feeling. "Don't flatter yourself, Derek. We were doomed from the start. He preferred violent sex and I had a black eye after the first night."

"Did he think you would enjoy that?"

"It wasn't the sex. He expected me to do whatever he wanted. He hit me when I refused him. He thinks he's God's gift to women. Well, I showed him that he is not omnipotent."

"The house?"

"Sold. We lost most of the deposit."

"What now?"

"Let's make love. Then we can talk."

"Talk about what?"

"About a baby!"

"You're pregnant?"

"No, but I want yours."