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Dirty Susan

By: geronimo_appleby



Well, this one started out as a short, intense Loving Wives piece. But it got away from me and here we are in Group Sex.

Susan likes to watch people having sex. She enjoys being involved in the action, too. She seduces her friend, Stephanie – and it goes on from there.

I've thrown in some fetish stuff – nothing too heavy: Daddy issues, impregnation. Just for the grin.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the piece. Feedback would be good, as ever; and appreciated.

GA – Thirsk, North Yorkshire – 20th September 2013

Prologue

Susan loved to watch, adored seeing people in the act, and if she didn't have the real thing, then porn was a decent substitute.

The image burst into life, huge on the 72-inch television mounted on its bracket opposite her bed as Susan settled on the bed with all she needed for an hour of self-indulgence beside her.

Ignoring the toys for the moment, Susan breathed a long sigh of satisfaction, engrossed by the opening scenes of the DVD.

Her tastes were quite specific: Susan favoured group scenes including real people, normal everyday folk she might see in the supermarket as opposed to the enhanced women or buff men who featured in mainstream porn. For Susan it was the straightforward honesty of reality pornography that was key. She could climax in a heartbeat, just come and come as she watched ordinary people, people with jobs and a mortgage and children, indulge their sexual desires. She loved the uncontrived nature of the films she watched, adored seeing couples and groups in real-life when she frequented the swinger and fetish clubs.

These days, with the advent of the internet and a plethora of 'real people' keen to upload their encounters, Susan was overwhelmed with choice. It had taken her a little time to find herself a source of quality filth, but she had time, money and contacts, all the resources she needed to ensure a supply of the good stuff.

And the effort, in her opinion, was worth it.

Susan enjoyed the honesty, the uncontrived feel of unprofessional pornography. There was a raw element to it that triggered some deep-rooted response within her. She had never appreciated the massive volume of fuzzy suburban crap she'd encountered in the past, Susan expected a degree of quality, and these days, praise the gods, she had it.

Susan had just collected a genuinely superb clip, an hour's worth of undiluted pleasure.

What she saw was a group situation, two couples – genuine couples she was assured by her provider – involved in a partner swap.

As she warmed up, just eased into a rhythm, Susan was absorbed by the interaction between the participants. She enjoyed the initial awkwardness, the opening banter between a couple in their mid-twenties and a more mature and obviously more experienced couple who were approaching middle-age.

There were the usual greetings, handshakes and air kisses as the group members took stock of one another. This preamble to the fucking was essential to Susan's enjoyment, stoking the fire of her anticipation. She would zip through some of the sex that followed in the knowledge that she could always revisit the DVD at her leisure, but watching the initial contact, seeing who was nervous and who was eager, set the tone for what was to come. Every time she witnessed the beginning of a liaison Susan experienced the thrill of it as though she was there herself, in the thick of it all.

The introductions were made, drinks were poured, and as always someone had to take control. In this case it was the older woman who took the lead. She stood up and, with a knowing smirk, confident of her own sexual allure, slipped out of her dress. The young couple just sat there, the girl blinking and unsure, the man gawping at the woman who would soon become his lover. The older man merely watched, apparently content to let his wife would set the pace.

A few moments later, following some lewd comments and laughter all round, the older woman eased between her husband and the younger man as they sat side-by-side on a sofa.

Soon enough, following more ribald remarks and laughter, she had a stiff cock in each hand. The woman ski-poled the men and offered her mouth to her new lover to kiss, at which point the older man beckoned to the younger woman to join in.

On the bed, as she watched it all going on, Susan's fingers mushed around her vulva.

"Go on, girls," she murmured when, as she had hoped, she witnessed a moment of intimacy between the two women. Susan noticed the sudden meeting of their eyes, saw a subtle message conveyed, a sub-text of desire that the men were oblivious to. She knew from experience that, often, during that meeting of minds and libidos, women could be drawn into a kiss, an act entirely un-staged, a whim that involved a tender slide of tongues and a hot-eyed stare of lust.

When it came in that clip, when the connection was made and the women kissed, as the oldest of the pair lead the girl into it, Susan moaned and slid a finger through her labia.

She savoured the slick glide of her own flesh beneath her fingertips, staring at the screen while the women kissed and then massaged each other's breasts. She moaned with yearning, wishing she was there with them as they leered at each other, the men forgotten for the moment.

As the action on the screen continued, when the older man insinuated himself into the fray and eased the girl away from his wife, Susan fucked herself with her favourite dildo, an oversized length of moulded latex, a gnarled and veined lump of spongy pleasure that touched her in all the right places.

She watched the younger woman's face in the moments leading up to the point of penetration, mewled with pleasure as the girl stared with apparent disbelief at the hard cock about to enter her body. The young woman, awkwardly positioned on a sofa, almost upside down with her legs raised, knees folded and her cunt uptilted, held herself open with a slack-jawed expression of anticipation on her face, glancing at her original partner, asking him with her eyes if he was sure he wanted her to do it.

"Fuck her," Susan muttered with her stare locked on the screen. "Put it in. Fuck her," she gasped, moaning as she once again wished she was involved. 

Then it came, the moment when that heavy-lidded look of near idiocy, the slack-jawed expectancy in the young woman's expression was erased. The man gave several tugs on his cock and positioned himself so the head of it nudged the woman's flesh. Then Susan gasped with delight when, finally, the invading length of cock pushed into the girl's opening.

"Fuck her," Susan sighed.

It was the wince of pleasure and the girl's lolling head, her look of shocked delight that caused the arterial burst of desire within Susan. 

"Oh fuck, you lucky bitch," Susan groaned. "Just lie there and take it. You lucky, lucky bitch."

Susan loved watching people fuck, and when the action on her television warmed up further she used the thick and very malleable dildo in her cunt while pressing a buzzing finger-vibe against her clit.

Sometimes, for her, depending on her mood, watching porn and masturbating were better than participating, while at other times she preferred being in the thick of the action. It all depended upon how she felt, what she desired at the time.

In the clubs she frequented Susan didn't discriminate. Male or female – and multiples thereof – Susan had them all.

But she never had Stephanie pegged as someone she could introduce to the scene. Not her, not the very staid and very married Stephanie Anders. It went against Susan's instincts to even try it with Stephanie.

But sometimes, very occasionally, Susan's desires overcame her judgement.

One

Susan's libido thrummed. An insistent pulse beat between her legs, her breasts ached for someone's touch. She would have to do something about it, satisfy her body's demands for fulfilment, and she would have to do it soon.

But first she had to deal with Stephanie, again. Susan hoped she could get rid of her friend quickly. Not from any callousness on her part, but she did want to get upstairs to bed and take a longer, more detailed look at her DVD.

Susan listened to it ... again. She wasn't concentrating too hard, she didn't need to; she had heard it all before, after all. But she pretended to take it all in, kept half an ear cocked while, inside, her sex drive kicked into a higher gear.

She heard how Stephanie had done it to keep him, how she had suffered with self-imposed abstinence because she didn't want her husband to leave her.

"I don't want to be on my own," Stephanie sighed. "Not at my age." 

Susan also sighed, hers in exasperation as opposed to self-pity. She then threw a look towards the sky and noticed the pregnant blanket of grey. It looked set to rain, perfect weather for staying indoors with her sex toys and her film.

But it was still going on, Stephanie's constant litany of woe. It was the same old drone, had been for a few months, and it seemed set to continue. It had been a difficult task getting Stephanie to accept a drink, but she hoped the wine would give her friend a nice little buzz and take her mind off her faithless husband.

With her mind elsewhere, oblivious to the coming rain, Stephanie Anders drew at her cigarette, a deep drag, just about the only indulgence she had left after three months of self-denial. She glanced at the glass in her hand, gawped at it as though wondering how on Earth it came to be there. She wasn't supposed to drink, part of the strict regimen – no booze, no chocolate, no bloody fun...

And still, after all that, after putting up with it all for twelve weeks – the effort in the gym included, just what had she achieved?

Michael still ignored her and invented excuses to go out and fuck his little girlfriend.

Didn't her husband know she was willing to do just about anything for him? He didn't need to run around, cheating. She would dress up for him, role-play if he wanted. There had been that time early on in their marriage when Michael had filmed them together; Stephanie would be more than happy to indulge him that way again. Especially now she felt slim and toned. She could strip and perform in front of a camera if he wanted her to – If he'd only take a bloody interest.

Susan's stomach gave a little flip of excitement when Stephanie said, "I'd let him film us doing it, Susan. That's how low I'm willing to go. My husband could video us making love."

She bit down on the impulse to tell Stephanie she'd hold the camera, her tummy fluttering as her friend carried on.

It seemed he'd lost interest in Stephanie altogether, had thrown her over for the stereotypical 'younger model'. Stephanie felt like she was the used car on the scrapheap. She was redundant, her marriage just waiting for the crusher.

Stephanie took a last, vehement draw at the cigarette and blew a viper's breath of blue smoke towards the glowering sky.

If she didn't do something drastic he would leave her.

With her primal urges under tenuous control for the time being, Susan, almost at the end of her patience with Stephanie's self-absorbed whining, snapped, "You're such an idiot."

Stephanie turned towards Susan and, tearful at her friend's tone, mumbled, "That isn't helping me, Susan. I don't need abuse from you as well." 

She ground the butt of the cigarette into the ashtray with more force that necessary, the vehemence of that act caused by a cocktail of emotions. Stephanie was angry at Michael, disappointed at his weakness for having his head turned by nothing more than a young woman's big boobs. More to the point, she was bloody livid with herself for not doing something about it, for just accepting the situation. Susan's curt remark had hurt her, startled her. But, Stephanie was forced to concede after a few seconds pause, she might have become a bit of a bore about her situation. Susan was probably fed up with listening, Stephanie herself was growing sick of the whole situation, and she had to admit, since her discovery of her husband's infidelity, her conversation tended to focus on one subject – her cracked marriage. 

With that realisation, Stephanie's shoulders slumped. Perhaps it was time to admit defeat? "I'm sorry, Suze," she said on a low sigh.

Susan dragged at her own cigarette and eyed her friend before she too blew smoke at the hanging clouds. "I'm sorry too, Steph. But it's the simple truth, Stephanie. He cheats on you..."

Stephanie sipped her wine and winced internally as the same old refrain went through her head: he cheats on you with a girl fifteen years younger than him; you let him get away with it; you let him walk all over you; he's the one with the problem, he has to fuck a twenty-one year old to make himself feel good; you're too good for him; you've got so much going for you; look at the weight you've lost; you've been killing yourself at the gym and look at you now; you've got looks, money, all you need is some gumption... 

Stephanie held up a hand, palm out. She turned her face away from Susan.

"I know, Suze." She breathed a heavy sigh. "And I'm sorry for going on about it. I know I've been obsessing and you've been getting it all. But I can't just let my marriage simply dissolve." She let out a brittle little laugh, shrugged with helplessness at her plight and even attempted a joke about men and their mid-life crises as she faced her friend. "I haven't asked you before Suze. I..." Stephanie hesitated before finishing. "I probably don't want to know, but what would you do?"

Susan stared at her friend for a long moment, her mind working as the deep and primordial urge surfaced from a dark pool. Susan found herself wondering. Could she...?

She hesitated.

This was Stephanie she was thinking about, her lifelong friend, the sober, upstanding and moralistic woman who had no clue about Susan's sexual proclivities. 

Still, Susan reasoned, if she took it slowly, if she eased Stephanie into a situation that she subsequently objected to, Susan could always reverse course before it went too far. Laugh it off and bluff her way out.

Excitement coursed through her, a curious sense of anticipation which ballooned below her breastbone. It was a familiar feeling, the odd, distant ache of hunger that signalled the onset of one of her episodes. Her libido worked up through another cog. There was only one way she knew to satisfy the appetite. 

Susan's hand trembled as, affecting a cool demeanour she most certainly didn't feel, she shrugged and bent towards the ashtray.

"I wouldn't take his crap, Stephanie." 

After crushing the remains of her cigarette into the bowl of the ashtray Susan lifted her glass and, willing her hand to be still, sipped her wine.

Her eyes moved beyond the patio, down over the large expanse of the garden while she made her decision. She shivered, not with cold but when she experienced a sudden rush of confidence. Susan was filled with the reckless euphoria that came over her when she set her mind on a new and thrilling sexual conquest.

"I wouldn't take his crap, Stephanie," Susan repeated, rising to her feet. She walked into her house. "Come in," she called over a shoulder. "We'll drink more wine, that's what we'll do to start. Then we'll sit down and think properly on what we can do about this whole mess."

The first spots of rain plopped onto the flagstones of the patio as Stephanie followed Susan into the house.

Two

Fifteen miles away, in the recently completed Premier Inn, the room overlooking the new station rechristened Stratford International, the wind threw fistfuls of rain against the hotel window. Not that Michael Anders gave much of a toss about the weather outside, not with him being very distracted by what he saw inside the room.

He was warm and cosy, comfortable with his back wedged against the headboard, a pillow supporting him as he watched the girl walk around the foot of the bed. 

He stroked the rigid length of his cock, mindless to conditions beyond the curtained window as gazed upon loveliness. Michael was captivated by her. Wasn't she just the sexiest thing he'd set eyes on in years? 

He gripped he hard-on and soaked up the sight of his lover: young; her stomach a flat, taut plane dimpled by her navel; long, long legs and lean thighs; straight black hair held in a ponytail; big, gravity-defying boobs.

"You're fucking gorgeous," he breathed, face slack as he stroked his erection.

"Look at you," Amy replied, grinning. Her blue eyes sparkled with her own desires. Long eyelashes fluttered. "That's what I like to see. I love seeing my Daddy all big and hard."

Michael's eyes rolled and he groaned. He cranked at his cock, excited by the girl's lisp, the feigned innocence and her pout.

"It makes me feel good to know my Daddy likes looking at me."

Michael groaned again, grimacing while he tugged himself.

How lucky was he? He was sticking his cock into a twenty-one year old, a fucking stunning twenty-one year old at that! How lucky was he to have that all to himself? And Amy knew what to do to get him going. All she had to do was waltz around the room wearing that over-tight blouse and too-short pleated kilt. 

Look at those big jugs swelling against the thin blouse! He could see the girl's nipples peeping over the cups of her bra. They were right there, clearly outlined. Michael's cock pulsed. He could even see the hint of shadow of saucer-sized areola surrounding the girl's nipples.

Fuck, he wanted her, ached for her with a desperation that drove him insane.

"You do like looking at me, don't you?" Amy breathed, expression one of wide-eyed concern. She paused and toed the carpet, knock-kneed and uncertain, acting the part just as he liked it.

"Does it look like it?" Michael growled. His fist moved slowly, squeezing his girth, prolonging the pleasure as he looked at the girl. He waggled his dick. "Well?" he asked, grinning.

"You just want to put that nasty thing into me," Amy purred. She lifted her breasts, both palms cupping their weight, forefingers teasing her nipples through the blouse.

"Don't you want me to, baby-girl?" Michael muttered through clenched teeth. God but she knew just what to say, knew just how to look at him to make him wild for her.

Amy nodded, ponytail flicking in her enthusiasm. She was hot between her legs, the pulse down there undeniable. She sighed, a button on the blouse loosening in her fingers. "I want you to, Daddy." Another button slipped undone and the blouse gaped. "I want you to hold me tight in your strong arms," she murmured. The blouse flapped open, breast-flesh spilling over the cups of Amy's bra. "I love sitting on your cock, Daddy. It goes in so deep when we do it like that." She paused and reached behind her, the virgin-white blouse falling from her shoulders.

Michael swallowed, his eyes fixed on her body.

The bra dangled in Amy's hand. 

"And," she continued, "I love it when you squeeze my boobs and suck my nipples. You get so excited, Daddy, your cock gets really stiff when I sit on it and you touch my tits."

"Amy," Michael groaned. "Baby, come here. Come to Daddy."

"Don't you want me to suck you?" Amy replied, her tone suggesting surprise. Then her eyes narrowed to feline slits as she cranked up the heat. "Or would you like to lick my pussy instead?"

Michael groaned again. Where did she learn to play this game? 

Then he saw the hem of the kilt rise. 

"Fuck ... Amy. Jesus, baby-girl, you know how to turn me on."

Amy's head tilted down, her chin nudging against her chest as she regarded her own plump pudendum. 

She pouted and said, "I left a little tuft of hair right at the top." Her eyes lifted to meet Michael's hot stare. "It looks cute, don't you think?" 

A jut of her hips and Amy's mound was thrust towards him, the delicate flaps of the labia minora peeping from the plumper outer folds. 


Dirty Susan



"You don't want to lick me down there, Daddy?" Amy said, a moue of disappointment pursing her lips.

Amy paused for a few seconds, posing deliberately to allow Michael time to appreciate her vulva. Then, brightening, Amy let go of the kilt. She shrugged and clambered onto the bed, straddling Michael's thighs. 

His hands went straight to her breasts while Amy lifted herself, the hem of her kilt once more raised by the fingers of one hand while, with her other hand, she reached for the length of him.

Holding Michael's cock upright, Amy looked down into his face and saw his lust; she recognised the yearning and the hunger and her own desire flared.

Amy sighed and rubbed the domed cock-head through her meaty flaps, mushing her vulva onto Michael's erection.

"Here comes your baby-girl, Daddy," Amy mumbled, and then she gasped as that rigid thing nudged inside. "Fuck," she muttered, eyelids flickering before she gurgled, "Daddy ... I just love fucking your big dick."

Michael's hips began to move. He thrust upwards, driving deep into the girl astride him. He thought she was luscious, her breasts were so big and firm, gravity-defying orbs that swung in front of his face. He grabbed them again, revelling in the texture. The girl's tits were so soft, yet firm and pliant at the same time. 

He shifted his grip, grabbing Amy's buttocks, handfuls of taut flesh that he could use as leverage as he fucked up into her.

"You're perfect," Michael mumbled, awed by the youthful body that was his to plunder. "Fuck. Amy. I ... I can't get enough of you." 

Then, completely unbidden, from nowhere came an image of his wife.

Michael cursed the mental aberration.

He compared Stephanie to the girl currently bouncing with great enthusiasm on his dick.

Poor Stephanie, she just couldn't compete, not with Amy. Not with his baby-girl. 

The desperation the woman had exhibited of late was rather pathetic. The diet and the gym sessions? Dis Stephanie actually believe he gave a shit about how she looked? Wasted effort as far as Michael was concerned. Oh, he was fully aware she did it entirely for his benefit. He knew Stephanie's frantic determination to regain her courting weight was her attempt at keeping her man, but he found the whole business, quite frankly, rather nauseating.

Why couldn't Stephanie just get the message? He'd made it plain enough, hadn't he? Did he have to come out and say it to her face? Where was her pride, her self-worth? Why did she put up with it?

It staggered Michael, it really did. Just what did he have to do to get the message through to his wife? She didn't turn him on anymore. Stephanie didn't have what it took to get a rise out of Michael's cock.

Anyway, who cared about a desperate thirty-eight year old? What could Stephanie do that could match the loveliness of the ripe young woman bouncing on his dick?

Michael had no doubt that Stephanie would be whining on to her tubby friend. 

And what would Susan be doing? Oh yeah, Michael had no illusions there, Suze would be calling him all the names going.

It was laughable, really. Okay, yes, he'd had a thing for Susan at one time. She might be a little weighty, a bit doughy, but she had a big pair on her, too. Michael wasn't exactly sure what it was about Suze that he fancied. Yes, she had a hefty pair of jugs that she didn't mind showing off, there was that, but there was also something more, an indefinable air about her. Michael always got the sense that Suze would be a right dirty fuck and that, when it got to it, she could really be a handful. She might be a little on the plump side but there was a look about her, something there in her eyes that spoke of unseen depths.

Not that he'd have dared to make a move, not on Susan. He was no fool, could sense the bitch didn't like him. But he'd had the occasional wank while thinking about her. In his mind's eye he'd managed to coerce her, against her will, used some kind of blackmail that meant Susan had to let him fuck her or face some unthinkably dire consequence. The fantasy usually culminated with him letting go of his muck all over her face. He'd crank at his cock, jizm squirting while he held the image in his head of Suze's pretty face smeared with goo, dollops of the stuff all over her, silver ropes in her blonde hair while viscous spatters of the stuff dripped off her chin onto her tits.

Then Michael looked up, saw the unblemished breasts and the heavy-lidded gaze of lust on Amy's face, and he forgot all about his wife and her friend.

"I love my Daddy's cock," Amy purred. "Are you going to do it inside me?"

This was another of Amy's games, a strangely compelling game – dark and, to his mind, kinky.

"If you want, baby-girl," Michael hissed, cords in his neck tight with effort.

"I do, Daddy," the girl breathed. She leaned in close, her hips jerking, Amy's body holding him deep while her insides clenched around him. "I want you to put me on my back and fuck me, hard. I want you to fuck me deep, Daddy." Amy's tongue slid into his mouth. 

Their tongues danced together for several seconds, a serpentine slide before Amy broke away. 

"I want you to give me all your cum. Put a baby inside me. Please, Daddy, come and put a baby inside me."

Amy yelped and giggled when, with a heave and much thrashing of limbs, with his cock wedged tight inside her throughout, Michael manoeuvred Amy onto her back.

In reality, the thought of his seed impregnating Amy was horrifying. Michael could hardly think of anything worse. But, somehow, the suggestion, the idea of it sent him wild with lust. If he knocked Amy up she would be his, unquestionably, and Michael enjoyed the notion of complete ownership, of dominance over the girl. It was something that appealed to his controlling, completely self-serving nature.

It wasn't something he could explain. Michael couldn't even elucidate the rationale to himself. He had no desire for children, had even had a vasectomy – without consulting Stephanie beforehand, had blagged and bullied the counsellor – to negate the possibility of impregnating his or any of his conquests. There was no way he would consider the event in reality, but the thought of it, and the way Amy begged him to pump his seed into her, to flood her with semen...

That got him so hot, so wound up with desire for her body that he was happy to comply. He did think about squirting his muck on her face and her tits, and sometimes he just went ahead and did it, but more often than not he would give the girl what she wanted.

It was a pity, really, for even as he thrust into Amy and felt the beginning of the inevitable surge tickling way down deep, he knew this affair couldn't last. As before, as with the others, the attraction for her would pall, he would grow jaded. The Daddy scene and the breeding thing would cease to have the effect it currently did and Amy would be cast aside. 

And when that happened he was confident he would be able to make it up with Stephanie.

Stephanie would forgive him. If anything, her response to his affair, the first she'd discovered, had shown Michael that the pathetic bitch would take anything from him. He'd broken her, shattered her confidence and her spirit. After this, when Amy's appeal finally faded he knew for certain that Stephanie would welcome him back with open arms.

And more importantly, in future, he could do what the hell he pleased. He could walk all over her, flaunt other women in her face confident in the knowledge she'd be just as pathetic and desperate to keep him. He might even introduce the idea o a threesome.

Michael, feeling a surge of power at the thought of his dominance over Stephanie, knowing he controlled Amy as well, eager to show off his sexual prowess, hooked the girl's knees behind his arms. He forced her legs wide, kept her uptilted cunt open while she gazed up at him.

Amy's bottom lip was between her teeth. She stared at him, her eyes wide.

"You want Daddy to fuck you and let it all go inside you?" he growled.

A sigh and a roll of Amy's eyes: "Uh-huh, Daddy," she mumbled, nodding.

He began slowly, his cock sliding out, the tip inside the girl as she lifted her hips to draw him back in

"You want me to go deep, baby-girl? You want Daddy to really go hard and come? And when I come, do you want me to push right inside you so I put a baby there?"

"Yes," Amy gasped, her own movements gaining in urgency.

"Okay, baby," Michael grunted. "If that's what you want, Daddy will do it to you. I'm going to fill you with my seed."

He thrust and pumped, the girl's feet swinging, high heels she wore as a requirement of Michael's waggling under the onslaught.

Michael pounded at Amy, screwing his dick deep, savouring the gasps and yelps that came out of her.

He let it go, eventually, when he could hold off no longer he just bellowed and thrust, his cock-head nudging the girl's cervix, semen pumping out of him to flood her insides.

Michael, in the instant the outpouring began, as his toes curled and the irreversible tide burst out of him, thanked the fates for his vasectomy.

No, he didn't want kids, but he could go along with Amy's kinky little game. It was like the Daddy thing she loved, all part of the fun.

It didn't occur to him for a moment that Amy might in fact mean it, that despite her youth she might really want a baby.

But, being the man he was he didn't really care. It was all about him.

Three

Sunday morning, the traditional breakfast in his favourite café after a night of hard graft. To John Palmer's delight the rain had disappeared sometime during the hours he'd spent in the club. It looked like it might be a decent day, which in John's opinion was well overdue.

John Palmer: forty, good-looking in a cheeky, wide-boy way that made women smile, grinned across the table at his friends, his colleagues – although some would more accurately refer to Omar and Ray as his partners-in-crime. Not that John Palmer considered himself a criminal, not at all, in his considered opinion he was a businessman taking care of business.

And pretty successful he was at it.

He nodded at the mobile phone he'd just placed onto the table next to his mug of tea. "That," he said, the grin broadening, "was a lady-friend of mine."

"It's always a fucking lady-friend of yours, John," Omar replied, his white teeth gleaming.

John shrugged and affected a wide-eyed expression of affront. "How fucking rude are you?" he responded around his smirk. "But, if you'll allow me to finish..." 

He rolled his eyes and the other two men chuckled, smiling and clicking their tongues. 

"That," John repeated, his forefinger stabbing the air for emphasis, "was a lady-friend of mine." 

John paused and nodded at a younger version of himself, his apprentice as he liked to call Ray. Ray was an up-and-coming, cut from the same cloth as his mentor. Similar in looks and build although there were no family ties binding them.

"And," John continued, "we have been invited to a party at her place." His eyes moved to Omar's enquiring face. "This afternoon." He winked and chuckled, shoulders lifting in a shrug while his expression conveyed mock surprise. "It seems our services are required. I think you might be popular with Susan," John said to Omar. "You and that elephant's trunk you call a cock."

"The three of us?" muttered a wide-eyed Ray. He threw a look around the busy café and murmured, "And one bird?"

"Two women," John replied, holding up the requisite number of fingers. "The other one's fit as fuck, apparently. Suze said something about husband trouble. She seems to think that she can get her mate..." John's eyes lifted towards the ceiling, lips pursing as he searched for the name Susan had mentioned. "Stephanie!" he blurted, pleased with himself. "Suze reckons that Stephanie can get a bit of payback by fucking us three. Says Stephanie might not be up for it in the end, but it's worth a try."

"So if this Stephanie is meant to be fit as fuck, is Suze a dog then?"

John's head shook side-to-side in response to Omar's question.

"Not at all. No, Omar, not a bit of it." John pulled a face. "Okay, she's not one of them skinny plastic Barbies that you go for, mate. No false tits and Botox for Suze. She might be getting on a bit, about my age, but she's one sexy lady. Dirty as they come." His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper that forced the other two men to lean in closer. "And speaking of come..." John winked, his cheeks dimpling as he grinned. "She comes like the proverbial steam train." John yanked an imaginary cord apparently level with his head. "Toot-toot!" he said, leaning back in his seat, smirking. "She's one of them mature birds who've got that edge to 'em. You know ... Might not be in the first bloom of youth but still looks good without any clobber on." He blew out his cheeks, obviously reliving some earlier encounter with Suze with no clothes on. "Big tits on her," he added, before ending with, "Pretty girl and pretty fucking sexy."

John speared bacon with his fork, chewing while the other two absorbed the information.

"So, lads," John continued after swallowing part of his breakfast. "What do you reckon? This arvo ... after a bit of kip? We swallow a Viagra each and then I introduce you to Suze and her fit friend?"

Four

"It doesn't matter," Susan lied. 

But it did matter.

She was standing on her patio, completely naked, the sun warm on her skin. She'd just ended the call to John and had immediately dialled Stephanie's number.

"Are you sure, Susan? Honest? It doesn't matter?"

Susan gripped her mobile and supressed the urge to scream her frustration.

"Of course not, Steph. It was just an idea. I thought, after what happened between us yesterday afternoon..." A pause before Susan added, "I just thought you might enjoy a little party. You, me and a man I know."

A longer silence ensued. During which Susan said nothing. Nevertheless, while waiting for a response she willed Stephanie to agree.

The sigh that came down the phone did not sound like what she wanted to hear.

Nor was the note of reluctance in Stephanie's tone.

"Oh, Suze ... I ... I'm not sure I could do it. I'm not even sure I believe we did what we did yesterday."

"Didn't you have a good time, Steph?" Susan cut in. She deliberately let an edge slide into her voice, a low, dark yearning. "I can tell you I did. I thought what we did together, you know loving each other that way; I thought it was something special between us."

As she hoped Stephanie would, her friend seized upon the word.

"I did, Suze, I did have a good time. I ... I enjoyed loving together. Really." 

Susan sensed her friend had more to say and remained silent, drawing it from Stephanie. 

"Doing that with you," Stephanie continued, "loving each other." There was another pause, a short one before: "Is that what you think about it, Suze? Did we make love? Was it an act of love?"

"It can be anything you want it to be, Steph," Susan crooned. "It could simply be about sex, good sex ... great fucking sex if you ask me. But didn't it also make you feel close to me? Didn't something change between us? We're no longer just friends, Steph. There's more to us than that now."

It wasn't a lie. Susan wasn't misleading her friend. Her original motivation had been to scratch the itch, to assuage the need, but when she'd seduced Stephanie, when they had lain together afterwards, Susan had experienced a genuine blossoming of tenderness.

"But you said you want a man to join us. How can that be part of us?" Susan heard the catch in Stephanie's voice as the woman continued, "I don't know, Suze. I don't know about any of it. I'm so confused. Yesterday was such a shock. I didn't know I could be with a woman. And with everything going on with Michael ... I just don't know anything anymore. I can't think straight."

"Is Michael at home now?" Susan asked. Her mind raced, it was slipping away from her. She'd been too greedy too soon. She never should have mentioned involving John. It would have been wiser, with hindsight, to consolidate her seduction of Stephanie. Perhaps she could have contrived some apparently chance meeting with John at a later date? She could have, Susan realised, cursing her impetuosity, arranged for John to call at the house while Stephanie was there. She could have slowly built up to it instead of charging in.

Now it seemed the appointment with John had been a little premature.

"Michael?" Stephanie replied to Susan's question. A pause as though Stephanie was reluctant to admit her husband's absence, then her quiet admission: "He said he was going to play golf."

Regretting the response even as the words came tumbling out, Susan replied with, "And you believe him?" She winced at her acerbic tone. Was she deliberately trying to piss Stephanie off?

Stephanie's reaction was a sigh, followed by a very muted, disconsolate, "No."

"Well, I'll tell you what," Susan said, grateful her friend hadn't bristled. "Why don't you come over here, anyway? It's a gorgeous day. You and I could sunbathe. We could drink some wine and you could try to relax." She chuckled, adding, "I won't jump on you, Steph. It'll be just us, the sunshine and a bottle, maybe two, of rose. If you're still here when John arrives you don't have to have anything to do with him. I won't expect you to do something you don't feel comfortable with. You can leave him to me. I'll look after John."

She thought it wise not to mention that John would be accompanied by two of his friends. If Stephanie knew about the other two, she'd definitely refuse.

Susan also sensed her friend's reticence would be part shock at what had occurred between them and part guilt. She knew Stephanie well enough to realise she had probably been up most of the night, agonised by guilt at what she perceived as her infidelity.

Never mind that Michael had been the first to cheat in the marriage – and in the past hadn't the slimy wanker made it known he fancied Susan? Nothing overt, but he'd made it clear that, if she were willing, he'd be more than happy to indulge in some risqué fun. 

But Stephanie wouldn't take her faithless husband's adultery into account. Now, Susan mused, Stephanie probably felt she was just as guilty as Michael. 

Susan knew she'd reached a tipping point with Steph. It could go either way. She had to tread very carefully, had to play Stephanie with care in the next few seconds if her plan had any hope of success.

"Didn't you enjoy what we did, Steph?" Susan murmured. "Are you upset about it? Are you angry with me for seducing you?"

"Oh, Suze..." A deep sigh. "It really was lovely. I didn't know you were like that. I didn't know I was like that." A lengthy pause, during which Susan kept quiet – one wrong word and she knew Stephanie would balk completely. "And no, I'm not upset. I'm just, you know, processing it. It was a shock but I did enjoy it, really I did. It was lovely...

"Kissing you was so tender and...

"And loving, like you said."

"So come over, Steph," Susan pressed, gently. "We don't have to do anything else, not if you feel awkward about it. But you know Michael's with her. You know what he's doing. Just come over here and we can talk nonsense and drink some wine. We'll have a laugh like we always used to."

"But what about your friend John? What about him?"

Susan waved a hand, an airy gesture as if John and his presence were of no consequence. "Like I said, if you're still here when he arrives..." Susan crossed her fingers to cancel out the coming fib. "We'll have a drink, nothing else. I'll look after John later. Don't you give it a thought."

And then, finally, after all that blagging, it came: "Well ... Okay..."

Susan grinned and mouthed a 'Yes' to the high blue sky. "I'll put some bottles in the chiller." 




Dirty Susan



"I'll be half-an-hour," Stephanie replied.

"Great. See you soon. Ciao."

Susan walked to the table and lit a cigarette. She sat in one of the six seats – expensive, heavy wrought iron affairs placed around the table, part of her patio furniture. 

She smoked and schemed, her mind occupied with Machiavellian intrigue as she tried to envision every twist and turn. She could get to work on Stephanie as soon as she arrived. The wine would help, and Susan would use the same tactics as the previous day. She would ply her friend with wine and then convince Stephanie to partake in some more girly sex. Susan was convinced she would be able to wheedle her way into Stephanie's knickers again. She would employ the same technique that had proved so effective already. She would ease Stephanie along, use their rapport and her friend's desire for affection; and Susan was more than happy to supply the commodity. She genuinely liked Stephanie, had sincere feelings for her. And who knew, maybe they had a future together as lovers? 

Susan had really enjoyed that lithe, toned body, and was almost salivating at the thought of all the nasty fun they could share if she could manage to drag Stephanie's mind away from Michael and introduce her to John.

God, the possibilities were limitless.

Susan's thoughts turned to John's friend. If Omar was anything like John had described...

Oh God, a big black cock to play with!

How she'd love to watch Stephanie getting her pink cunt fucked by something like that!

The day was filled with potential. If she kept her cool and coaxed Stephanie all the way it could all happen for them.

John's two friends could be explained away. She could come up with a valid reason for them being with John easily enough. After all, she reasoned, she did have hours to think of something solid.

"Be cool about it, babe," Susan muttered to herself. "Calm, take it easy. Play it by ear."

Susan slouched in the chair, her buttocks sliding forward as she opened her legs. Why not have a little wank before Stephanie arrived? She could fantasise about John and Omar and the other one whose name she couldn't recall. A little rub of her clit while she imagined three men at her simultaneously.

The other issue could wait, what she hoped would be the final piece in the jigsaw. She would deal with that later. It was too early to call just yet.

"Ooh, Steph," Susan groaned when her fingers found the sluice of her sex. "I hope I can make it all happen with you and the boys. You'll have so much fun if you just listen to me and go with it."

The cigarette smouldered in the ashtray while Susan sighed into the summer sky, her fingers working at her vulva, her mind filled with what could be – If only she could get Stephanie to cooperate.

**

At the same time as Susan masturbated on her patio, at the moment Stephanie was leaving the marital home, Michael Anders, in yet another hotel room, was appreciating one of his favourite views. He was seriously considering asking Amy if he could take photos of her. A pictorial reminder of the girl for the future when he'd decided he'd had enough and binned her.

She'd arrived that day wearing a pair of cut-off denim shorts and bikini top. The Daisy Dukes were so faded they were the colour of sun-bleached bone, so skimpy that the undercurve of Amy's buttocks were visible as she'd strode into the foyer of the hotel. There had been a few raised eyebrows and several surreptitious, very appreciative second looks before Michael had taken the key-card from the clerk on the reception desk and whisked Amy away.

At that moment, mere minutes after entering the room, the shorts were cast aside and the girl was on her knees, her breasts swinging loose.

"You look gorgeous like that, Amy," Michael growled. He smoothed a palm over the girl's sleek hair, smiling as she looked up at him, her eyes bright, the sclera clean and glistening, the green of her iris iridescent with desire.

What charged Michael the most was the innocence in Amy's eyes contrasted with her lips stretched tight around his girth. 

The girl's face was distorted as she accommodated his meat, and her big eyes staring up at him elicited a low groan from Michael. 

"Fuck, but you're so beautiful when you look at me that way. God, Amy, I think I'm going to come if you keep on doing that to me."

The knob-end plopped from Amy's lips. She sucked in a deep breath, her fingers splayed across her breasts. 

"Do you really like it that much?" she asked, gasping and swallowing.

"Fucking hell, Amy," Michael said. "Seeing you do it ... Your face, your eyes ... Shit, I can't tell you how good it is. All of it."

The girl grinned and shuffled to a more comfortable position on her knees, rising while her hand cranked at Michael's erection. 

She swelled with pride. "I like making my Daddy happy. I'll do anything for you."

Michael replaced Amy's hand with his own, growling, "Keep sucking Daddy's cock." 

Amy laughed when he tapped her cheeks and forehead with the keel of his hard-on. 

"Come on, Amy. Suck it, baby-girl. Make Daddy happy."

God it was good, so fucking sweet to watch the girl slurp and slobber at his meat. He couldn't make up his mind whether to get between her legs and play the baby-making game again or if he should just let her carry on. He knew she wasn't all that keen on having him come all over her face. It was the jizm in her hair that pissed her off the most, not so much the mess he made on her cheeks and tits, nor was she put off by the taste of spunk, but she whinged like fuck if she caught ejaculate in her hair.

At the thought of coming over Amy's face, and her aversion to spunk in her hair, Michael was reminded of his fantasy of Susan, the one where he came and came and covered her face with semen. The one where ropes of jizm clung to her blonde hair while a lot more of the stuff slid down her cheeks.

Fuck it, he decided. Let Amy whine. He was going to fuck her face and let it go all over her. If the stuff landed where she didn't like it, then tough, he was going to let it fly. Gravity and the force of his ejaculation would take care of the rest.

"That's it, baby-girl," Michael grunted, encouraging Amy to really work at him. "Make some noise. Let Daddy know how much you love sucking his dick."

Amy sucked, her cheeks concave before she let Michael's cock-head pop from her lips with a sound like a cork from a bottle. She grinned at the moan from Michael, repeating the action a further three times, lips smacking as the blunt head popped out.

"Yes, baby-girl. Do it. Do that again."

Amy laughed and complied. Then she rose to her feet and pressed her body against Michael's. She kissed him, her hand working along the whole length of his tumescence.

"Lick me, Daddy," Amy murmured. "Kiss my pussy. Make me come and I'll suck your cock some more."

Michael shoved his jeans down his legs, suddenly impatient to get at her. He wanted to hear Amy moan and tell him how good he was at tonguing her sex. 

She was already on the bed, her legs open while her fingers stirred languid circles through her fleshy vulva.

That look in her eyes, the heat and desire Michael saw in Amy's expression tugged at some indefinable, visceral instinct. Lust surged through him and he scrambled out of his clothes with indecent haste, eager as he'd ever been to be at her.

"Yes, Daddy," Amy mumbled, her hair falling over her face as her head lolled forwards. She held her labia splayed with the fingers of one hand, squeezing one breast while Michael lapped at the exposed nub of pink flesh. "That's nice ... Right there. Suck my clitty."

Amy's stomach tensed and her legs came up off the bed. She groaned and gasped and reached for the man's head while his tongue slid over and around and then, finally, into her cunt.

"I can feel that!" Amy squealed. She pulled her lover's face against her body, forcing him to herself, desperate for his tongue as it squirmed inside her.

Michael broke away with a gasp, his chin smeared with Amy's desire. He then began to work at her, licking, slurping and lapping at her core. He slid a finger into the molten heat, wetting the digit before he brought it out and slid the moistened tip over Amy's clitoris.

The finger slipped inside again, quickly followed by a second finger. This time Michael turned his hand, palm uppermost while he curled both fingers, finding a place inside Amy that made her gasp.

"Fuck," the young woman blurted. She levered herself up onto her elbows and, wide-eyed and staring, gaped down along the length of her torso. "Do that, Daddy," she grunted. "That feels so fucking good." A long groan curdled from Amy's chest. She snorted before she grabbed at Michael's wrist and forced his expeditionary probing even deeper. Then, with her pretty features twisted into a grimace of frantic longing, her voice thick and guttural, Amy said, "Keep dong that ... I'll come."

Michael held the girl's eyes with his stare. He challenged her silently, defying her to break contact while he rubbed at her.

"Come for me," Michael muttered. "Come for me. I own you, Amy. Come for me when I tell you."

The girl was frantic, sobbing and gasping, her gaze still tied to Michael's. He watched her, could see her stomach tensing, her tits shivering as she rushed headlong towards her climax.

"Come on," Michael snarled, three stiff fingers plunging and squelching, Amy's body tight around them. "Come, you bitch. Come for me. Let it go. Let it all go."

He knew he had her when her hips and thighs began to jerk. Amy's body convulsed and a breathless grunt burst out of her. She fell back onto the bed, limbs thrashing, signalling her pleasure with gasps and mewls and the occasional blurted obscenity.

Michael was up on his knees, his fist yanking urgently. He tugged at himself as he positioned himself alongside Amy's head, aiming the knob-end of his cock at her face. With one hand he reached down and slid his fingers into the young woman's hair, turning her towards him.

Amy's eyes flew open when the first splash spattered onto her cheek. Jizm ricocheted off her tongue when she opened her mouth as a target, gouts of the stuff spattering onto her breasts as Michael continued to pull at himself.

With her own climax cooling, the young woman had the presence of mind to bring Michael towards her, her hand against his buttocks as she took him into her mouth.

"Daddy," Amy mumbled, gloop sliding over her chin as she sat up. "You came all over me." She surveyed her cum-spattered breasts and scooped the dangling thread from her chin with a forefinger, holding the digit aloft to examine the viscosity of Michael's ejaculate. The girl pouted at her lover with mock displeasure. "I need a shower, now. You've come all over my tits." Then she grinned, her face smeared with spunk. "But at least it didn't get in my hair."

It was to Amy's great disappointment that Michael failed to gain another erection. She wanted, as usual, for him to come inside her. She was just coaxing the beginnings of a hard-on from him when his mobile rang, and a few seconds later Michael was up on his feet, his expression changing from surprise at the caller's identity to sudden anger.

Five

It had been a calculated risk. One that Susan couldn't resist. Even though she knew Stephanie's fragile state, Susan decided to risk it. She met Stephanie's eyes and gave a wry chuckle at her friend's shocked face.

"I couldn't help it, Steph. It's such a lovely day. I'll put something on if you'd prefer." Susan offered a lopsided grin in apology, hoping her friend would forgive the minor indiscretion. She stepped back and gestured with the sweep of an arm. "Anyway, please come in."

Stephanie hesitated, caught by surprise at Susan's nudity. "I'm not sure about this, she said." 

But a minute later she was on the patio, a glass of wine in hand as she eyed two beach towels spread on the lawn with suspicion.

Stephanie sighed. "You said we could talk, have a laugh. I'm not too sure about sunbathing naked with you."

"Oh, come on," Susan replied. She walked across the grass and got down onto one of the towels. "It's so bloody gorgeous, Steph. The sun, at last, warm on my skin. It feels marvellous." Sitting upright she sipped wine; and then winked. "Don't be shy, Stephanie. You've got a lovely body. If I looked as good as you do naked I'd have my clothes off all the time. I'd make men go wild for me." Her eyelid dropped to her cheek again, a lascivious wink full of suggestion as she added, "And the ladies, too. If I was as fit as you, I'd get my kicks by turning everyone on."

Stephanie blushed, her face hot, cheeks burning. There was an appeal to just stripping off and lying out in the sun. It was something daring to do. Not completely wild, just titillating. She threw a glance at Susan, saw her friend's nudity. It would be a thrill. After all nobody could see. Susan's house was in its own grounds with a walled perimeter, completely private. She felt the sun warming her, and was immediately overwhelmed with a reckless excitement, a sudden desire to expose her skin to its smile. 

Stephanie's thoughts went back to the previous day: She had let herself be kissed by that woman, and had also kissed Susan in return. She had held those heavy breasts and sucked those nipples. Susan's tongue had found Stephanie's clit, stiff fingers had pushed into her opening; Stephanie had cried out and climaxed while those same digits had made her squirm and groan.

Stephanie's blush deepened and spread. Then she experienced a sudden rush of molten heat between her legs while the pit of her stomach dragged with that leaden weight she recognised as desire.

"If ... If..." Stephanie began before her voice tapered to nothing.

Susan remained silent, her expression feline.

Stephanie sighed, limbs trembling. She swallowed heavily and summoned the courage to articulate what was on her mind.

"If I take my clothes off ... When we're out here, together, on those towels...?

"Will you...? 

"Will you kiss me gain, Susan?"

Susan's throat was suddenly thick with desire.

"If you want me to, Stephanie," she said, her voice a glutinous croak. "Is that what you want me to do?"

Stephanie hesitated before nodding. "Yes," she murmured. "I think so."

"Then take off your clothes, Steph." Susan rose to her feet and held out her arms. "Take them off and come here."

By then Stephanie's pussy was oiling. Her hands were shaking as she peeled the sleeveless tee-shirt over her head. Her fingers fumbled with the draw-cord of her loose, flowing leggings. She kicked off her sandals and stood there, self-conscious in her underwear, the cotton trousers pooled around her ankles.

"The rest," Susan muttered, her eyes going over Stephanie's body. "Take them off. Let me see you naked, Steph."

"Oh God," whined Stephanie. "I don't believe I'm doing this," she muttered.

It was time to be firm. Susan recognised that the moment had come to assert her dominance over her friend.

She was in front of Stephanie in three quick strides. "Kiss me, Steph," she urged. Taking hold of Stephanie's hand, Susan lifted it to her breast. "Feel me, darling. Touch me. I want you to touch me while we kiss."

Stephanie moaned into her friend's mouth, her tongue, seemingly of its own accord, snaking around Susan's. She hefted both of those big tits in her palms, her thumbs moving over the nipples, exciting the flesh, teasing the teats to a lengthy firmness while Susan signalled her approval with a groan.

Moments later and Stephanie was naked, on her back, legs wide, her opening exposed to Susan's stare.

Susan splayed Stephanie's labia and grinned. "Your husband's a fucking arsehole," she muttered. "How can he not want to kiss this pussy all fucking day?"

Stephanie gave a lurch, moaning and gasping when Susan lapped at her. 

"Oh!" she cried. "You're licking me. Susan ... Dear God, you're licking me again."

Susan chuckled, her forefinger sliding over Stephanie's clitoris. 

Her face appeared and she grinned. "Don't sound so surprised," she said.

The blonde head ducked once more. Stephanie moaned and sighed, allowing the sensations to pulse outward from between her legs, capitulating to the dark urges Susan brought forth, her troubles momentarily cast aside.

Six

The car, a big Range Rover, a symbol of John's success, pulled up outside the heavy gates.

"Fucking hell, John," intoned Omar. "You weren't kidding when you said she had a big drum." He leaned forward, head moving slowly from left to right as he took in the high gates and the wall. "I thought I was doing all right with my place. But this is a fucking mansion."

"Ah, she's not short of a bob," John grinned, tipping Omar a wink at the same time. "Dirty Susan has a few quid tucked away." He tapped the side of his nose – nudge nudge, wink wink – then pointed the same finger at Omar. "She had a banker for a husband..."

John rolled his eyes when a splutter came from the rear of the car. He swivelled in the big bucket seat, looking back at Ray. "A proper banker, Ray. I'm talking pounds, shillings and pence. Not like you, lying on your scratcher at your mum's with a dirty book in one hand and your cock in the other, you cunt."

Ray just grinned at him. 

John turned back to face the windscreen and continued: "Anyway, old Suze got herself well set up. She made a few investments, divorced the geezer, and here she is ... Fucking minted and as horny as a dog with two cocks."

The window on John's side lowered with a purr of electronic excellence. He reached out and pressed the button on an intercom unit set on a short post.

A brief wait until a voice crackled: "Come up to the house, John. Park outside the front door."

The gates swung open, a slow glide until they locked into place with a metallic clank. The driveway ahead was clear, and John nosed the big car over the gravel.

"Dirty Susan?" Omar said as they rounded a curve and saw the house in front of them. "Did you call her Dirty Susan?"

John chuckled. "Wait and see, mate. Wait and see."

The car halted next to a sleek Mercedes sports car at the same moment the front door of the house opened.

"There she is," said John. He waved to Susan as she stood in the doorway.

"Not bad at all," Omar replied, his eyes taking in the ripe curves. Susan, in an effort towards a modicum of decorum was freshly showered following the pleasant outdoor interlude with Stephanie. She stood there, smiling broadly, a thin, pink cardigan clinging to her torso, the top three buttons loose to reveal a generous swath of skin, breast-flesh bubbling over the cups of her bra, precipitous cleavage on display.

"Look at them jugs!" blurted Ray from the back seat. "Fuck my old boots, she's sexy as fuck." He let his gaze slide from Susan's bosom to the slightly too short skirt, licking his lips when his appraisal stopped at Susan's shoes. He let out a low whistle and shook his head slowly in appreciation of well-turned calves, the muscles pleasingly tensed because of the high, lethal-looking heels Susan wore.

"Keeps her muff waxed smooth, too, lads," John informed his bug-eyed companions. "That's Dirty Susan." He chuckled. "You're in for a treat."

"How did you meet her, John?" Ray asked, voice cracked with eager anticipation. He couldn't wait to get out of the car. This was better than Southend pier and Christmas in one.

"Swingers' club," he was informed. 

John opened the door on his side. "Anyway, let's get on with, shall we, boys? I want to see her mate. The fit bird."

"Hello, lads," Susan said. She beamed a delighted smile, her tone husky as she surveyed the delicious array of manhood as the trio climbed the steps towards her. "You must be Omar," she added, the leer an indication that she'd heard good things about him.




Dirty Susan



"Looking good, Suze," interjected John as he approached. He pecked a kiss against Susan's cheek. "Yep, this is Omar." He winked and gave the blonde his cheeky grin. "Omar, Suze. Suze, Omar."

"Hello, Susan," Omar responded with a languid wave.

"And Ray," John said. "A bit of young stuff just for you, Suze."

"It's all to the good, John," Susan replied, chuckling. She smiled at Ray who had his stare firmly fixed on her chest. Then, with a glance back inside the house, she lowered her voice, saying, "This whole set up is for her." Susan threw a thumb over one shoulder. "She doesn't know there are three of you. She's jittery enough about one of you, never mind three. I told her not to worry. Said we would have a drink and if she wants to she can go." Susan leered at the three men. "I told her I'd sort John out on my own if she left." Her gaze lingered on Omar for a few seconds, a hot stare at his crotch. "But I'm just as happy to sort out the three of you," she added." Then, dropping the hot-eyed look and suggestive tone, went on with, "But we'll play it by ear. Just go with it. Let me run things."

"Okay. Sure. Whatever you say, Suze," replied John. "Don't you worry about us. Me and Omar can think on our feet as it develops, we've had enough practice ducking and diving." He nudged his chin towards Ray. "And Ray will go along with any guidance he's given."

John regarded the young man beside him: "You get it, Ray? Susan's in charge. No blundering in and scaring the fuck out of her mate. We're fucking gentlemen, right? Got it?"

Ray nodded acquiescence. He got it, no problem. He wouldn't do a thing to fuck up their chances. Not if the curvy blonde meant what she said. Even if the other woman walked, she would take on the three of them. Yeah, he wouldn't mind it either way.

The trio followed Susan's sashay into the house.

**

Oh God, there were three of them!

Stephanie's next thought was to wonder why the men were wearing suits. Who wore a suit on a Sunday afternoon in this day and age?

She stood next to the two-seater sofa, obviously nervous while Susan made the introductions.

"The boys work together," Susan informed Stephanie when the niceties were over. "John's got a club, a nightclub near Surrey Quays" She turned to John. "I take it you're working tonight?"

The man grinned and spread his arms. "Always working, girl. No rest for the wicked."

Stephanie felt the heat in her cheeks when John tipped a wink her way. Regardless of her trepidation, Stephanie decided she quite liked him. He had an easy, confident manner. She guessed he was a charmer, a flirt, but he was pretty good-looking, too. He seemed good fun, and not in the least lecherous. The other two, the black man and the young fellow came across as nice guys as well.

She took a deep breath in a conscious effort to relax. The wine and sex with Susan in the open air had given her a buzz.

Susan laughed at John's quip. She raised an eyebrow, replying with, "Indeed ... But we won't talk about wickedness just yet." She surveyed the assemblage with an enquiring eye. "How about a drink?"

There were murmurs of appreciation from the men. 

Stephanie nodded. Why not have another drink? She didn't feel in the least bit threatened by the men, sensed nothing sinister from them. Yes, more wine would be good. She wasn't entirely sure about Susan's intent – Did her friend expect her to stay and join in the fun and games? There were three of them for God's sake! If she left, Stephanie wondered, would Susan go ahead and let them all have her? 

Just look at her with her boobs practically bursting out everywhere. It looked to Stephanie that Susan wanted a penis. But would she actually take three?

It was an exciting thought, absolutely appalling to contemplate but thrilling nevertheless. No emotions involved, just sex for the sake of it did have a certain dark appeal. But Stephanie couldn't do anything like that. Multiple men? Her? No, Stephanie didn't think she could go that far.

What had happened with Susan was different. She was an old friend and the sex with her was more of a comfort through troubled times. Stephanie felt safe with Susan, secure. Shocking as it had been at the time, Stephanie had enjoyed the moments of deep intimacy with Susan. Being naked with her friend, sharing kisses and loving each other with fingers and tongues was the wickedest thing she'd ever done.

But her mind drifted towards the possibility of making love with John, and her body reacted to the thought. While the residue of the orgasms she'd experienced with Susan lingered, a warm reminder between her legs, Stephanie contemplated taking John to one of the upstairs rooms. Susan could do whatever she wanted with the other two, but she and John could be alone.

Stephanie's clitoris pulsed and her nipples grew tight and she decided to see how far she dare go. She could enjoy some flirting and maybe, if the mood took her, simply enjoy urgent, frantic sex with a good-looking man. 

Forget Michael for the time being, she could allow herself a transgression. It wouldn't hurt to take some revenge in the form of another man's cock.

The afternoon didn't have to go too far, Stephanie mused. She didn't have to do anything she didn't want to. An orgy was out of the question for sure. The word no was in her vocabulary, part of her verbal armoury, a weapon she wouldn't be afraid to use. 

Stephanie glanced at the men, saw nothing she didn't like and decided to go along with it ... for the time being. A couple of drinks and a laugh would be okay, a kiss and a cuddle with John to her liking. If it got too strange she would get a cab home.

"So, John," Stephanie heard herself say, amazed at how calm she sounded, "a nightclub? How exciting..."

With the ice broken, and with Stephanie engaged in what looked to be easy conversation with John, Susan went to the kitchen. She poured wine for herself and Stephanie, pulled bottles of beer from the fridge for the men, and carried the lot through to the reception room on a tray.

"Excuse me a second," Susan said when everyone was seated, drinks close by or in hand. "But I won't be long."

She moved along the long hallway towards the rear of the house and went out onto the patio. Pausing to light a cigarette, Susan then used her mobile to make a call. It was a brief, one-way conversation, and when she hung up Susan estimated she had half-an-hour to forty minutes to get things warmed up inside.

Then the party could really get started.

Seven

"Now," Susan said when she returned to the soiree. "Where's my drink?" She lifted the wine glass. "Cheers." She looked around and was pleased to note that everyone seemed cool and relaxed.

Omar was sitting in one of the deep armchairs. He looked very comfortable, and well he should the price Susan had paid for the furniture.

John rose and offered his chair to Susan. She accepted with a smirk, knowing John wanted her close to him.

"John was just telling me about his club," Stephanie informed her friend as Susan sat down, John perching on the chair arm. "It sounds like they have an interesting time of it." She smiled at Ray, who was next to her on the two-seater.

She didn't see Susan's wink to John, nor was she aware of the surreptitious movement when the man popped a small blue pill into his mouth and washed it down with a swig of his beer, her attention taken by Omar as he spoke.

"Yeah, Steph, never a dull moment down at the club."

"You could come over sometime," Ray chipped in. "Both of you." He glanced away from Stephanie, his eyes going straight to Susan's cleavage. 

Ray, along with the other two men, had clocked the button Susan had loosened before her return. He was struggling with the discomfort of an erection swelling inside his suit trousers. The blonde was just as John had described her: lovely and rounded ... And her tits! Jesus but did Ray want to see those jugs swinging free. Stephanie wasn't bad, either. Fit as fuck, as John had promised.

"You'd have a great night. We'd take care of you," he finished.

Stephanie blinked when she heard the husky timbre of Ray's voice. There was something in the quality of his tone that stirred her on a physical level. Her chest suddenly felt tight and she found it difficult to breathe. He was so close to her. His leg was tight against hers.

It occurred to her that it was the same intense feeling she'd experienced when Susan had seduced her, and Stephanie was quickly very aware that she felt the same stirring between her legs, mercurial lust as her pussy flooded. Just how much wine had she drunk? When she examined he glass, Stephanie was shocked to find it empty.

Muddled with drink and her body's unexpected response to Ray's youthful proximity – he looked bloody good in a suit, filled it well – as well as the desire evident in the young man's voice, Stephanie lurched to her feet.

She waved her glass in the air. "I'm just going to get another drink. Anyone else?"

When Stephanie left the room, Susan, with a wary eye towards the door, said, "Give it a little while longer. I'll make a move." She threw a heavy-lidded look towards Omar. "I hope you're not shy," she said directly, her meaning obvious.

Next to Susan, John laughed. "Pop the little blue pill, mate." He smirked down at the blonde but continued to direct his comments to Omar. "You'll need it. When she gets going..." He then turned to Ray, asking, "What about you?"

Ray shook his head and lifted his buttocks from the chair. He tugged at the front of his suit trousers and grimaced. 

"Fuck off. I'm twenty years old. What do I need Viagra for? I've already got a hard-on."

"Save some of that hard cock for me," Susan growled. She leaned forward and jiggled her torso. Then, blowing a kiss at Ray, pressed the palms of both hands to the outer flanks of her breasts.

Ray's cheeks ballooned as he slowly shook his head, eyes lasering over Susan's curves, the deep crease of her cleavage emphasised because of the blonde's hands forcing her tits together. 

"Not a problem," he said with confidence well beyond his years. "With a lady like you, I could go all night ... Without any fucking pill to help me keep it up."

Susan grinned happily. "I'll hold you to that, Ray." She slid a look towards the door, expecting Stephanie to walk in at any moment. "If we don't get together tonight," she shrugged, "then some other time for sure."

Susan glanced at the door again and, speaking quickly, enlightened the men as to the why she'd absented herself a few minutes earlier.

"I've made a call to her husband. If he turns up, and I hope he does, I want you to persuade him to stay. If Steph goes for it, I want that wanker to watch while one of you gives her the good news.

"Like I said, I'll make a move soon." 

Another appreciative look at Omar, a glance at his crotch. 

"Remember, just play along with it, whatever happens, just go along with me." Susan chuckled and rolled her eyes. "At the very least, if it all goes wrong..." She paused and smirked and looked at each man in turn. "...I'll have three lovely men to play with. It won't be a complete loss."

There were chuckles and winks and suggestive murmurs. Omar swallowed his Viagra. 

Stephanie returned with the tray full of drinks and played the host.

She settled next to Ray once more and the conversation picked up again. John and Omar kept the ladies amused by revealing condensed life histories – the shadier elements omitted – for a further fifteen minutes.

Then, with a casualness that made Stephanie splutter, Susan asked, "So, Omar ... I bet you get asked all the time ... But are you proportioned in the way I'm led to believe?"

**

They both stood in the centre of the room, Susan next to Omar, her body pressed alongside his, the man's penis dangling from the gaping front of his suit trousers.

The size of it shocked Stephanie. The bloody thing was huge. 

"Oh wow!" She heard Susan cry. "It's bigger than I thought."

Stephanie swallowed, unable to tear her gaze from the appendage.

Then Susan's fist closed around it, her fingers not meeting around its circumference.

"Shit," the blonde groaned. "Jesus, Steph..." Susan stared at her friend, dragging Stephanie's attention from the penis to her face.

Omar's penis surprised even Susan. It wasn't so much the length of Omar's cock, although it was one of the longest she'd ever seen, nor even the girth, which, again was a match for any cock she had laid eyes upon before. What impressed her most was the mass of that chocolate-coloured thing. It just hung there, arcing heavily from the unzipped flies, so threatening, the bulging head of it a deep and dark purple.

"What?" Stephanie mumbled, appalled yet aroused beyond measure, turned-on by the sight of that cock and the absolute yearning evident in Susan's stare, in equal measure.

"Have you seen this fucking thing?" Susan muttered.

Stephanie nodded, gulping again as her vulva, suffused with liquid warmth, swelled with desire. Susan's husky moan, her wide eyes – the heat and yearning in that look! The terrible size of the black cock in her grip...

And Susan can't even get her fingers around it!

"Susan..." Stephanie mumbled as the blonde hiked her skirt around her hips. 

There was a mutter from Ray when Susan's lack of underwear became apparent to all who watched the scene unfold. 

"Oh God, Suze..." Stephanie breathed. She wanted to do it then. At that moment she didn't care about the future, her husband, anything. She would take on those three men and be fucking glad of it.

Susan was squatting by then, her hand cranking at Omar's cock.

"Watch me suck him, Steph. Watch me suck this big fucker."

"Shit," muttered Ray when, with the knob-end stretching her lips, Susan unfastened the remaining buttons and lifted her breasts, one after the other, from her bra.

Ray's hand went to Stephanie's leg, his fingers on her thigh.

Stephanie glanced down at Ray's hand on her thigh. She squirmed and let out a low moan. She wanted the young man to touch her between her legs; she wanted him to lick her into a coma; she wanted it all, but at that moment, distracted, she was powerless to do anything other than gaze enraptured at the fascinating sight of Susan working at Omar's penis.

Then the doorbell rang, long and insistent before ceasing abruptly and someone began to hammer at the door.

Eight

Susan looked at John, her fist cranking Omar's cock. She raised an eyebrow and John, who had been looking on with a smirk on his face, took his cue and heaved himself out of his chair.

A few moments passed. There were voices at the door, muffled and indistinct, and yet to Stephanie's surprise Susan just kept on working her fist up and down the length of Omar's impressive penis.

Then she blinked with stunned disbelief when she saw Michael enter the room, John close behind. 

What was he doing there? What possible reason could there be for her husband's presence?

**

When he walked into that room, Michael was reminded of the film Reservoir Dogs: Men in suits? 

Then his eyes fell upon Susan, her big breasts swaying in time with the movement of her arm as she fisted the enormous bulk of the black man's cock. 

Fucking hell ... Look at her ... The dirty fucking cow...

He glanced around and noticed Ray's hand on Stephanie's leg. 

"What the fuck--?" he blurted. 

What was Stephanie doing with that kid's hand on her leg? What was she doing on the periphery of what had all the makings of an orgy? 

He looked away from his wife, staring once more at Susan as she smirked back at him. 

Michael couldn't dag his eyes away from the blonde and her tits as he spoke to his wife.

"Steph, what the hell are you doing here with this lot?"

"Watching me suck cock," interjected Susan before Stephanie could respond. "You should sit down, Michael. You're just in time." A dark chuckle rumbled out of her. "Maybe you should down and watch Omar have a go at your wife?" Susan waggled the cock and slapped the underside of its head against her tongue. "You want to see her fucking this thing, Michael?"

Michael gulped, eyes bulging. His mouth worked open and closed as he struggled to make sense of the feelings inside him. He was aroused by Susan's dishabille, couldn't take his eyes off her big jugs and tense thighs as she squatted there with that ... thing in her hand. Part of him wanted to see Susan's cunt accommodating the length and girth of it; he ached to do it to her, too. He wanted to hear her moan, wanted to watch her face as she came, her cunt clenching around his cock.

But the thought of watching Stephanie, his wife, being fucked by the black cock was unthinkable. The idea of her fucking anyone other than him was appalling. Michael was unable to countenance such an act. It was okay for him to ride the arse off Amy, what man wouldn't if given the opportunity to fuck a young woman like her? But there was no way anyone was getting some of Stephanie. Not a chance. He might have grown bored with her, had his head turned by Amy, but he was a man, and that's what men did. Stephanie was his wife and she'd do as he said. It was time for her to get the fuck out of that house, away from Susan. Immediately.

"You," Michael snarled, pointing at Ray. "Get your hand off my wife's leg." He stepped towards the pair on the sofa, Stephanie's jaw still slack with shock at his unexpected presence. "You're coming with me, Steph," he growled. "Now. You're getting out of this right now."

A hand gripped Michael's bicep as he took another pace.

With his voice low and threatening, John said, "You don't want to give Ray any orders, mate. He's only a young bloke, but he'll tear you apart. You threaten him and you'll end up looking like a right cunt in front of your missis."

Characters from another film flashed into Michael's mind when he heard John speak. This time he was reminded of Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels. Michael gaped at the man who held him. Who did this joker think he was, Vinnie Jones?"

"But..." Michael began until the squeeze on his arm caused him to wince and gasp.

"Trust me. You'll end up blowing snot bubbles and snivelling if Ray decides to take offence."

"She's my wife," Michael whined, all parody gangsters forgotten. "She can't do this. She has to come with me."

John pulled a face. "I hear you weren't too bothered about her since you got yourself a bird. A younger model by all accounts." He shrugged and nodded towards Stephanie who was sitting stock still, Ray's hand still on her thigh. "You're a mug, mate. Look at her, your wife, she's bloody gorgeous ... A nice lady, too; we've been talking, and I reckon she deserves better than a slimy little wanker like you."

Michael was stunned; shocked to his core that Stephanie would allow herself to get into such a sordid situation. And who was this man to make any judgement? 

Despite the iron grip that banded his arm, regardless of the flat, implacable stare, blue ice in the man's face, Michael's innate arrogance came to the fore and he bridled. 

"Let me go," he grunted, attempting to break free of the band of iron gripping his arm. He looked at Stephanie, eyes pleading. "Steph, come on. Let's go." Then, when Stephanie showed no inclination to obey, he tried to placate her with: "I'll get rid of Amy, it's over ... She was just a fling. She's not you, Steph. You're my wife..."

It was then, unnoticed up to that point, as she stood in the doorway, Amy exclaimed, "What! Michael ... What are you saying?"

Nine

In the ensuing cacophony, a babble of voices, some overriding others, with John's attention diverted to Amy, Michael slipped his arm free. 

"I thought I told you to stay in the car," he snapped at the girl.




Dirty Susan



At the same time, with Michael berating Amy, an incredulous Stephanie cried: "You brought her here? You expect me to go with you and her?" Stephanie shook her head, flabbergasted, and, spluttering with outrage, added, "You've humiliated me, Michael. Turned me into a needy and desperate woman and I hate you for it."

There was a raucous laugh from Susan while Ray muttered, "Fucking hell, it's a fucking freakshow."

Then Amy was babbling: "You're finishing with me? Is that what you said, Michael?" Her jaw dropped and she stared at him for several seconds. "But what about us? What about you being my Daddy? What about my baby?"

Astounded by Amy's comment, Stephanie gaped at her husband. "Baby! What baby?" she asked. "What the hell is she saying, Michael?"

"Nothing," Michael snarled. He glared at Amy. "It's just a game she plays. A thing that gets her hot."

"No!" the young woman shouted. "It isn't like that. It's what I want ... We've been trying."

Stephanie's jaw dropped at that bombshell.

"But..." she gasped. Then, after a shake of her head, recovering quickly, Stephanie added, "What about his vasectomy? He can't give you any kids, you stupid girl. He doesn't want children." She rounded on her husband. "Or at least he didn't want any with me."

Amy blinked in the face of Stephanie's words. She stared at her rival for Michael's affections, horror etched into her face before she turned to the man himself. 

"What? What did she say? Michael ... Daddy, please..."

Susan rose to her feet. "What a bastard you are, Michael," she snorted. "An absolute shit."

"I didn't think she meant it," Michael blustered. His arms flapped at his sides. "It was ... I thought..." He ran his fingers through his hair. How did he get stuck in this nightmare? "It was all part of the game ... Like the Daddy thing; I thought it was just something kinky that turned you on, Amy."

For Stephanie, the dominant emotion at that moment was revulsion. Her husband sickened her; and it was that disgust, tinged with burgeoning anger at his duplicity that influenced her next action.

She stared at Michael for a few seconds, dimly aware that Susan was haranguing him volubly. Then, swivelling her torso she looked at the profile of the young man next to her for a few seconds, studying him.

Dare she kiss Ray in front of Michael?

Stephanie glanced at Omar, took in the sight of his cock again and glanced down at Ray's hand on her leg.

If Susan could suck cock in front of an audience, she could kiss Ray.

"Will you kiss me, Ray," Stephanie murmured.

The man, his attention dragged from Amy's shorts and bikini top to Stephanie's face, gave her a lopsided grin. "Sure," he said, shrugging as though whatever else was going on around him was of no consequence.

They kissed, and while Stephanie opened her mouth to accept Ray's tongue, Amy too was taking stock of the man she'd chosen as her lover – her Daddy.

All she'd wanted was someone to hold her and love her, to wrap strong arms around her and reassure her that everything would be all right. Amy craved protection, was intimidated by the world at large and possessed a personality that required constant reassurance. It was that requirement that Michael had abused, turning it to his advantage. He'd dominated her, played along with the Daddy game because it got him hot.

Also, for reasons she would never be able to explain – how could she put into words the deep, primordial yearning when she didn't truly understand the need herself? – Amy wanted a baby, a person she could nurture and protect, just as she needed protection from someone she perceived was capable of affording it to her.

But it appeared that Michael had simply been using her for his own ends, his own sexual gratification. She began to see what a manipulative character Michael possessed. Amy saw how selfish the man had been, so completely absorbed in his own needs and desires, and she hated him for it, despised Michael for the weak user he was. 

"But it was more than that," she mumbled at Michael. "You're my Daddy. You're meant to look after me. I thought you knew I wanted a baby. I thought you were going to give me one. Everything you said..."

Amy paused as it all became clear. With every second that passed, Amy understood more and more. 

"You used me," she breathed. "I was just someone to fuck..."

For a brief snatch of time, a few heartbeats the scene hung suspended: Ray and Stephanie were in the beginnings of their kiss, their world condensed as Michael watched, his mouth slack, eyes bulging. Susan grinned with delight; it seemed her little scheme had paid dividends. It was working better than she'd hoped. John watched Michael, ready for any sign of violence from the man – which would be a grave error on Michel's part. And there, still in the doorway, was Amy, mouthing silently, no words coming as she reeled with the epiphany...

...And Omar? Omar had his eyes on Amy. He'd listened to the lovely girl talking about the man being her Daddy, had also heard her say she wanted a baby. 

Such things were in the scope of his understanding; he'd experienced both before. Omar had known women, some a lot older than Amy, with Daddy issues. He didn't understand it but had enjoyed playing the role nonetheless. Therefore he wasn't as surprised as some in the room.

"You want a Daddy, Princess?" Omar said. 

She was just his type – young, stacked, gorgeous. He pursed his lips while he appraised Amy's appeal, taking in every detail of her physical beauty. 

Then Omar made his decision. He said, "You should just come over here to me; I'll be the Daddy you always wanted." Six pair of eyes turned to him, with even Ray and Stephanie, the man's hand under Stephanie's tee-shirt, pausing and breaking away from each other.

Amy's choice to go to the black man came on impulse.

Contrary to her appearance, beneath the pretty face, the boobs and the overall impression of vacuous docility, Amy possessed a sharp brain. She might have been fooled by Michael's apparent sincerity – he was, after all, a master of deceit when it came to women, the consummate player. But other than falling for Michael's very believable bullshit, Amy wasn't as ignorant as people assumed. She had read a few books, learned a few things, and also possessed a natural intelligence.

A phrase popped into her head. It had stuck in her mind, something from a book she'd read on holiday. It had been in one of Stephen King's weighty tomes, the one where Jake Epping, or his alter-ego George Amberson, went down the rabbit hole to stop Lee Ozwald shooting JFK. The phrase had been 'life turns on a dime', which, at that moment, was exactly what occurred for Amy.

Her mind processed the offer. In an instant, the blink of an eye, Amy's brain had recognised the seriousness behind Omar's apparently flippant remark. On the surface it sounded as though Omar was merely asserting dominance over Michael, putting the bastard in his place by intimating that he, Omar, was a far better choice for a Daddy. But Amy heard something in Omar's tone, sensed instinctively that the man understood her. She looked at the length of Omar's cock and experienced a thrill of excitement, a physical rush of desire as, in her mind's eye she pictured that thing inside her, probing so very deep as it pulsed and poured semen into her.

Amy saw and felt and understood everything in the time it took for Michael's face to swivel to regard her. Disgust for him welled with hot, acidic bubbling in her guts and she looked away from the object of her revulsion. Amy couldn't stand to look at him.

"What's your name?" she asked as she walked across the room towards Omar.

On the two-seater sofa, Ray grinned at Stephanie. "You should forget that tosser, too," he muttered. "He ain't worth fuck all."

And Stephanie, with a contemptuous look at Michael, replied with: "I already have."

All the pain and humiliation? Michael wasn't worth the effort. She opened her mouth for the young man's kiss, her hand coming up to clasp against his fingers already squeezing her breast.

"Right now," she murmured in the second before Ray's tongue slid into her mouth, "he doesn't exist."

Standing next to a gape-mouthed Michael, John threw Susan a look.

"Well, what a turn up," he remarked. 

Susan, after blinking with surprise and gawping at Amy and Omar, turned.

"Better than I hoped, John," she muttered. Susan's thoughts raced and she added, "But there's something else I want to try." 

Putting aside the misery the girl had caused her friend, knowing that Michael had been the driving force behind the affair that had caused Stephanie so much angst, Susan then focussed her attention upon Amy. She called the girl's name.

Amy turned, her expression questioning.

"Why don't you join in with our little party, Amy?" Susan asked. She threw Omar a look. "What do you think, Omar? How about you look after our new guest? Why don't you make her feel welcome?"

Omar grinned and nodded. "I can do that, Suze. No problem."

Susan moved closer, squeezing into the gap between Omar and Amy. She pressed her body against Omar's and whispered, "Fuck her, Omar." She lifted his penis, heavy as a fire hose, and squeezed. "Give it all the chat while you do it. Lay it on with the Daddy talk. Make that wanker sick with jealousy."

Omar got it and nodded before Susan broke away to face Amy. 

"Go and sit in that chair," Susan instructed. She pointed to the seat Omar had occupied, her tone commanding as she challenged Amy with her stare. Then she smiled and smoothed a palm over Amy's long black hair. "Take your shorts off," She added, softly. "Open your legs and let Omar lick your pussy."

The girl blinked and looked to Omar for guidance.

"Do it, Princess," Omar said. He smiled and nodded towards the chair. "I'll take care of you. Don't worry about a thing. Nothing bad is going to happen."

Soothed by Omar's gentle coaxing, after all he was her new Daddy, Amy complied. She walked to the chair and, after the briefest hesitation, her shorts dropped to the floor.

"No knickers," John muttered "Fucking hell, she's hot."

"Oh, baby," Omar enthused when he saw Amy's plump pudendum. "Daddy's going to suck that little pussy." He smirked and waggled his cock in his fist. "Then I'm going to give you this ... What do you think?"

"Oh God, Daddy," Amy breathed, her eyes wide and locked on Omar's penis. "Yes ... Yes please!"

Ten

The afternoon pushed on towards early evening, and in the garden just beyond the flagstones of the patio was a large tartan blanket upon which Ray, now divested of his suit, his hard and well-muscled body displayed, knelt behind Stephanie. The woman was also nude, on her hands and knees, hips thrust high to offer herself. Ray's fingers were clamped tight to Stephanie's hips, his cock, sheathed in a condom provided by the ever-thoughtful Susan, moved like a piston.

"We don't want you getting caught with a pussy full of sperm," the blonde had chuckled to Stephanie, before scattering several foil packets onto the lawn.

Now, with Stephanie moaning and panting, Susan smiled at John. "Look at her," she remarked, indicating the couple on the blanket. "I don't think I'd have believed it if I didn't see it. What a change in attitude."

John, naked himself, chuckled and wrapped his arms around Susan, his hard-on wedged into the grease of her buttocks. The heels of Susan's shoes, which she still wore along with her bra at John's request, pecked at the stones as she widened her stance, bracing herself against John's heavy presence behind her. She sighed and murmured something indecipherable when his hands scooped beneath her breasts, her eyes locked on a sight she loved.

"We saw that wanker off," John mumbled. He nuzzled against Susan's neck, licking the soft skin and causing Susan to purr with pleasure.

"Thank you for putting the word to him," Susan replied.

John squeezed pliant breast-flesh with one hand while the other hand slid over Susan's stomach towards her vulva. "No trouble at all, Suze. Not for you."

Susan sighed and squirmed, craning so she could offer John her mouth while his fingers slid through labia slick with arousal.

It had been a coup for Susan, the idea quickly forming before she'd ordered Amy to sit and spread her legs. She had wanted to make Michael suffer for all the hurt he had caused, and what better way than to have his wife suck the cocktail of lust from Omar's cock after he'd been wedged inside Amy?

Stephanie, a little reluctant at first, had acquiesced with a little coaxing.

"It'll make that bastard sick with jealousy," Susan had whispered. "Go on, Steph. Forget about Amy for now, she's just a young woman. If you want to hate her, do it later, once we've taught Michael a real lesson."

Stephanie had seen the arched eyebrows and the nod from Ray, had seen Susan's intent and so, finally agreed.

It had been easier to persuade Amy to take Omar's cock while everyone watched. She was overwhelmed at the possibilities, excited at the thought of a gorgeous and so obviously virile Daddy. Better yet was the prospect of Omar's seed finding her and giving her what she so desperately wanted.

John had loomed over Michael, his bulk threatening while the man had been forced to sit in one of the chairs, made to witness Amy's face twisted with that look of pained intensity that meant she loved the sensation of the black man penetrating her.

"That's your bird my mate's fucking," John muttered, his hand on Michael's shoulder. "See that, you cunt? Look at her, watch her while my mate gives her the good news." 

John chuckled and squeezed Michael's shoulder in an almost friendly gesture. 

Not that Michael mistook the pressure of John's fingers for anything other than a threat, he wasn't stupid. "Oh God," he groaned, closing his eyes to the awful sight. His stomach rolled, he thought he was about to spew onto the carpet.

"Open your eyes," John had growled. "It's about to get better."

With a morbid fascination holding his gaze, Michael then watched as Amy, following a whispered instruction from Susan, blinked with confusion before easing off Omar's cock.

He saw the gloopy residue, the gooey froth that clung to the dark shaft, Amy's lust that had foamed between her insides and the black man's long piston as they'd fucked. Michael groaned, the corrosive jealousy rising in his throat, his chest swelling with outrage when, at another murmur from Susan, his own wife knelt and sucked Omar's swollen cock-head.

"No ... No, Stephanie," Michael wailed when the woman's pink tongue lapped up the dollop of cream clinging to the shaft.

"Shut up, Michael," Stephanie had snapped. "You had yours, now I'm having mine. I'm going to fuck that hot young man over there." She pointed at Ray. "And if I want to, I'll fuck this, too."

"I think," interjected Susan, "that it's time for him to leave, John." She gave a toss of her head in the direction of the front door at the front of the house. "Make sure the gates are closed behind him, there's a darling."

And John, after hauling Michael to his feet, had unceremoniously dumped Michael onto the front steps.

"See that Range Rover?" he'd said. "Any damage to that when I get in it later and I'll be looking for you." He jabbed a finger into Michael's chest, hard. "And if I get to hear from Suze that you've been a cunt and bothered her or the other two girls..." 

John sniggered, a sound that chilled Michael as he saw the menace in the steely glint of John's eyes. "Then I'll be paying you a visit. You don't want me to do that, trust me. It wouldn't be a pleasant experience for you."

John then turned Michael away from the door and, with a shove in the buttocks with his shoe, sent the humiliated man stumbling towards the drive.

"Now, fuck off."

When John returned to the party, Omar was naked and thrusting into Amy. The girl's feet were waggling, her knees hooked over the chair arms while the black man held himself over her awkwardly crumpled body with his weight on his toes. Omar's long cock probed deep, a sight, John noticed, that had Susan enraptured.

While that went on Stephanie was slipping her loose trousers down her legs, Ray almost shredding his clothes in eagerness.

Susan, when his presence eventually registered, had sidled up to John and kissed him. "Let's go into the garden," she murmured. "I'll bring drinks and we can all fuck outside."

So there he was, outside, hands full of Susan, her tongue sliding with his, the front of his naked body pressed against her back while the other two couples shagged with uninhibited abandon.

"I love watching people fuck," Susan groaned, when the soft, lingering kiss broke. "Almost as much as I enjoy fucking, I love watching."

Wriggling free of John's embrace Susan walked to the table. She placed a hand on Omar's shoulder, her eyes staring at Amy's pussy stretched tight and scarlet around the chocolate length sliding in and out of her body.

Amy's eyes flickered open, mouth hanging slack. She was on the table, her fingers gripping the edge while Omar stood between her legs, his hands tight around her brisket. She regarded Susan through heavy-lidded eyes, her expression glazed.

"God, Omar," Susan murmured into the man's ear. "I'm so envious. I wish it was me getting fucked by that lovely cock of yours. Amy looks like she's loving it." She touched Omar's cheek and turned his face to hers. "Please give me some of it before you boys leave tonight. Just a little fuck between new friends before you go."

Amy moaned as she watched her Daddy and Susan kiss. There was no jealousy at all in the sound, if Susan wanted to experience Omar's cock, Amy didn't mind. As long as she had her new Daddy – and his semen – she was happy to share.

"Fuck me, Daddy," Amy mumbled. "Deeper. Put it in as far as you can go. Stretch my pussy."

Omar gasped and stared down at the girl. He swallowed heavily when he registered the look on her face and saw the lust in her stare.

"I've got to give it to her," Omar muttered to Susan. He shifted his feet and hooked the back of Amy's knees higher over his arms, spreading her thighs so he could probe deeper.

The table began to rock, its feet skreeking against the flagstones.

"Then give it to her," Susan sighed. She began to rub her own vulva, fingers sliding over slick flesh.

The John was by her side, and Susan used a hand on his cock, yanking at him while she stared at the couple rutting away, her finger urgent against her clit.

"Look at them fucking," Susan grunted to nobody in particular, simply voicing her thoughts. "She's so lovely and he's just filling her with that big cock." She moaned and winced, chewing on her bottom lip as she imagined her own cunt being stuffed with black cock. "Oh, you lucky bitch," Susan grunted.

Omar was wincing and hissing by then. His eyes rolled and he gasped, the wet squelch of Amy's body around his girth reaching his ears. He looked at Susan, his face drooping with the exquisite agony of the girl tight around him.

"You're going to come?" Susan breathed. "Aren't you, Omar, you're going to do it."

When Susan moved close, desperate to kiss Omar while he squirted semen into Amy, she rubbed harder at herself and felt her own climax surge.

Throughout it all, while Omar grunted and his whole body tensed, while he growled and thrust and his cock pumped jizm into Amy, Susan managed to climax and maintain the cranking motion against John's cock.

"Shit," Susan heard John say. "Susan ... I'm going to--"

Amy was yelping and crying out with delight when she felt Omar thrust deep. He was doing it, flooding her with his seed!

"Yes!" Amy shouted, her stomach tensed as she looked down along her body to where she could see her Daddy's cock, balls deep inside her. "Come inside me," she cried. "Give it to me. All of it!"