1 comments/ 44472 views/ 1 favorites Mystery Girl By: bigman_569 There I am, fast asleep in Holly's, my Fiancé, queen bed, passed out after working all night in the law office preparing for some upcoming cases and getting home just in time to kiss my baby good morning as she woke up to head off to her job with a defense contractor in the heart of Washington DC. As I lay in bed, I hear the water in the bathroom turn off and my baby toweling off. I also hear a door creak open, reminding me I needed to do some massive house maintenance. As I quickly fall back a sleep, I hear my fiancé come out of the bathroom, most likely naked with her luscious 36B breasts proudly waving and her hairless pussy glistening from the hot shower. Her body is very slim and she stands about 5'9" and the only place where there is any fat is in her ass which drives most men absolutely insane. As she walks to her closet, I hear a small gasp which causes me to wake up once again. Groggily, I open my eyes and see a figure in the doorframe, a figure that at that moment is still very unclear to me. My girlfriend walks over to the figure and I hear the sound of kissing, Holly was always a great kisser and I could tell the sound of her kiss over any noise. As I come to my senses, I realize I am not dreaming but my fiancé is kissing someone in the doorway, as I sleep no more than 10feet away from her. Looking up from the bed finally gaining my senses, I notice a beautiful blond woman; she is about 5'8 and 120 lbs with some of the softest blue eyes I have ever seen. The blond goddess begins to suck on Holly's luscious firm tits, kissing the underside of her breast up to the nipple. Her tongue begins to flick her nipple on her tit as her hand caresses the other. Her mouth changes sides and Holly begins to moan in pleasure. The woman then drops to her knees and begins to lick Holly's beautiful pussy. Taking her tongue and sliding it down her tight stomach the blond bombshell passes over my fiancé's clit causing her body to shake. The woman licks Holly's pussy from top to bottom, letting her tongue slide between her pussy lips and taste her sweet nectars. The woman quickly lays down on her back and brings my fiancé's pussy down to her mouth wanting to eat her right. The woman nibbles on Holly's pussy lips and sucks at her clit, while a finger slides into her tight vagina. I instinctively reach down and begin to stroke my throbbing cock while I watched my fiancé be eaten right in front of me. The woman brings Holly to orgasm by biting down on her pussy lips and slamming 3 fingers into her tight pussy, stretching her to the limits. My fiancé screamed in pleasure, as the woman continues to finger her through the orgasm. Holly finally grabs the woman's fingers and sucks her own juices off of her fingers. After tasting her sweet juices, the two women got up and my fiancé removes the women's tight red sweater exposing the perfect breasts, they are 36D with the perfect areola and nipples standing out obviously turned on by the events. Holly begins to suck on her tits while I drift off into my own world no longer trying to hide the fact that I am awake. The two girls notice and the woman tried to walk away; obviously coming to Holly's only for her, but my fiancé quickly grabs her by the hand and leads her to the bed. Holly lays the woman down on the bed next to me and removes her jean skirt. I quickly sit up with my 7 inch cock standing at full mast and Holly began to lick the woman's pussy. She has a beautiful brown landing patch guiding Holly's tongue to her pussy. Instinctively, not knowing anything else, I begin to suck on her beautiful breasts, flicking and nibbling on her nipples while Holly's tongue explores her pussy. The woman is soaking wet as Holly kisses me letting me taste this woman's sweet juices. Holly and I both drop down to her pussy, spreading her legs wide apart. Our tongues lick and twist inside of her pussy, overwhelmed by the feeling of two powerful tongues working her pussy, the blond forces both of our faces deeper into her pussy as her juices flow out of her. Her cum tastes so sweet and I drink every ounce I can. Holly meanwhile, goes to her dresser and grabs something I have never seen before. She had always told me of her bisexual history, but I had never before actually experienced it. When she walks over to me continuing to eat this mystery woman's delicious pussy, I see that she has grabbed a double-sided dildo that makes her pussy drip even more. Sitting up, our new friend lets me slide the massive toy deep in her pussy. I then slide my fiancé on to the other side. Seeing Holly's eyes roll to the back of her head, I can tell she has been needing a large object deep in her pussy, I can only hope my waiting cock is next. Holly and the blond rock against each other slamming the dildo into the other deep and hard. I have never seen my fiancé ram against another individual harder than she was right now, trying to impale this woman with her massive dildo. Their rhythm begins to slow down and turn to a grind so I take this opportunity to stand up and bring my hard cock to Holly's mouth. She sucks on my tip, tasting the precum that had formed there a long time ago. All of a sudden, in one gulp, she engulfs my entire 7 inches, nearly choking herself. As she bobs up and down on my cock, I feel a hand reach between my legs and squeeze my massive balls. The woman who had tried to avoid my cock was now fondling my balls while the love of my life fucks her brains out and sucks on my cock. Before long Holly's mouth drifts down to my balls and she sucks on the woman's fingers and my balls at the same time, forming a vacuum around both. Feeling adventurous the woman without warning presses her finger next to my ass pushing on my tight asshole. I look back at her and she gives me a look that warns if I protest, I would not be happy so I let her press on my tight brown hole as Holly continues to suck me and fuck her. After another round of orgasms the woman comes around and begins to pump my cock into Holly's mouth looking up at me with her beautiful blue eyes and Holly giving the look that she knows drives me crazy. As my cock explodes into Holly's mouth the woman pulls it out and wants to taste my juices herself. She and holly kiss passionately, as I fall backwards on the bed completely exhausted when it hits me exactly who this woman is... Mystery Girl He had been looking at her for the past twenty minutes. She was in a conversation that seemed to be boring her. "Why don't you just go talk to her?" asked his best friend Mike. "Because I don't know her, and she already has someone entertaining her." Ken replied with some attitude. "Well it doesn't seem like she wants his company." He replied looking her way." Or you could go over and offer to buy her a drink." Ken knew Mike was just trying to help but it was becoming irritating. He had been with Tonya for three years, and not sure if the break up would be permanent. "Look, find out her name and I'll go talk to her." Ken replied, looking away from the mystery girl. Mike looked at him skeptically, then decided he meant it. "I'm serious Ken. If I find out her name and you don't go talk to her, I'm going to knock some teeth out." Mike looked out at the crowd, "come on!" Mike had pulled him through the crowd to some girl named Ana, "Ay yo, Ana!" Mike yelled over the music. Ana was an average sized girl with straight hair, almond shaped eyes, full lips, a body men craved and most women envied. Tonight she wore a red halter top, a mini skirt and strap heels. "Yo Ana, who is that girl over there by the bar?" he said pointing to the mystery girl. "Oh, that's my girl Kay," she replied with a Spanish accent. "She don't talk to a lot of guys, she picky." She looked over at Kay and waved when she looked. "so if you trying to get with her, you have to have the right equipment," she said looking back at them. "Oh, she's not for me, Ken been looking all night. I just thought I'd help him out. I am looking at something I like though." He replied winking at her. "Well, I think I can help you and Ken out with your problems," she replied winking back. Grabbing both by the hand, she led them over to the bar. "Kay!" Ana yelled. Kay looked towards them with thankful eyes. "Hey Kay, these are my friends," she pulled Mike and me in front of her. "This is Mike," she tapped his arm "and Ken." She said tapping Ken's arm. "Hey," Mike and Ken both said at the same time. "You looked bored with that guy, so I thought I'd bring Ken over to keep you company." She pushed me forward. With a confused look on her face she said, "Um... ok, hi Ken." "Well ok then, Mike and I are going to go dance and you can talk with Ken; how does that sound, great!" she winked at me and pulled Mike away to the dance floor. He looked down to see that Kay was staring up at him. "Um..do..do you want to go sit down?" He asked timidly. She nodded yes, so Ken led her to the table he had sat at with Mike. After a few silent minutes he looked back at Kay. She seemed to be in deep thought. "Are you alright?" he asked. "Um, yeah. It's just that Ana going to end up leaving with Mike and she drove me here. Even though I told her I didn't want to come." She looked at Ken. "I can drive you home," he suggested. "I don't even want to be there. They are going to end up going home and doing the...well you know." She replied with distaste. "You can stay at mine and Mike's place until the morning," he offered. She looked at him and he could tell she was going to say something smart. "WHAT KIND OF--" she began only for me to cut her off. "Look, I didn't mean it that way. I just was saying you could stay there for the night or I could leave you here." He replied defending himself. They both looked up at the surroundings when a guy walked by and winked at her Looking back at Ken with shock and disgust she said, "Ok then, I think I'm going with you." On the way back to Ken's house they talked about random things; music, how they met thier best friends, parents and more. When they reached the house, they went inside. "Um, you have three options to sleep," he said looking at her. She was looking around the room and then her eyes landed on him again. "What are they?" she asked. He sat down on the couch then replied "My room, Mike's room or the couch." She sat down beside him "Wherever you think is more comfortable." She replied. He looked at her then replied "Well, my room would be more ideal; for the simple fact that I don't know how Mike's room looks and the couch may hurt your back." "Where will you sleep?" she asked "I can withstand either one." "Ok then," she said looking around. "one question." "Yeah?" "Where is the bathroom?" Looking at her and the back to the TV, "Come on ill show you." Turning off the TV, he went to the stairs with her following. They went up stairs and stopped at the first door on the right. "Here we are." "Thanks." Kay walked into the bathroom, locked the door and walked over to the sink. She splashed cold water on her face, and then used a tissue to take off her mascara. After drying her face and hands, she took one last look in the mirror and left the bathroom. Walking out of the bathroom, she ran into Ken. "Oh my god!" she gasped "I'm sorry I didn't realize you were standing there." When she spoke, there was a hint of a Spanish accent her didn't hear before. "It's ok, now I know next time not to stand so close." He laughed. "Why were you standing there in the first place?" she asked with a hint of anger. "I was waiting so I could show you where you were going to sleep." Searching his face, she saw that he was just trying to be nice. "Well then, lead on." Ken looked at her, then chuckled. Thinking to himself, 'Boy did I pick up a feisty one.' Leading Kay to the room he was saying to himself, 'Wow, don't I have to thank Ana and Mike for this one.' Reaching the room, Ken said, "here we are." Looking around the room, Ken thought his room was fine. It had a king sized bed, 2 dressers, a nightstand, a chair and a 24 inch flat screen TV. Looking around the room then at him she said, "looks perfect." "I'll be back in a few minutes," he stated walking out the door. Kay put her purse down on the long dresser, then moved to looked around the room. Ken returned a few minutes later with new bed sheets, a blanket and pillow cases. He put the stuff down, then started to strip the bed. "Do you want help?" she asked Looking over his shoulder, he said, "No it's ok, just sit down." She watched him move about, the whole time wondering why he was being so nice. Ken finished the bed then looked at her; she seemed to be in deep thought as before. "Well the bed is made," he said examining her face. Shaking her head she looked at him and then the bed, "Oh okay, thanks again." Ken searched her face for any reason on why she had zoned out. "Do you always do that?" he finally asked. Looking at him with surprise, "What do you mean?" "Do you zone out all the time? Because, It seems like you do it a lot." Still searching her face for an answer he moved over to the long dresser. Opening the first drawer he had grabbed a pair of boxers. Closing that drawer he open another, and pulled out sleeping pants and a shirt. He looked Kay up and down then asked, "Do you want a shirt or something?" "Um...sure" Ken handed her the shirt and she smiled at him. Looking at her he realized she had a nice smile and a dimple on her left cheek. Ken stared at her, becoming captivated by her beauty. She had dark brown tight curled hair, perfect lips, not quite almond shaped eyes, a light caramel complexion, and to top it off, a perfectly shaped body. Realizing he was staring, he turned to look at the clock on the nightstand, it read 12:30. "Well I guess you probably want to go to sleep. I'm going to take a shower and watch some TV downstairs, so if you need me, I'll be in either place," he said, walking out the room and closing the door behind him. Walking down the hallway he thought, 'Wow a beautiful girl in my bedroom. How did I even manage that? Oh yeah Mike and Ana wanted to be nosy.' Once he reached the bathroom, he stripped out of his clothes and turned on mostly cold water. Even though it was more than he could handle, he just wanted the thoughts out of his head. Twenty minutes later, he got out, dried himself off, dressed and went downstairs. About an hour and a half had passed, finding nothing to watch, he settled for an old comedy. From the stairs he heard someone call him. "Ken?" Looking at her with awe, he replied, "Yes, Kay." "I couldn't sleep, so I thought that you could keep me company," she replied looking like a little kid. "Um... sure, what did you have in mind?" "I just thought we could talk some more and hopefully I would end up sleeping." Looking at her wearing his shirt, waiting for him; seeing her like that brought back a feeling he only had with Tonya. Looking her over one more time he asked, "Do you want to stay down here or go upstairs?" "Upstairs would be better I guess." Ken turned off the TV and light, and followed her up the stairs. Ken had fallen back on purpose, just so he could see the way she moved. Once they reached the room, Kay crawled under the blanket, while Ken laid on top. Ken laid on his back and crossed his arm over his eyes. Feeling someone looking at him, he looked over at Kay. She was propped up on her right arm looking at him. "Hey, you have hazel eyes! I hadn't noticed," She exclaimed "Changes depending on my mood," he replied covering his eyes again. "Oh," she said looking at his face. "What are you feeling right now?" Uncovering his eyes and looking at her he replied, "A lot more than I realized." Feeling that the conversation was getting personal, Kay changed the subject. Once again they talked about random things until Kay fell asleep. Looking down at Kay, he thought, 'This is a great girl and I hope this isn't a one night thing.' As if sensing he was thinking about her she moved closer to him; which made some of her hair fall in her face. Gently, he pushed it out her face, but her reaction surprised him. She put her head on his chest and slung her arm over his middle. Still shocked by what she'd done, he waited a few minutes until he felt she was sleeping again. After a few moments, he wrapped his arm around her waist. 'Definitely something I don't want to lose!" he thought to himself. Mystery Girl This one is a bit longer than my last effort, and be warned that it has a plot of sorts, and leaves you with a bit of a mystery at the end. Not much sex but a bit of titivating just to keep you interested. I could have put this somewhere else than Loving Wives, but I sort of like it here. +++++++++++ I'd like to introduce myself but I think it might not be advisable at this stage. I'd like to be able to tell you the name of the eastern European country this report revolves around, but for me, my life is far too precious. Too precious to risk my name to being added to the list of people that had died already in the name of democracy... Apparently! Let's just say that I am a political journalist, and that you may well have seen my face on current affairs programs if you watch the BBC or possibly even CNN. That or maybe read one of my articles in one of the more serious newspapers. Nuff said! ______________ My story starts when I applied to the appropriate government ministry for an interview with the boss man there, to discuss the unsettled political situation in one of the countries bordering Russia. A country that had originally been part of the Soviet Empire, but that had split off some time after the fall of the Berlin Wall, and was then enjoying, if that was the correct description, an uneasy courtship with the West. Unsure which way to lean, but attracted by the European Union, and in particular by the carrot of membership of currency union. This was all of course before the Euro lost much of its glamorous appeal. Half expecting to be diverted to the top man's number two, at least till they found out what angle I was pushing, I was surprised and just a little disappointed to be given a time and a place to meet a man I'd never heard of, and for that matter couldn't find any immediate record of. Strange, but such is the world of both politics and journalism. Mr Smith, and yes that was John Smith of course, turned out to be a man of around my own age, let's say latish thirties or so, and not the dowdy office bound type that I'd expected. In my profession you learn to size up people pretty quickly, and I got the impression that he was more a man of action perhaps, and a man that women would naturally feel attracted to. "So you want our opinion on the current state of affairs over there do you," he stated rather than asked, getting straight down to business in his clipped British Public school accent. Yes," I replied. "It would be a good idea to start off with the British Government's real opinion rather than just the official line that you've been giving out." "So that you can misquote us?" he came back, the smile on his face telling me that he wasn't that serious, but that even so, I had to be cautious. "I have signed the official secrets act already," I informed him, though I was pretty sure he'd already be aware of that. "You can invoke that if there's something that the ministry wants airing unofficially." "I think you can take that as read otherwise you wouldn't be here," Smith went on. "And there is something you could help us with and it could be to your advantage." "I'm listening," I confirmed my willingness, pretty sure that it wouldn't only be to my advantage.. "Are you recording this?" He asked, and I confirmed that I was, a little surprised that he raised no objection. "How would you like a private interview with Edin Pjanic?" He asked, my eyes raising at the prospect of actually meeting the very elusive and super rich number two in the country in question. Not his real name of course for reasons mentioned above. "That's nigh on impossible of course," he shot my hopes down in flames, before I'd even formulated my answer. "But a meeting with his wife might be." I've years of experience of keeping my feelings in check, and am pretty good at it. But a meeting with ... Let's call her Helen shall we ... Well that shocked me. Shocked me to the core. "They say she's American," I probed, the stories and rumours surrounding the stunningly beautiful Mrs Pjanic spinning round my head. The prospect of such an exclusive story, causing me involuntarily to lean forward in my seat towards him. "Thought that would get you," he grinned back at me, knowing he had my rapt attention. "The beautiful and mysterious Helen Pjanic, so called wife to Edin Pjanic, sometime mistress to the president and possibly half their senior government, and probably, currently, the most sought after woman by the world's eager press. They do say that she holds the country's destiny in her hands. Beauty and power in one such person is intoxicating, especially when nobody seems to know where she came from." "I noticed that you said 'so called wife to Edin Pjanic'," I pointed out, never one to miss a nuance in general conversation. "Surely they are married?" "They got married," Smith confirmed emphasizing 'got', but offering no more. "So she is Mrs Pjanic then?" I probed cautiously, wondering where on earth this conversation was going, though never in a million years would I have guessed where it was about to go. "Possibly not since she's still married to me," Smith stunned me with. "I'm not aware that either of us applied for a divorce, so the question of whether or not she actually is Mrs Pjanic or not, is therefore debateable." The next few minutes passed in a bit of a dream as I tried to take in the implications of what he'd just told me. The information I already had would make a world exclusive. But I had nothing other than Smith's word, and I knew he could disappear into thin air if he wanted to. I needed more. I was being set up and we both knew it, but this story was too hot to let go of. "Let me tell you a story," he said at last, and I shut up, placing my recorder out in front of him, making sure that he knew he was giving me this information freely. If I knew then what I know now, then I would have known why it didn't worry him. ----- Smith's story, verbatim, as I recorded it that day. Helen and I met at university when she spent a year on secondment there from her college in USA. We fell in love and married soon after we both graduated. As you know I work for the British Government, and her for an American organisation in London, but in a similar field to me. Several years in, and still emotionally and physically still very much in love we took a holiday and booked a week in a certain eastern European country, only very recently freed from the yoke of Russian imperialism. Not surprisingly they were short of foreign currency, and were offering very inexpensive stays in their historical and beautiful capital city, access for so long denied to the people from the west. We spent our days touring the city, some of the first western tourists ever to do so, taking in the sights and visiting museums and art galleries that took our breath away. The evenings were taken up eating in gloriously decorated old restaurants, the food seldom up to what we were used to back in London, but the surroundings and enthusiasm of the service more than making up for it. We went onto a few clubs and bars, but back in those days there was something somehow lacking, even though I got a kick out of the attention Helen received, clad in her short, and by their standards at that time, rather revealing dresses. The quite open jealous looks of the women who simply couldn't buy clothes like that yet, and for the most part wouldn't compare to Helen even if they could, contrasting with the stolen lustful looks of the men at her and the envious glances at me. Then we heard about the 'Hungry Goose' club, which only much later did I find out was a rip off of the 'Hungry Duck' club in Moscow. Not that I'd heard of that place at the time. "Let's go," Helen giggled after the guy at the hotel had told us about it. "No way Helen," I responded. "A male strip club? No bloody way." "Oh come on," she encouraged me. "I went to that lap dance club with you, so you can go with me to this club." "Not the same thing," I protested. "I jolly well hope not," Helen laughed aloud, grinning at me. Didn't have a leg to stand on of course, so a few hours later found us entering the rather dubious looking portals of the Hungry Goose club. Looked a bit sleazy at night with the fancy lights on, so Lord knows what it would have looked like in the cold light of day. Then, much to my surprise I found that I had to pay an admittedly miniscule entrance fee, while Helen went in free. What sort of Male strip club was this I asked myself. I was soon to find out. Inside was more like a huge pub than a conventional club, with a big central bar that everything happened around. Before my eyes had even adjusted, Helen grabbed my hand and tugged me through the crowd to get closer to the action. The action in question being a couple of guys who looked like weight lifters prancing around with very little on. Little enough that I personally wouldn't have wished to stand comparison. "Wow!" giggled Helen. "Just look at that." "I'd rather not," I confessed, concentrating on trying to get some drinks in. "Oh my God! What are they going to do now?" Helen squealed, and I grunted non-committedly, not at all keen on studying other guy's junk. "Look honey, look," she cried, hopping from one foot to another. "Look or you'll miss it." "Fine," I mumbled to myself, not wanting to have anything to do with it. If Helen was enjoying herself then fine, but for me I didn't want to look, especially bearing in mind how close Helen had dragged us to the stage. Yuk! "Oh my God what are they going to do to that girl?" However, did get my attention. "Oh they're not, not really," she gasped. "She's not going to let them take her bra off." I turned. Bet your bloody life I did. Up on the stage with the two hunks was a girl, maybe in her twenties. She didn't look like a stripper, and certainly wasn't dressed like one, other than the fact that most of her clothing had been removed. She was giggling and making a pretty token attempt at fighting them off, as one of them held her and the other one removed her bra. Nice tits! "What the hell's going on?" I demanded of Helen. "That girl," she explained excitedly. "They pulled her out of the audience and are stripping her." Damn it! "Look honey, the dark guy's pulling her panties down." And he did! For the next few minutes they paraded the now quite naked and very embarrassed young woman around the stage, displaying her nude body to all and sundry. They then handed her down from the stage, still starkers, to some happy looking guy in the audience who I can only suppose was her boyfriend or husband. There was lots of cheering and the girl disappeared around the stage, hopefully to retrieve her clothes, closely followed by the chap who had been holding her. "Happy now?" Helen giggled. "Better than I expected," I admitted. Ten minutes later and another couple of equally muscular guys jumped up on the stage, strutted their stuff for a while and then started making overtures to the various girls clustered round. Some of the more enthusiastic ones were young, for the two strippers too young perhaps for what they had in mind, but eventually a group of young women pushed one of their number forward and caught the guy's attention. Despite the girl's shrieks of protest, that even to me, not speaking whatever language she was using, didn't sound too desperate, they hauled her up onto the stage. To my surprise, even though I'd just witnessed the previous event, the girl twisted and struggled, giggling wildly as the two of them, article by article stripped her naked. The previous woman hadn't been too bad, but this one was a real looker. Long legs, slim waist and nice full breasts, all of which despite her feeble attempts to prevent it, were gradually exposed to the cheering crowd round the stage, and none of them louder than the group of women that she had pretty obviously arrived with. I'd been to a few strip clubs and even a couple of so called amateur nights, but I'd never seen anything like this before. They were simply plucking girls from the audience and stripping them, and there seemed to be girls queuing up to be chosen. The girl, still in the nude, safely handed back down to her group of friends who may or may not have recovered her clothes, the same two male performers started looking round for a new victim. It was about this time that it dawned on me that probably the prettiest female gathered round the stage was my wife Helen! I suspect that the two buggers up on the stage had already realised that, her shimmering long blonde hair, long slim bare legs in her little mini skirt, full round breasts in her tight skimpy top hard to miss. One of them called out something undecipherable to her, as he offered his hand to pull her up onto the stage. "Oh my God no!" She cried out, taking a step back, a frightened look on her face. "Come on pretty lady," he encouraged her, this time in English, in a heavily accented, deep voice. "I couldn't," Helen squealed, looking round at me for support, her face flushed and excited. "Tell him I can't honey." "Tell her she can," he addressed me, grinning wildly at me, recognising me as her escort. "Tell her you want her to." If Helen was excited, then I was off the scale. I did try to say no, knew I had to say no, but when my mouth opened no words came out. My mouth was suddenly parched dry, and I struggled to swallow to lubricate my throat to be able to voice my objection. "Can I?" Two short words from Helen; just four letters in total, but they were to change my life, and they encouraged me to make the worst mistake of my life. I shrugged my shoulders. Unable to trust my voice because my mouth was still so dry, I simply shrugged my shoulders. It wasn't a yes, but equally and more important it wasn't a no either, and before I could react further, my wife offered up her hands, and the two of them hauled her bodily up onto the stage. Suddenly, the whole place seemed to go quiet as the crowd realised that this wasn't just a pretty local girl up there, but a beautiful young woman, and one from the still relatively unknown, and therefore seemingly exotic outside world. From that moment I began to regret my decision, or to be more accurate my indecision. "Helen," I called out to attract her attention as they enticed her away down the bar some. But all that did was to give her name away, and the crowd started to chant out her name. "Helen ... Helen ... Helen.." For months afterwards I woke up in a sweat with that chant ringing in my ears. Woke up alone in my bed I might add. I've tried, but I find it impossible to properly describe my emotions while I watched the action as it played out on the stage. Unable to do anything about it, while frustration, excitement, regret, disgust, pride, anger, lust, uncertainty and a whole multitude of feelings coursed through me. I watched as the pair of them toyed with Helen, teasing her far more than with the other two girls, aware that she was something really special, and milking the excited crowd for all they were worth. It was as if a Miss World had unexpectedly turned up to an amateur night at a strip club. The previous girl they had stripped naked in less than ten minutes, but with Helen they took their time. Oh boy did they take their time, relishing every button they theatrically undid, and every catch they snapped open with a flourish. Roaring out to the crowd as they eased her top up and off over the top of her head, grinning fiendishly as her skimpy, little, ridiculously expensive bra came into view, a symbol of the decadent west that they were only just beginning to be exposed to. I didn't see what happened to the top, but several minutes later when they did eventually support Helen and help her as she stepped out of her little leather mini skirt, I was shocked to see one of them throw it into the crowd, an excited group of young women scrambling for it, a real and almost unobtainable trophy not yet freely available in their shops. That's when I really got worried. That's when I knew that going there that evening had not been a good idea at all. This was going way beyond the humiliation of seeing my wife stripped naked in front of a crowd of excited foreigners. Her bra gone, cast off into the crowd again, and Helen unaware or perhaps beyond caring what was happening to her clothes. The women in the crowd fighting to claim some article of western fashion, the men eager to get a first glance at a genuine pair of naked female American breasts. Helen wasn't as well endowed as the centrefolds they'd no doubt poured over for years in smuggled in copies of Playboy or whatever, but she was equally beautiful, her breasts high and tight, firm and pert but large enough to bounce around playfully as the two guys enjoyed themselves as they paraded her around the stage for all to appreciate. They played it till the end, the crowd having grown, perhaps as word went round the other rooms in the club, the chants of 'Helen' drowned out by the huskier shouts of encouragement. The realisation that my wife could end up getting gang raped in the next few minutes bought tears of frustration to my eyes as my impotance to do anything about it crashed home to me. They toyed unmercifully with her last piece of clothing. These guys knew what they were doing, having no doubt stripped many girls naked on that same stage, and they used every tease they could think of. They gave the onlookers flash after flash and glimpse after glimpse of Helen's most private parts, the ones closer to the stage going wild as they realised that my wife had a shaved pussy. Helen's earlier bravado, suddenly deserting her as she fought to keep her panties in place, her efforts only adding to the excitement of the crowd. One of her tormenters, laughing wildly, took both her bare breasts in his hands and squeezed them roughly. Helen raised her hands to ward him off, only for the other guy, my wife's panties suddenly freed from her clutches, took advantage and quickly slid them down her legs. Then they could all see it. And the devil who eventually took them off threw them to one of his colleagues, the previous two male strippers having come out to watch the spectacle. I doubted whether she'd be getting them back any time soon, if ever. It had been an unfair struggle and Helen with a giggle accepted her fate, standing there naked, confronting the pair of them with her hands on her hips as if to challenge them as to what they were going to do next. There she was, my sweet young wife, naked on that stage for all to see, them holding onto a hand each so she couldn't cover herself up, not that she seemed minded to anyway. Her high heels which had somehow survived only adding to the tableau. It had to end soon. I prayed for it to end soon, confused by the hardness of my obvious erection, unable to deny that her erotic display had effected me as it had every man there. Unable to pretend that my wife being stripped stark naked in front of a baying crowd hadn't raised the lust in me to boiling point. But I wanted it to end, even though I was terrified of what would happen to her when it did. In a final flourish, the other two strippers joined them and all four of them took hold of Helen and held her aloft, abandoning the pretence that they weren't feeling her all over, twisting her to and fro above their heads, her squeals of excitement audible even above the noise of the crowd. The final scene was of my wife held up high, horizontally, her back arched, her tits stretched tight and her legs held wide apart in a final ultimate erotic display. My sigh of relief as they gently released her back onto her feet was cut off as one by one they took her in their arms, pulled her close and kissed her fiercely, while the other three stroked and pawed at her naked body. Mystery Girl Then it was over and the crowd fell silent, but little did I know that my torment was only beginning. They led her to the edge of the stage, and much as they had with the previous two girls they handed her down into the crowd. But they didn't hand her back to me! Fighting my way to the point twenty feet further down the stage where Helen had disappeared into a flurry of welcoming hands, and expecting the worst, I was surprised to see my wife being carried away by an extremely large man. He barged his way through the throng, all keen to grope whatever part of her body they could reach as he pushed by, but none of them making any attempt to stop them. My attempts to follow them were not so easy. I was probably further behind them than when I'd started when I saw him, her long bare legs with her high heels hanging out one side of him, and her long blonde tresses the other, as he disappear through a large door with the letters VIP marked clearly above it. By the time I got there, I found there to be two very large and unfriendly looking thuggish types standing there clearly guarding the door. My efforts to pass them did not even warrant any comment, simply a push in my chest, which sent me reeling back. I can't begin to describe my anguish. I caused a fuss and got another shove for my efforts, somewhat harder this time, totally frustrated by my inability to explain that they had my wife back there. To my relief some more human looking guy came up, ordered the two hulks off me and informed me in almost perfect English that the VIP was a reserved area. I explained to him, blubbered really, what my problem was, almost crying with relief that someone was at last listening to me. "The beautiful American lady is really your wife?" He asked when I ground to a halt. I assured him that she was, and he gave me a look that was strangely kind but full of pity. It was a look that sent icicles through my insides. "I'll see what I can do," he promised me. "But there are some very powerful men in there this evening." "But she's my wife," I protested. "This isn't England or America," he replied simply, silencing me, and leaving me standing there as he tapped in a code on the door and disappeared, my half effort to follow him blocked off by the two door-guards. The next twenty minutes seemed like hours as I stood there, with the two thugs glaring at me, seemingly pissed off that they couldn't just eject me. When the man came back out he had an unfathomable air about him, and he took my arm, assuring me that everything would work itself out, and led me through a nearby door, where to my surprise, instead of finding Helen as I'd expected, found myself outside of the club and in a narrow alley. "Oh my God," I thought. "They're going to kill me." "Hopefully not," the man smiled at me, making me realise that I'd spoken my thoughts aloud. "Though it's still a possibility." "Where's my wife?" I demanded displaying a confidence that I hardly felt. "Safe," he replied with a smile. "Occupied for the moment but in no danger." "I want to see her," I insisted. "She's in no danger, but that doesn't mean you aren't," he reminded me of the earlier threat. "Here's your taxi. I'll try to get her to telephone you later on when she's free." "You can't do this," I shouted. "I'm a British cit..." Which is as far as I got, finding myself being lifted bodily off my feet by someone behind me, trundled down the alley and bundled into a taxi, receiving an elbow in the stomach for my troubles. If the punch was to keep my quiet then it succeeded with a margin to spare, as I curled up in pain, clutching my tummy as the taxi pulled away. A beaten man, I allowed the taxi driver to help me up to my hotel room without complaint. Once there he offered me a drink of water, which I readily accepted and the next thing I remember was waking up sometime the next morning. I guess there was something in it. I got my call, but it was short and sweet. "Things have changed honey," Helen told me over the phone. "Better you catch the flight home this evening." "I'm not going home without you Helen," I vowed. "That's not going to happen Honey. If you love me then for both our sakes just go home and forget me." "I can't do that," I cried out. "You've no option honey," Helen sobbed back. "If you love me then please do as I say. I love you honey and I swear I'll never forget you." At that point the telephone connection was cut, and I got the feeling that it wasn't her that cut it. Before I could think what to do next, almost by order, my bedroom door opened and the taxi driver from the previous night walked in accompanied by another guy, not unlike the two thugs from the club. Protests were of no use and a few hours later I found myself escorted onto the plane, and on my way back to the UK. ----- At this point, Mr Smith broke off from the story he'd been relating to take a drink from the glass he'd been holding. He had visibly shrunk in stature from the confident man that I had met such a short time ago, his eyes watering up as he fought to keep his tears back. His recount of the events had been unbelievably graphic, even down to the words that had been exchanged, almost as if he'd memorized them. The poor soul must have relived the outrage time and time again in his mind and his nightmares to have been able to do that, and I struggled to imagine how awful it must have been for him. "So what happened when you got back here?" I asked him gently, once he seemed to be recovering his composure. "What did the authorities do?" "Not a lot really. There wasn't much they could do," Smith replied, his haunted look belying his casual answer. "It was outside of our police's jurisdiction and I ended up dealing with the foreign office." "And they couldn't help?" "They tried, or seemed to," he went on, his voice sounding strangely hollow. "I don't think they wanted to upset the newly emerging regime over there, and when a letter from Helen arrived stating that she wasn't being held against her will, then they were more than happy to drop it." "Then what?" "I made a fuss of course," he sighed resignedly. "Eventually I managed to persuade them to get the British Console over there to meet up with her, but all I got back was that Helen was not there under duress. I even tried the American Embassy, but they were even less helpful. Just didn't want to know." "Tough," I commented absently, not knowing how to offer him any consolation. "I tried to fly back over there. It's not that long ago, but back then you still needed a visa to get in, and wonder of wonders, my applications never came back." "So now she's with this guy Edin Pjanic," I moved the conversation along, as much to ease the poor sod's heartbreak as to find out more. "So it seems," he sighed. "I heard nothing of her for nearly a year and tried, hard as it was, to get on with my life, and then suddenly she's there on the front pages." "You mean when the American President went over to meet their new president," I encouraged him, remembering the occasion well, and the flurry of speculation as to who the hell was the willowy, blonde beauty with the American accent that stole the show, who was in the welcoming party. "It was her," he confirmed, knowing that I'd know what he was talking about. Damn it, no reporter, journalist or for that matter 'Joe Public', wouldn't have recalled the avalanche of photos of her that dominated the news all that week. Nobody would forget in a hurry how the mini skirted seductress had put every other woman there in the shade, and how flustered the American President himself had been when she'd turned her attention onto him. "Then she seemed to disappear for a while," I commented, trying to recall some of the weird and wonderful speculations as to what had became of her. Everything from the President having run off with her, to the Russian's having abducted her. "More than six months with nothing," he confirmed. "Then a brief appearance at a banquet for our Prime Minister, a handful of other appearances, and then the announcement that she was the new Mrs. Pjanic." "An announcement that took the world by storm," I added. "Indeed," Smith confirmed, seemingly having recovered his spirits somewhat. "And ever since the world's press have been trying every trick in the book to find out where she came from." "That and her measurements," I mumbled wryly, recalling that the Sun and the Mirror had expressed more interest in her bust size than her origins. A comment that bought a shrug of acceptance from Smith. "So are you telling me that only you and now me, know who she really is?" I asked when he kept his silence. "Not at all," he replied, smiling for the first time maybe since he'd started his story. "My Government know and I imagine the Americans know as well, but they don't want the whole world to know that yet." "Why?" "Well that's where you come in," he trumped me with. "Me?" I asked in surprise. "Well do you want to meet with the so-called Mrs Pjanic or not?" he grinned at me. Yes, the bugger grinned at me. ------ The things we then discussed, even at this later stage, I'm not prepared to go into in too much detail. Suffice to say that our Government, the Western world even, were getting increasingly worried about the present leaders over there, and in particular the corrupt influence of one Mr Edin Pjanic. They were particularly concerned about dealings he was having with President Putin of Russia, and though I didn't know it at the time, they, whoever 'they' were, were even more worried that Pjanic was about to double-cross Putin. The last thing the world needed at that moment was a pissed off Mr Putin throwing his weight around. Helen, Mrs Pjanic, Mrs Smith or whatever her name was, though of course in reality it was none of these, had information that she was only prepared to pass on face to face to a person she felt she could trust, and in her infinite wisdom from what she'd seen of me on the TV channels, she'd chosen me! I saw quite clearly that I had been set up as I suspected at the beginning. Even my boss at Channel ... (Ooops nearly gave the game away), pointing me in the direction of this investigation could have/must have been involved, even though later he vehemently denied it. Sure, just like he was never involved in the telephone tapping scandal. "Is my life in danger if I go over there?" I asked eventually. "Could be," Smith answered so casually that it was frightening, but by then I was hooked. Hook line and sinker actually, seeing this as the story of stories that I'd perhaps been chasing all my working life. ----- 'British Airways flight BA 5342 to Warsaw is now boarding at gate 34', came the announcement over the tannoy, and don't worry, I haven't given the game away, as this was to be a stopping off point for me. It was somewhere for me to confuse any watchers as to the purpose of my travels, and the sort of trip that I was well used to enduring in my job. It was also somewhere that I was due to make my first contact with the elusive Helen, as I'd got to think of her, and a few hours later, still bemused that this was actually happening to me, I was sat in my hotel room waiting to be put through to her. "Mrs Pjanic?" I started when I heard her make the connection. "I'm ..." "I know who you are," she interrupted me. "Meet me in the basement bar at the hotel Imperial tomorrow night at seven thirty. I believe you know where it is." "I can make that," I confirmed, making a quick mental calculation as to flight times etc. "Fine," she replied and cut the connection. Blimey! ------- I reported in to Smith as pre-arranged, booked my flight for early the following morning, and the next evening found me descending the steps down to the elegant basement bar of one of the best hotels in the country, my heart beating wildly and wondering if I would ever be walking back up them under my own steam. The bar was busy but not crowded, and there was no sign of Helen so I took my place at the bar and ordered myself a Vodka Cocktail, grateful as ever that the world now seems to speak English. Seven thirty passed, my pulse rate soared and every man in the bar suddenly became a state assassin. Fuck, what the hell was I doing there? Then a slight hush fell over place, but soon recovered, the clientele thinking themselves too sophisticated to be phased by the arrival of anyone, no matter how beautiful or infamous. Looking round towards her, I was surprised that she ignored me totally, and took a seat at the bar a few feet down from me, side on, giving me the chance to observe her, exactly the same as every man in there would be doing if they could get away with it. Helen in the flesh as it were was indeed a beauty, and the photos I'd seen of her hardly did her justice. Tallish, maybe pushing six foot in her high spiky heels, dressed in a tight, very short, clingy evening dress, designed to emphasize and even exaggerate quite how long and perfect her shapely legs were, and which moulded itself round those exquisite pert breasts that Smith had described so expressively. I glanced around, trying not to make it obvious, wondering what the hell was going on. I've been around a bit, travelled a lot and stayed in some weird places, but was feeling so far out of my depth that I had difficulty keeping my hands steady. "Everything OK sir," the barman asked me, which was strange considering how long it had taken to get his attention when I first came in. "Certainly sir. I'll see to that," he then surprised me with, considering that I hadn't said a word to him. Even more surprised to see him go to straight to the collection of bottles and start making up a drink that I certainly hadn't ordered. Confused when he then took the drink straight to Helen. Then it clicked. It clicked what he, or rather they were up to when Helen took the drink, exchanged a few words with the barman and then spun her delectable bottom round on her seat to face me, held her drink up and nodded her thanks. Out of my depth? Frighteningly so and in danger of drowning. Drowning in those limpid watery blue eyes that were threatening to envelop me. I nodded my head back to her, but it wasn't till she raised her eyebrows questioningly that I had the gumption to make my move and take the seat next to her. Her shear perfection up that close took my breath away. Not a blemish, lovely silky skin, the opening down the front of her dress, which I'd thought quite modest, gaping open dangerously when she turned and offering tantalizing glimpses of the soft swell of her bra-less breasts, somehow magically and frustratingly managing to keep her nipples hidden from view. With the exciting and outrageously long expanse of bare sun-kissed thigh that was also bared before me, it was difficult to know where to look. All that and the most exquisitely beautiful face that I could ever remember seeing up this close, topped off by that flowing mass of slinky blonde hair that had become her trade mark. Then she leaned forward, twirling the stem of her glass between her fingers before slowly putting it down, quite deliberately taking her time, her smile inviting me to drop my gaze to the ever more gaping opening of her dress, her eyes daring me to do so. I lost. She won. I groaned silently at the perfection of the hard nipple that tipped her glorious breast. She giggled sexily, at how easily she had manipulated me. She had me where she wanted me before we'd spoken a word. No wonder Smith had been heartbroken at losing her. I was already wondering how I'd ever be able to let her go when our business was finished. "Hi," she opened with in her clearly American accent, which was just as well because I found myself temporarily tongue-tied. "My name's Helen. Thanks for the drink. Are you here on business?" "Sort of," I mumbled, clearing my throat. "I'm a journalist and just visiting for a day or two." "Oh how interesting," Helen came back, for all the world as if she had no idea who I was, or even more unlikely that I wouldn't know who she was. "What sort of things do you write about?" We continued to chat about nothing in particular, much the way a couple who'd just met might do when the guy is trying to see if the girl is going to be available, and the girl is deciding whether or not she wants to be. It was hard for me to concentrate in such circumstances, much harder with such a stunningly lovely woman that close. Her subtle perfume alone was intoxicating, and the way her tight dress rode even higher up her thighs suffocating. And of course every time she leant forward that wonderfully designed dress gaped open, affording me further heart-stopping glimpses of those plump little breasts, and a few times the opportunity to observe again quite how hard and erect her nipples were. She knew what was happening of course and knew the effect she was having on me. Her dress was designed for deliberate and calculated exposure, and her body could have been designed for just that purpose. Her behaviour was outrageous. God, it was the essence of what dreams are made of. I'm really not sure which of the two of us was enjoying it the most. "Ready if you are," she suddenly said out of the blue, standing up from her stool and tugging her dress back down to where it should have been, my eyes blinking in astonishment at the quick peep at where her panties should have been, almost unable to believe that I'd really seen what I thought I'd just seen. "Look happier," she whispered to me as she took my hand and started to lead me out of the bar. "Oh I'm happy enough," I gulped back. "Then look like a guy who's going to get lucky tonight," Helen giggled back. Shit! I honestly can't remember whether I did go back up those steps under my own steam. ----- Once out of the bar Helen put her finger to my lips indicating that I should keep quiet, or more exactly that I shouldn't ask questions. The pair of us giggled for want of a better expression across the lobby to the lifts, both ignoring the stares we were earning by our behaviour and me wondering how my hand ended up so firmly on her curvy bottom. Wondering as well I might add, at how any woman's ass could feel so bloody wonderful. She pushed me into the empty lift, pushed a button and even before the doors had closed, plastered her lithe, luscious, slim body up against mine, her arms round my neck and her soft lips hard up against mine. "What's this all about? Why are..." I started to ask when we came up for air, but she cut me off, whispering to me to be careful what I said. Warning me that there were cameras and microphones everywhere and to follow her lead. I had no problem with that! Once in the hotel room, and no, I'd no idea who's room it was, I was delighted to follow her lead again as she sat me down and proceeded to unzip her dress and slowly slip it off, the memory of Smith's story flashing through my brain as my eyes confirmed what I'd suspected all along and that Helen hadn't bothered with any underwear that evening. Wow! Imagine all the most beautiful super models in the world rolled into one, add a few top actresses, a selection of the prettiest female athletes, and a Miss World or two for good measure. Then take all their clothes off! Stunning! "Come and get it tiger," she chuckled and suddenly I didn't need any further invitation, any lingering thoughts about why we were supposed to be there quickly forgotten, as I slipped my arm round her trim bare waist and led her over to the awaiting bed. "You're on camera," she reminded me, whispering quietly in my ear as she leant over me to undo my shirt. "Put a good show on. We can talk more freely in the shower afterwards." Mystery Girl If I should have felt any guilt about fucking Smith's wife, or Panjic's for that matter, then I have to confess that I never gave it a thought. I'd always had a pretty active and lucid imagination as journalists tend to do, but my time with the beautiful and talented Helen was beyond all my expectations. We took turns to caress one another taking time to get to know one another's bodies, Helen getting the hang of mine quicker than I did hers, but maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. "I hope you're into oral," she gasped when she couldn't take any more of the attention I was paying to her fantastic breasts, wondering why on earth my fantasies had previously mostly involved big titted girls. It's time lover," Helen squealed some time later after I'd sucked and munched her to two orgasms and she'd returned the favour, but carefully kept me just short of boiling point, the point I reached not so very long afterwards with a roar as I spewed my hot seed deep into her. "Wow lover, that was the best sex I've ever had," she told me as we both lay there exhausted, basking in our after sex state of complete relaxation. Ok, that's maybe not exactly what she said, but I'm a journalist so I'm allowed a bit of license. "What now?" I asked, stroking her soft thigh, wondering how quickly I could get it up again. "You're British aren't you?" She asked me. "Sure am," I answered puzzled at her asking the pretty obvious. "Don't suppose you're into anal sex then?" "Not really," I admitted. "In my experience that's more of an American thing." "Mine to," she agreed. "Pity really, but never mind. Let's see what else we can get up to." And get up to other things we surely did, until I was forced to call a truce, having run out of both energy and just about everything else as well. Even then she had me stroking her breasts again and gently tweaking her nipples, hoping that she wouldn't be expecting me to try and get it up again any time soon. "Time for a shower," Helen eventually suggested, shooting me a knowing look, and it suddenly came flowing back to me that someone, somewhere was, or maybe would be watching and reviewing what we'd been doing for the last hour or so. Not sure how I felt about that! "Right," she started in, once we were both stood under the hot water pouring down from the showerhead. "There's a camera trained on us, but if we keep our voices low, then they can't pick up what we're saying while we've got the water running." "Right," I agreed, gulping somewhat as Helen began to lather me up. "Act natural," she instructed me, and I nodded my understanding, hardly being able to act any more natural than I was, my body reacting extremely naturally to what she was doing to me. "Like this?" I asked her, gathering some soapiness in my hands and smoothing it sensually down her body, starting from her shoulders, down over the swell of her lovely firm breasts, then further down over the curve of her slim but still ample hips. My hands ended up with one cupping each of her ass cheeks and I pulled her luscious body hard up against mine. "I think you're getting the hang of it," Helen laughed, sliding her soapy slippery body back and forward against mine. "But let's get down to business before the hot water runs out." My protestations that hot water doesn't generally run out in posh hotels was met with a saucy laugh from the naked temptress in my arms, but a reminder that though things may have moved on, this was still eastern Europe. "We haven't got time to talk in any detail about politics tonight," she surprised me with. "This evening's all about conning my husband into thinking you were a casual pick-up in the bar, and that my only interest in you is to get you to give me a good fucking." "So how did I do?" I asked, and yes I confess to having a smile on my face. "Outstanding. Wonderful thank you," Helen smiled at me, and I'm sorry if I've opted for another bit of journalistic licence there again. "So that is what the drink thing in the bar was about was it," I commented, absently, more interested in how beautifully flat and toned her bare tummy felt. "But how will your husband know? Won't he be pissed off?" "Of course not," Helen chuckled, taking my left hand and moving it up to her breast. "This is his permanent hotel room. They're his cameras. He's probably watching us now the pig, and wanking himself off. "What!" "I'm not kidding. The useless bastard can hardly get it up himself and gets his kicks out of watching me with other men." "Any man?" "No. At least he's selective. He gives me to the President from time to time to keep him sweet, but the stories that I'm fucking half the Government are nonsense. It's always visiting foreigners. Businessmen, journalists like you or the occasional tourist, and of course we have to end up at this hotel. He owns it and keeps this room vacant more or less just for this purpose." "That's awful," I grunted. Yes grunted, damn well grunted. You try speaking normal like, when a woman, especially one like Helen, is doing her best to make sure your cock is spotlessly clean. "Not always," Helen giggled mischievously, giving my cock an extra strong squeeze. "But with this performance he'll be pleading with me to see you again, so tomorrow night we can go for dinner somewhere away from his damn cameras and talk seriously." "And afterwards?" "Back here of course. Is that a problem?" "No problem at all," I assured her. In fact why don't we ... Oh fuck!" She was right of course, this was Eastern Europe and at that moment the water went stone cold. Cold? It was bloody well freezing, and with a squeal Helen leapt out of the shower, grabbed a towel and ran back into the bedroom. Nice ass! That was the end of any serious discourse and I awoke the next morning late, knackered, sore in places I didn't know I had, happy and contented and convinced that I had morphed into some Greek God of sexuality. I also woke up alone. ----- High as a kite and I hadn't had a drink and am not at all into drugs, and as arranged I contacted Smith on the phone they'd supplied that they assured me was scrambled. It was a contact that changed everything and bought me back tumbling to earth. "Smith?" I demanded when the other end picked up, having been schooled to keep the contact short." "He's dead," came the bone chilling reply. "Shot through the head last night at close quarters. Let Helen know as soon as possible as this changes everything, and then get the hell out of there." "Hang on. What do you mean? How did ..." No use. No point in continuing. The line had been cut, and as I suspected my attempts to remake the connection were fruitless. ----- It was approaching midday and we had made an arrangement to meet up at a local brasserie type place just down from the hotel that I'd woken up in. That seemed the quickest way to talk to Helen, so I had a quick and much less memorable shower, got dressed and made my way there, grateful that Helen had got my clothes off the previous evening before we'd got down to serious business and that they weren't therefore too crumpled. I'd been stunned by the news about Smith, but couldn't get the image of Helen in the nude out of my mind, so it was a pretty confused person who walked up to her, as she sat there at a table waiting for me, a picture of beauty in her tight jeans and casual top. "Hi gorgeous, "she greeted me with a smile that could have melted the ice cap in half the time that global warming was taking. "Hi yourself," I threw back at her, giving her a kiss on the cheek, that visibly made every man in the place groan in envy, even I'm sure the gay couple in the corner. "I've got some unpleasant news for you I'm afraid." "What's up? Your cock too sore for another session?" Helen laughed, sending the four guys on the table nearest us into fits of coughing. "No Helen," was my reply, hoping to get the unpleasantness over and hoping for a repeat of our previous encounter, and carried on to tell her the news of the unfortunate Smith's demise. Her reaction wasn't what I expected. I thought she might possibly be dismissive, or possibly burst into tears, but all she did was sit there thoughtfully ignoring me completely. "Are you Ok?" I asked at last, hesitantly. "Yes, never better," Helen replied to my astonishment. "Have you got your passport with you?" "In my pocket." "Money? Credit cards?" "Both." "There's a flight out to Paris in forty minutes and you can get a connection to London from there. If you grab a taxi quick then you should make it. Whatever you do, don't stop at your hotel to pick up your luggage. In fact don't stop for anything." "Why?" I stammered. "You haven't got time," Helen growled. "Get going." "But ..." "No buts. Get your ass moving," she urged me, standing and moving towards the door. "Will I see you again?" I pleaded. "Pretty unlikely," she replied looking back over her shoulder. "But thanks for last night. Thanks a lot." ----- It was while I was on the flight bound for Paris that the news broke, but of course I didn't discover that until after we had landed. At first it was just a report that an Eastern European businessman had been murdered, but that was quickly corrected to a prominent politician. But it was only when it became clear that it was his wife that had shot him dead that newshounds around the world really started to take notice. Then when the rumour went round that the wife in question was no other than the mysterious Mrs Pjanic, then the whole place went crazy. Two days of speculation and total invention and then the whole matter was overtaken by matters of even greater magnitude. 'Riots breaking out', read the headlines. 'Army takes to the streets.' 'Russian intervention likely.' 'American Mediterranean fleet put on red alert." 'Prime Minister gives backing to American allies.' 'Rebel forces oust army from the capital.' 'Government flee the country.' 'Putin warns the west not to interfere.' 'United Nations secretary reports probable agreement among the superpowers.' And then right there, tucked away in the middle pages, the only report that bought tears to my eyes. 'Our correspondent confirms that Mrs Helen Pjanic, wife of the late Edin Pjanic was executed last Friday by a firing squad.' ------ Life for the next two years went on much as before, except that for me, much of the colour that had seemed to be there had faded. I'd been used, but for the life of me I couldn't quite understand how, or indeed why. The best I could make of it was that there had been some grand plan, but that Smith's murder had somehow scuppered it. Unquestionably after a shaky start the new government over there had got it's act in order, and had managed to align itself closer to the west without upsetting its huge neighbour to the east, and that was no mean feat. But why did she have to die? Many, hundreds and maybe even thousands had perished in the street fighting and mayhem that took place during those frightful weeks. But why her? Why Helen? How could anyone in their right mind execute such a beautiful creature as Helen? I tried to console myself with the hope that it had been quick and painless. I tried to investigate into Helen's background but was soon warned off by 'them', reminding me that I was still liable to the strict conditions of the official secrets act. Just when I felt that maybe I was beginning to get over it and my life returning to normal, I found myself wandering down a street in downtown New York, planning in my mind what I was going to ask the somewhat controversial Senator that I was due to interview the next day. Not sure what made me stop at the hot dog stand that night as I normally don't particularly like the things. Not sure for that matter what made me turn round when I heard some guy behind me ask someone else a question. Maybe it was the clipped British accent? "Oh dear!" He sighed when he realised that I'd recognised him. "What are you doing here?" I gasped in surprise. "You're dead!" "Not quite," he, the man I knew as John Smith replied nonchalantly. "They told me you'd been shot." "They may have exaggerated somewhat old chap," the man, whoever he really was replied, at least having the decency to look a little embarrassed. "What the hell are you?" I demanded angrily. "A spy? MI6 or something." "Five actually," he corrected me. "I trust we can still rely on your discretion?" "Or what?" I retorted, even though my anger was dissolving away under his unflustered manner. "Maybe you'll have me shot?" "We probably wouldn't, but the CIA just might," he grinned, glancing over my left shoulder, and I fell for it. I fell for the oldest trick in the book and spun round to check who it was behind me. But it wasn't a trick at all! "Long time no see," said the most beautiful American girl in the whole world. "How have you been?" "You're CIA?" "Maybe, but you can still call me Helen," she grinned, taking Smith's arm, the pair of them making to walk off into the crowded street. "But wait," I called out, desperate to find out more. "Shhh!" Helen smiled, looking back towards me as they strolled off, and putting her forefinger to her lovely lips. "Remember ... Discretion, and thanks for that wonderful evening. I'll never forget it." ----- Five months later I got a rather fancy embossed invitation through the post to an obviously pretty fancy wedding over the water in Ohio. The names of the couple getting married meant absolutely nothing to me, but the wording made interesting reading. 'You are invited by General and Mrs John Marshal to celebrate the wedding of their daughter Mary Jane, to the honourable Michael Harding MC, son of Lord and Lady Harold Harding MBE. Blah blah blah etc. I read it with mounting interest. I thought I might go. I guess I had to really. The story they'd spun me had obviously been a total invention and I might find out what really happened, and what they were really setting me up for. Besides, though I doubted it, maybe Helen's new husband might just be as accommodating as her previous one had been, and that would make the trip to Ohio well worth it! +++++++++++++++ The end Mystery Girl Last night was Halloween, the first Halloween since my wife of 33 years had passed. A friend of mine had invited me. I thought about not going, but then I thought back to what my wife had told me. She had said she wanted me to continue to live life and enjoy myself. I dressed up as a Pirate, and we all had to wear masks to hind our identities. There were a lot of people at the party, I got myself a drink and started to mingle. I was going to try and have some fun. It had been almost 11 months since my wife passed away. She wanted me to live, so here I was at my first party since I became a Widower. I could almost feel like I was being watched, like there were eyes on me. That's when I saw her, she was dressed like a female Pirate, and she was walking right towards me. The first thing she said was copy cat. I asked her what her name was, but she said, no names, remember. We danced and drank and were both getting along really well, she seemed very familiar. I must know who see is. We were both invited by the same person, but with her mask I couldn't figure out who she was. She was a very sexy Pirate, about 5'6", Brunette, small breasted, and nice buns. I could tell she was a lot younger than I am, but I never was one to care about age. It doesn't really matter, if you like someone you just do. We were slow dancing when I got quite a surprise, she reached down between our bodies and pressed her palm against my crotch. I was surprised, but also I was getting aroused, and made no attempt at stopping her. My cock was fully erect now, 8 inches of hard cock. She was stroking my cock slowly, just enough to keep me on the edge. When the song ended she took my hand and guided me into another room and closed the door behind us, I heard the door being locked. She brought me over to a couch, and sat me down. Not a word was spoken, she knelt down and undid my pants. She pulled my cock through the opening of my boxer shorts and leaned over and engulfed my ragging hard-on. Her mouth felt wonderful, she sucked my cock, while using her hands to stroke my shaft up and down. While she was busy giving me some of the best head of my life, I started undoing her top. She never missed a beat as I pulled her arms loose of her blouse, and unhooked her bra. I was fondling her perky little tits, rolling her nipples between my fingers. I could feel myself getting close to cumming, she started sucking my cock even faster, and when I started cumming in her mouth she just swallowed every drop, milking my cock of the very last drop. I lifted her to her feet and stripped off her remaining clothes. I then had her lay down on the couch. I lowered my head and brought my tongue up to her bald pussy, she was already wet. I could taste her juices, she moaned as I licked, my tongue was poking inside her cunt. I took my middle finger and slipped it inside, and I was shocked to find she was still a virgin, I could feel her Hyman. I raised my head and looked up at her, she looked at me and shook her head yes. I positioned myself between her wide spread legs and looked at her again, once again she shook her head yes. I slowly pushed the head of my cock inward until just my cockhead was inside. I paused to let her get used to the feeling. I held tightly onto her hips and shoved my cock in hard, popping her cherry. She let out a squeal, once again I remained still, this time deep inside her deflowered pussy. I looked her in the eyes, she smiled and I eased my cock out slowly until just the tip was still inside. I started fucking her now, and I could tell she was starting to really enjoy what was happening. She wrapped her legs around me and I took that as sign to pick up my pace. I started jabbing my cock in and out faster and faster, my balls were slapping against her butt cheeks. She started gushing, squirting her cunt juices, I couldn't believe it, my first squirter. I pulled my cock out, and brought my cock up to her waiting open mouth. She grabbed me by hips and guided my cock inside. She drank my load down, some dribbled out, so when she was done she took her finger and licked up the rest. She smiled up at me, and pulled off her mask. I couldn't believe who it was. The host of the party has a daughter Julie, she came home from college for the party. She told me she had always been attracted to me, and when she found out I was going to be at her Dads party, she knew she had to try and seduce me. She told me she was so happy that I was the one to pop her cherry. I thanked her for making me feel alive again, and told her I would like to get together again. She agreed, but suggested keeping it secret, she didn't think her parents would approve, having their 19 year old daughter dating a man in his 50's. We both got dressed, I slipped out the back so that she wouldn't get in trouble. I don't know what will come of this relationship, but for right now, I want to live. Mystery Girl We had finally secured a baby sitter who was prepared to look after a two year old and a pair of four-year old twins, so Sally and I decided to make a night of it. When Sally succumbed to my suggestion that she should go to the fancy dress party as Princes Leia, I nearly came in my pants. "If you're choosing what I have to wear, Harry," she said, then I'm choosing what you have to wear." Why did I feel that victory and suddenly turned in to defeat? So when they day of the party came, and the costumes from the costume supplier arrived, I was somewhat pissed-off at finding a huge 'Chewbacca' suit beneath the wrappers. Of course, Sally found it hugely amusing, as she took her own costume up to the bedroom to change. The furry costume was huge, thick, and I knew straight away that I was going to boil alive. With the head on, I could barely see a thing, and movement of any kind was energy-sapping. Sally emerged from the bedroom, and it was the only time I was glad I had the head on, as my disappointment would have been obvious. Instead of the bikini-clad slave-girl-Leia I had been expecting, Sally wore the white, silky dress that Leia had worn in the first Star Wars film. I removed the Chewbacca head for a better look. "You disappointed?" She could read me like a book. "Well, there was no way I was going to go in that bloody stupid bikini-thing, if that's what you had thought. Not with all your pervy mates there. Besides, don't you think I look sexy?" She gave we a twirl, and the splits in the dress flashed her thighs beautifully. She jiggled about and her breasts bobbled under the material. Sally was only a petite five feet three, and her huge 30EE boobies were always mesmerising. I was about to check with her if she was wearing a bra, but the way her breasts moved and the glimpse of nipple under the thin nearly-translucent material, confirmed she was not. I thought twice about advising her how transparent her dress was in certain light, but decided that if she wasn't going to play fair and wear the bikini-Leia costume, then this was the next best bet. The taxi driver who drove us to the party was most amused, and offered to pick us up. "No, thanks," I said. "We have a minibus collecting us all at the end." We were fashionably late, and the party had already gotten in to full swing. I was only moderately pissed off at the immediate attention Sally received from the men, but it was probably my own fault for not suggesting she go as Queen Victoria or something equally as plain. I plodded myself off to the kitchen to get us some drinks, a task which proved very hot and very hard. When I got back to the living room, Sally had disappeared, and I found myself talking to two guys from work (Dracula, and a Catwoman). I had a few beers with them, and then got caught up with a few people I didn't know, who were debating the correct order in which to watch the Star Wars films. It' amazing just how many opinions there are on this, and even though I didn't give a rats ass, it was intriguing how they formulated their opinions. After an hour or so of this, I drifted away back to the kitchen to top up my drink. Sally was chatting to a guy who had his back to me. He was dressed as a native American Indian, with huge headdress of feathers, leather top, and leather loincloth. He was a little portly, which made him look slightly ridiculous, but as there was nobody at the party who was dressed sensibly, I could see how he fitted in. She was locked in close conversation with him, smiling gently, with her eyes half-closed as she does when she's drunk more than she should. So she didn't see me enter the kitchen. As I came round the side of them, I recognised his face as being that of Dan, an old school friend of years ago. I'd heard that he had moved back into the area, and rumour had it that he had been kicked out of his rented accommodation by his landlord, after having an affair with his landlady. This didn't surprise me, as he'd always had this fantasy thing about married women even when we were at school. He wasn't especially good looking, with scraggy flyaway hair, a weak chin, an a dismal dress sense. Although he had never been married, he had a series of long and short term girlfriends, flings, affairs, and partnerships, usually due to the sob-stories he told women. Women seemed to take pity on him, and wanted to 'fix' him. As I listened, he was telling Sally about how his last relationship had ended, after she had promised to go away with him, get divorced, and buy a flat together in London. Then, suddenly, just as they were about to start a new life together, she changed her mind and dumped him. And now he just didn't know where he was going in his life, what to do, or who to turn to. He'd returned to his mother's house, and although he loved his mother dearly, he felt it was wrong to impose himself on her for too long, as she was getting old. "You poor thing," Sally said as he finished, resting her hand on his arm. "Dan!" I exclaimed, as though I was surprised to see him. "Is that you, Dan? I hardly recognised you." I gave him a playful punch in the belly, that was perhaps a little too hard. "Wha? Who the fuck are you?" I took my Chewy head off. "It's me, Harry, you dickhead." "Ohh, Harry, hi, yes." He took a pace back as I offered my hand. Perhaps he thought I was going to smack him. "What are you doing here?" "Just getting a drink. One for my wife too. Fancy a coke, Sally?" "No, I'll have another gin an tonic." "You sure? You sound a bit slurred?" "I'll get you one, Sally," said Dan, pushing past me to get to the fridge. I didn't like the amount of gin he threw in to her glass, but Sally took it from him, giggling. I tried to prize her away from Dan, as he just made me feel uneasy. The way he stared at her breasts all the time, and the way she was so eager to hear of how down on his his luck he was, about the constant failure of his love life, and how he so wanted to turn over a new leaf but just didn't know where to start. Sally eventually had to pee and so I followed her to the toilet. "Are you going to talk to your husband tonight?" I must have sounded annoyed. "Why should I, when he's being such an asshole?" "What? How?" "To poor Dan. Haven't you heard how he is? He's supposed to be your friend, you know." She closed the bathroom door on me. I suddenly felt the urge to pee too, so I dragged my Chewbacca suit up the stairs to the upstairs bathroom. After ten minutes of getting out of the thing, peeing, throwing cold water over my face and under my arm pits, I dragged the suit back on, silently cursing Sally's choice of evening wear for me. Back down in the kitchen there was no sign of Sally and Dan. I wandered in to the living room, hallway and dining room, but couldn't find either of them. Somebody suggested looking outside in the garden, as they had seen Sally going outside presumably to cool down. I found Sally talking to a group of her girl friends, sitting on a bench in the corner. There was no sign of Dan, and I was relieved she had shaken him off. I chatted some more to the guys about work, football, and fishing, and hadn't noticed that it was dark until somebody turned the outside lights on. We were stood in the garden down the side of the house. The downstairs toilet window was open, and from it came the grunting sound of a man. Like a set of stupid schoolboys, we staggered our way nearer, to see Dan's face in profile. One of the guys, Ray, crept nearer, and spoke a few words. Dan grunted something back before throwing open his mouth and having a huge orgasm. "What the hell was that about," asked Simon, a guy I knew from work. "Dan's gotten himself a blowjob," Ray chuckled. "Who?" asked another guy. Ray shrugged. "He just said she was good. Just some slut." The guys laughed it off and we headed back to the kitchen for more beers. We saw Dan coming out of the downstairs toilet, but had no woman with him. In the kitchen, I was surprised to see Sally, as I thought she was still in the garden. She was standing by the sink drinking a pint of water. "Glad you're trying to sober up," I said. "I washnt drunk. Much," She slurred. "Good. I'm just thinking about your head the next day. I don't want you to be ill, that's all." "God, Harry, you're sush a killjoy. Dun you wan me to ava good time?" "Of course I do, sweetheart." I kissed her on the head. Just after midnight, the minibus arrived, and we said out good-buys to our hosts. I was one of the last on, as, having the monstrous Chewbacca costume, I needed the wider disabled seats at the front. I looked round for Sally and saw she had a place on the back row, next to Dan. The whole minibus was singing, people were standing and swapping seats, shouting directions, and messages about where to drop off the next person. I saw Sally's head on Dan's shoulder, and I fumed at how close they were sitting together. I noticed that there was nobody on the back seat with them. The next time I looked, her head was still on his shoulder, but her eyes were closed, her head had tilted back, and she was biting her lip fiercely. I removed the stupid Chewy head to see better, as it was dark in the minibus and difficult to see clearly. A woman had stood up two rows back, and was singing something to a guy across the isle, so I lost sight of Sally. I wanted to try and get back to her, but the minibus was just too full. So I sat back and fretted to myself. The minibus stopped a few times in quick succession, and soon it was only half full. I looked to the back seat, and Sally was now on her own. I was relieved at this, but bemused as I hadn't seen Dan get off. But there again, I hadn't been watching. As I looked at her, her face turned from a relaxed, far-away drunkeness, to that of sudden pain. She looked downwards, her mouth opened, and then her head went back, eyes closed, gasping. Was she masturbating, here on the coach? If she was as horny as that now, then it bode well for me when we got home. The next stop was ours, and Sally was pushed forward towards me and the door. I grabbed her round the waist and we stepped out of the minibus into the cool of the evening. We waved our goodbyes, and as the minibus pulled away, I thought I glanced Dan's face though the back window. I woke late on Saturday morning, and Sally was still dead to the world. She finally emerged from the bedroom in the evening, and slumped herself on the sofa holding her head. Although she vaguely remembered talking to Dan, she said she couldn't remember anything about the latter half of the night or the ride home. This didn't surprise me, as she'd had amnesia before when she was drunk. Once, before we were married, she'd gotten so plastered that she'd removed her top and bra, dancing topless in a bar in town. Even though there had been plenty of photographs to capture the moment, she refused to admit any recollection of it. I remained uneasy about Dan's presence, and my concerns increased when I came home from work and she let it slip that she'd had lunch with Dan. When I asked her when, she eventually revealed that she'd 'bumped in to him' a few times since the party. I told her I wasn't happy about this, as Dan had a history of being a womaniser. But she just repeated lines from his sob stories. "He's down on his luck, Harry, and he just needs a break. He's looking at living in cheap bed and breakfast places at the moment, so I thought he could come and stay with us for a while." "What?" "Just until he gets settled. He's having to impose on his mum. She's such a lovely woman, and Dan loves her so much. But he's having to sleep on the couch. And we have a whole room spare..." "No. Absolutely not. Our place isn't big enough anyway. And we've got three small girls who tear up the place. I don't want him wandering out of the bathroom one morning and...and.." "Oh, Harry, grow up." "He's not staying here, Sally. I haven't seen him in years. I don't really know him any more, and neither do you. I know he's been selling you hard-luck stories, but that's what he does. That's what he always does. It's just his technique." "Technique? For what?" I paused, but I hadn't actually got anything stuck in my throat. "For trying to get inside your knickers." "Oh for God's sake. You really are bloody immature sometimes. Besides, you said yourself, you haven't seen him in years, so you don't really know him. He's not like that."' "I don't care what he's like, he's not staying here!" Our discussion had turned in to a row loud enough to wake the twins, who peered out from their bedroom, wide eyed. Of course I got the cold shoulder from Sally for the next few days, but I just got on planning our summer holiday trip. We were going camping with a large group of friends down to the south coast. The campsite was just off the beech, and if the weather was good, we would have a week of building sand castles, collecting shells, and barbecues. I was excited as we hadn't had a holiday for a few years, and this might just be an opportunity for Sally and I to rekindle our pre-marital sexlife. We were all set on the morning of our departure, with the kids buckled in to our MPV, and the tent and gear stashed in the boot and roof rack, when Sally picked up a call. She spoke for several minutes, laughing with whoever had called. It sounded like she were discussing cooking arrangements. "Who was that?" I asked as we set off down the road. Sally looked a little uncomfortable. "Well, you might as well know now. Dan will be coming on holiday with us." "What!?" "It's not just me. Some of the others told him to come along too." "Oh, Sally, why did you do that?" "He's on his own. He's lonely. The company will do him good." We argued for an hour before it went silent. And remained silent for the next two hours, when we arrived at the campsite. I busied myself unloading, sorting the kids out, and putting up our huge three-bedroomed tent. I set up the kitchen gear, tables, and chairs in the huge porch, and started inflating the air beds. There was the predicable row between Dee and Indy, the twins, as to who was getting which room. I looked round for Sally to arbitrate while I completed pegging out, but she was nowhere to be seen. I took the three kids up to the campsite shop and bought a few provisions, before heading back down, checking in with all our friends. I asked few if they had seen Sally. "She's over at Dan's tent drinking wine," said one. I dragged the kids over to Dan's tent, with the aim of making Sally feel guilty. But she was already sozzled enough not to notice. "Excuse me," I said eventually to Dan, grabbing Sally be the hand. "My children are in need of their mother." We put the kids to bed and then I put Sally to bed. Dee and Indy had claimed a room each, which left two year old Libbie sleeping between Sally and myself. Any thoughts of this holiday having any romance at all for me were fading rapidly. The next day we all took off for the beach. It was gloriously hot, and we spent all morning jumping in and out of the sea, applying layers of sun lotion, building sandcastles, and playing cricket. Around midday, the mums agreed they would sort out lunch for us all. The yummy mummys, clad in bikinis and bathing costumes, set off back up the beach, whilst us dads continued with the cricket with the kids. When the mums returned, Sally was wearing a new tiny white bikini. So tiny was it that it barely covered her beautifully big boobs, and she looked utterly fuckable. I was walking up to her to say how much I loved the way she looked, when Dan beat me to her. Sidling up to her, he wrapped his arm round her waist. "I knew you'd look good in that," he said. "You're really beautiful, Sally. By far the most beautiful woman here. I so wish I could have someone like you." I was going to launch in to a rant about that being the biggest load of bullshit I'd ever heard, but all the mums were cooing and ahhing over him, saying how sweet he was, that any woman would be lucky to have him, and they were sure he'd find somebody on this holiday. I was flabbergasted. Not only had Sally bought his crap, but so had all the other mums too. One other thing that irked me, was how he had said "I knew you'd look good in that" as if he had been expecting her to put on that skimpy bikini, and like he'd seen it before. That evening, the consensus was that some of the adults would hit some of the bars in town. We drew lots to see who would be baby sitting, and I drew one of the three short straws. I was chatting to Ricky and Paula about how we would watch all the kids in six tents, when the taxis arrived to take the others in to town. Sally popped out of the tent wearing a very sexy pale blue linen dress, with tiny straps, and a matching blue bra that was clearly visible. Her long auburn hair was down her back, and her hips wiggled as she strolled toward the taxi in a pair of killer high heels. She looked good enough to eat, and I tried to get near her to say how good she looked, and how pissed off I was about not being able to go with her. But she had been pushed inside the taxi, which was rammed with other bodies, eager to get into town. The taxi pulled away and to my dismay I saw that Dan had taken a seat right beside Sally. Ricky, Paula, and I placed three deckchairs in the centre of the six tents, where we could keep our eyes on all the doors and openings. We cracked open some wine and began chatting. Every few minutes or so, we'd wander round the tents, peeking in to see little faces asleep, and the occasional grunts and snores. By midnight we'd finished our third bottle, and the first of the taxis had arrived back. "You look shattered," said Ricky. "You hit the sack." I couldn't say no to that, so headed back to our tent. Sally's white bikini was laying on our airbed, and I began to stiffen at the sight of it. It felt so soft and smelt of her. I placed it beside my pillow, moved the sleeping Libbie to one side, and fell asleep. It was some time later that I heard the taxi. It stopped, and the doors opened. There was some commotion and what sounded like an argument developing. Putting on my trousers, I wandered outside. Ricky was paying the taxi driver, and holding on to Sally, who could hardly stand. "No money," said Ricky. "Don't worry, I've got it covered. You get her to bed." "Come on, honey," I said, taking Sally under the arms. "How are you feeling?" She spoke, but it wasn't really English. "Have you come back in the taxi on your own?" I asked, looking round. Again, she mumbled something. I looked over to Dan's tent but there was no sign of life. Eventually I had to carry her to bed. I peeled her out of her dress, unfastening her bra, and helping myself to feel of her melons. Pulling her dress down, I was shocked to find no knickers. The thought of Sally going commando in that dress made my semi into a fullie. She looked utterly fabulous, lying naked on our airbed, with the light from a nearby lamp illumining her bumps and curves. I removed my shorts and lay on top of her. "Sally? Sally?" I whispered. If she could hear me, there was no response, apart from a mostly incoherent groan. I kissed her face, and lips, hair, ears, everywhere. Suddenly I was consumed with lust. I had to have her, now. I knew it was probably wrong of me to take advantage of her in this predicament, but she was my wife after all. I kissed her tits, taking first one and then the other in my mouth. They were always too large to fit inside my mouth, but I always loved seeing if I could take just that little bit more. I feasted on them, suckling her erect nipples, and stimulating a moan from her. My fingers reached for her pussy, smooth and freshly shaved. My God, she was so wet! Utterly soaking. Mystery Girl She moaned something that sounded like, "No more" but I wasn't really listening, and continued to finger fuck her, whilst kissing her pelvis and waist. Her breathing had increased, and I could sense her hips moving in rhythm. I could wait no longer, and praying that little Libbie would stay asleep, I pushed my cock home. I slid straight in to her, right to the bottom. Normally, I need to work on her for some time before she can accept my full width. But tonight she was magnificently moist. As I pumped away at her, my mind wondered what it was that had got her so wet. Was it going commando, the alcohol, or had she gotten so sexually aroused at something that her panties had become too sodden to wear? Little moans escaped her lips as I pounded into her, her breasts bouncing with each thrust. Finally I exploded inside her, blacking out for a second with the effort. I rolled over, catching my breath. An urgent need to pee made me leave the tent for the toilet block. On the way back, I could hear Ricky's voice, chatting to some of the others who had been out in town. "So who is Dan's mystery girl," Ricky was asking. "We don't really know," said another voice. "He must have picked her up to to tonight, I guess. Either way, she must be pretty loose as, by all accounts, he had her in the loos twice." "Jeesus. What's her name?" "All I know is that he called her Cunnylips." There were chuckles from the men, and tuts of annoyance from the women. I made my way back to our tent, checked on Dee and Indy who were fast asleep, and then joined Sally and Libbie before falling into a deep, satisfied sleep. It was afternoon down at the beach when Sally finally emerged along with her hangover from hell that she'd brought with her. "Don't ever let me drink that much again," she said. "I would have tried to stop you if I'd been there and not baby sitting." "What? You mean you weren't at that club last night? Didn't we...?" "I drew one of the three short straws if you remember? No?" She looked vague and puzzled, so I handed her a bottle of water. Nobody drank much that night, and we all sat around on deck chairs in small groups, a lighted fire here and there, with blankets around to keep off the night chill. Ricky, Paula, and I had been the only ones without a hangover, but with no alcohol on site, and with nobody willing to go look for any, it was the job of Ricky and I to take a walk to the local off- license. This proved tricker than we thought, and we got lost several times on the dark, unlit backroads than led to the village. The offlicense was closed when we got there, but we managed to scrounge a few bottles of table wine from the local pub just before they were closing. We arrived back at the campsite an hour and a half later. "You go on. Take the wine," I said to Ricky. "I'm going to pee." After I'd relieved myself, I walked down through the campsite. As I passed Dan's tent, I heard noises coming from within. Slurping, kissing, moaning. I'd noticed that I hadn't seen much of him that evening, so I stopped, just for a moment. "Ohhh...fuck..." A loud whisper. It sounded female. "You like that, Cunnylips?" Dan's voice was hushed. "Ohh, God, yesss," she hissed back. There was more slurping, and more moaning. I know it's perverted, but I wanted to see if I could identify her. There was a small open flap near the base of the tent, and I crouched down on hands and knees peering in. Through the insect mesh of the tiny window,I could just see Dan's head between a pair of bare legs. He was working away at her with his mouth and tongue, whilst his hands ran up her sides. I couldn't see what his hands did to her next' but it made her squeal. Dan chuckled to himself, and started kissing her pelvis, moving up to her abdomen, and then I lost site of his face completely. In to view sprang his erect cock, poking out from his flyhole. I saw his hand move down to take hold of his shaft and began to guide himself into her. "Oh, God no, Dan!" she whispered. "Not here. Somebody will hear." "I know you like it. I know you want me. You wanted me last night, didn't you." "Did I? Oh, God..." He pushed himself in to her. She cried out, so loud I thought someone would come. "Shut the fuck up, Cunnylips." He must have stuffed something in her mouth, as her cries became muffled as he pumped her. There was no gentleness about him, no tender seduction, no slow and gentle lovemaking, just a fierce piston designed to make her cum hard and quick. Her knees came up and her legs moved further apart, a foot hitting the mesh on the flap I was staring through. His ass rose and fell rapidly, and her stifled moans became louder and more urgent. I tried to stuff my face closer, to see if I could see any more. I saw her hand reach down his back, caressing his skin, and then digging nails into his back. He began grunting with each thrust, and with a series of much deeper, harder thrusts, she screamed, her knees straightened and his ass went down and stopped. His buttock cheeks clenched as he pushed hard and deep, moving both their bodies headfirst a foot and out of my view. "Are you in their, Dan?" A male voice from the other side of the tent. "No, it's the fucking Smurfs," came Dan's reply. "Whaddyouwant?" "Nothing, nothing. Just sounded like you were in pain. You need help?" "Ha fucking ha. Piss off." I rolled quietly away from the tent, and hid for a few minutes under the hedge that separated the campsite from the road. I was only partially shocked to find I was fully erect and poking out of my shorts. I knew I couldn't exactly go back to camp in this state, so I knelt down, removed myself and began rubbing. There were whispers and rustling coming from Dan's tent. Silence for a few seconds and then the sound of the tent zipper. It took me a little longer before I was able to cum, but it felt empty and unrewarding. A returned to the campsite, and was told Sally had gone back to our tent. She was curled up beside Libbie, so I slipped in beside them and fell asleep. I woke up just before Sally, and told her I was going for a run. There was a wide stretch of beach about two miles away that I was going to make for, and then I'd be back to make breakfast. I love running in the morning. It's a great way to clear your head, and physically set yourself up for the day. I'd planned to run along the wide stretch of beach for a couple of miles, before turning round and coming back. But I hadn't reckoned on the tide being in, and the whole beach was underwater. So instead I jogged up and along a lane that looped up and away from the sea and back to the campsite. Passing the shower block on the side of the campsite furthest from ours, I decided to try it out, to see if it was as good as the facilities at our end of the campsite. The block was in use, and warm steam filled the building. I had to wait a few minutes for one of the six cubicles became free. I had the cubicle second from the end. As I stripped off, there was a huge thud from the wood and plastic partition wall between mine and the end cubicle. Above the noise of running water from all the cubicles, I heard the groan of a woman. Then a slurping sound, followed by a woman's groan and then a little shriek. I dropped to my knees and peered under the narrow gap between the concrete floor and the bottom of the partition. Through the steam I could see a woman's foot and ankle. She appeared to be facing away from me and leaning back on to the partition. A man was on his knees in front of her. I couldn't see the woman's other foot, so I could only guess it was over his shoulder. The partition wall thudded again, and she let out a long steady moan. "Ohhhhhhhhh...Dan..." I could only just hear her over the noise of the showers. Leaning my back up against the partition, I soaped myself down and took hold of my shaft, bringing it to full hardness. The heat of the water made the soap froth, and friction soon disappeared. There were more moans, slurping and thuds on the partition. Then for a few seconds everything appeared to stop. "Oh, God, Dan...don't stop now. I'm nearly there. What...what are you doing?" There was another thud on the partition wall. "Oh, God, no...no, Dan...not there," she whispered."Please no...not in there..." Dropping to my knees to peer under the gap, I could just see the woman's knees. She was facing toward me, presumably with her head and hands pressed up against the partition. Behind her, Dan was knelt, his hands on her hips. She was struggling against him. He reached round her waist and pulled her back on to him. "Aaaasrghhhh..." She screamed. "Shut the fuck up, Cunnylips," he hissed. "You're my bitch. You'll take it in any hole I want." It was brutal and animalistic, whatever it was he did to her. It sounded like she was desparately trying to stay quiet, but was failing miserably. "Eeee...eeeee...eeeee...eeee..." She cried, in unison of a hard thud from the partition. And then, "no...please...no...I can't...aaaarrrrgggghhhhh..." Dan uttered a long, low, gutteral groan. "Yeahhhhssss...Cunnylips...now you've had my seed in every hole." The woman collapsed to the floor, sobbing. I dropped to my knees, my stiff cock in my hands, pumping furiously. The water from the shower in Dan's cubicle stopped. "Clean yourself up," he said. I heard him putting on his clothes. I needed to cum. I grabbed some soap and smoothed it over my cock. The woman whimpered. "You're not wearing those anymore. Not on this holiday, Cunnylips. Your pussy needs to be easily accessible. At all times. Come on." I heard the cubicle door open, and saw their feet walking past my cubicle on their way out of the shower block. I wanted to throw the door open, to see who she was, and who had just been assraped by Dan. But my cock was still hard, and I was still in need of cumming. I closed my eyes and focused on the panic striken noises, yelping, and pleading of desperation made by the woman. My cock exploded, spitting out its contents into the drain of the shower. For the rest of that week, I kept hearing snippets and stories about Cunnylips. Dan had kept her identity a close secret, but during a drunken moment he had let it slip to Ricky, that she was to be the star turn at a Stag party. Apparently he had convinced her to be the waitress at the party, which was to be held in an old barn somewhere at the other side of town. The party was going to be a big deal for the young Stag and about a dozen of his friends. They had chipped in to hire a prostitute, when Dan said they could all borrow Cunnylips. The young lads had been quite pleased, and Dan had pocketed the £200 that the lads had raised. Friday night came, our last nite on the campsite. I was busy packing up the girls stuff, and dismantling all the kitchen equipment. I figured that if I could load most of our gear into the car that evening, then there wouldn't be such a huge rush in the morning. I suddenly realised that Sally still hadn't returned from the beech. I was immediately pissed off that she hadn't been there to help pack everything up. And then doubly pissed off when I saw that the kids had removed all their belongings from the bags I'd carefully packed, and strewn them about the place, looking for something to wear on the last night. Angrily, I called Sally's mobile, and left a message to indicate how pissed off I was at her. By now it was eight o'clock, and I was busily trying to get youngest ready for bed, whilst explaining to the twins that they could stay up for another hour, but no, there wasn't a last-night party, it was just a bit of a get together, and no they could't get all their clothes out of the bag again. By ten o'clock, I'd finished packing, read Libbie a story and got her to sleep, and retrieved the twins who had been busy investigating everybody else's tent. "Bed. Now!" I wasn't taking any prisoners. At eleven, I sufficiently pissed off to call Sally again. I left another message, followed by a one-line, rather blunt text: - WTF are you? A reply came back a minute later. -Out lol -out? Where? What bout your children? -Party. I told you I was about to send another text, but I get so pissed off with all the texting shit sometimes, so I just called her. It went to answerphone, again. So I hung up. Then I dialled again. "Hi, hunny," she sounded drunk. "Where the hell are you, Sally? I need help packing up you know." "I told you. I'm helping at a party." "No you didn't. What party? Get yourself back here right now." "Oh for fucks sake, Harry. Chill out will you. I'm sure I told you. Dan's asked me to help out at his friend's stag party. They need someone to serve the drinks." I had to check the ground to see how much blood had just run from me. My pulse shot out my head, and the campsite started to revolve. "What?" "Just for a few hours. I'm sure I told you yesterday. Didn't I?" "No. Where are you now?" "Just in the taxi. I don't think I'll be too late." "Taxi? Who with?" "Just with Dan. So don't worry. I'll be quite safe. He told me I'm the star turn," she giggled. Suddenly I saw what had been staring me in the face for the past few weeks. Dan's sob story of heartbrake and sadness, had engineered his pleasure in the downstairs toilet at the party, and Sally's face of pleasure on the back seat of the minibus on the way home. He had fashioned his way into our holiday, had his way in the nightclub, seduced Sally in his tent, and raped her in the shower. And God knows what else and when else. And what now? "Sally, you need to come back now." "What?" "You don't understand. I know what's been happening. What he's doing. And you need to come back now?" "I will. I told you I don't think I'll be too late." "Sally, listen. You don't know what Dan's going to do to you. He's been tricking you. Can't you see?" "What? I can't hear you." There was laughter in the background. "I've got to go." "Sally! Listen. Tell the taxi driver to turn round. Tell him to bring you straight back to the campsite. Sally! Sally?" The line had gone dead. I called back, but it went to her answerphone. I hung up, looking around me. I checked my car keys in my pocket. But where was I going? Where was the party? And who would look after the kids? I stumbled around the campsite, re-dialling Sally's number. It never occurred to me to send a text to her, to tell her that I knew what was happening. Eventually I stumbled in to Ricky and Paula. They asked me what was the matter. So I told them. Paula gasped and clamped both hands to her mouth. Ricky just shook his head, looking at the ground and turning away. A few of the others joined us, noticing that something was wrong. Gradually the story spilled out, as the true identity of Cunnylips revealed itself. At first, nobody would believe it. They all though Dan was a nice, regular guy, who'd just fallen on hard times and needed a break. With mums putting their arms around me in comfort, the stories started to come out. It seemed that, individually, Dan had provided some sort of hard-luck story to everyone. But when the pieces started to be put together as they were now, many of the mums commented that he had made advances, or flirted, or dropped hints of a sexual nature to them in the past. More stories of his conquests came out, and we were presented with a picture of a deviant sexual predator. Of course, none of this was any consolation to me. My wife had been multipully unfaithful, God knows how many times. She had allowed herself to be seduced, and had enjoyed the end fruits of her seduction, to the point where her seducer could legitimately claim consensual relations had taken place. Needless to say I didn't sleep that night. Whilst Paula looked after my kids, I drove around the town and surrounding countryside, looking for a barn or any signs of a stag party. But I found nothing, and by 4.00am it was getting light and I arrived back at the campsite. Returning to the tent I found Sally asleep beside Libbie. I carried the sleeping Libbie into Dee's compartment, and left her there, with the intentions of having a very serious few words with my wife. But of course Sally was completely comatosed, and I could get only a small grunt from her. She was dressed as a Cowgirl; but of course, she had been to a barn. I say dressed, but the costume she wore covered very little, being composed of a tiny brown leather miniskirt, and matching crop top. Cheap brown leather thigh high boots and a 10 gallon hat completed the look. She wore no bra, and no panties. I had to look between her legs, but wished I hadn't. Her usually beautiful pussy was red, swollen, and was leaking fluids of all colours and consistencies. Suddenly, I was filled with rage. A kind of murderous rage I'd never felt before. I burst out of the tent, storming over to Dan's, and ripped open his door. He too was comatosed, with drool and vomit clinging to the side of his face. I called his name a few times, and kicked him with reasonable force in his chest and gut. When it was obvious that he wasn't moving, I started searching his tent. I'd no idea for what, but when I stumbled across the Camcorder, I knew I had to play it back. The tape had been made at the Stag party, in a barn somewhere. There were about twenty guys, all pissed, and drinking beer from cardboard crates. There was no bar, or fridge, or glasses, and no need for anyone to serve anything to anyone. Sally appeared in her Cowgirl outfit. "I can't believe I let you talk me in to wearing this," she said to the camera. "You look fit as fuck," came Dan's voice. "Doesn't she, guys?" Hoots and yells of agreement came from all the men there, before Sally was led away by two of the men into the middle of the barn where music was playing. They began to dance, one in front of Sally and one behind. The rest of the men gathered round drinking beer. I pressed fast forward. The next scene made me nearly drop the camera. Sally was on her back on the ground with her tiny skirt around her hips. A man was kneeling between her legs, holding her hips and fucking her furiously. Sally had her hands on his shoulders, as if trying to push him away. The camera moved in closer, and Sally looked toward it. "Dan!" She exclaimed. "Dan! Ohhhhh..." The man had obviously hit a tender spot inside her. With several deeper thrusts, the man let out a huge groan. His cheeks tensed, and then released, before he rolled off her. Sally's knees were drawn up, exposing her pussy, which oozed cum. Suddenly, another man was between her legs. He had already removed his trousers, and was massaging a huge erection. Without any warning he plunged straight in to my wife, and began fucking her just as fast as the previous man. "Ohhhhh!" she cried again. "Dan! Dan, what's happening?" The camera moved in closer to the man's face, which was just a couple of inches above Sally's. "She a great fuck or what, eh Pauly?" came Dan's voice. "Yehhssss," utterd Pauly, as he continued ploughing into my wife. He stared down to Sally's breasts, and pulled down her tiny leather top. Taking one breast in his mouth he began to tease her nipple. "Dan?" Cried Sally. "Dan? Ohhhh...please...Dan!" Her eyes closed slightly and she bit her bottom lip. They took turns with her. I lost count eventually, skipping forward on the video. Near the end she was screaming loudly at something off camera. Two of the men were holding her down, and the camera panned round to show Dan holding a cricket stump. As the men held her with her legs open, he inserted the cricket stump into her slime covered pussy. She cried out a few times, thrusting her hips into the air. "Hold her!" came Dan's voice, and the cricket stump went in further. Mystery Girl There were only a few more minutes of this before the tape ended. A ninety minute tape. I sat on the floor of Dan's tend, stunned. It was about six o'clock, and in a couple of hours the campsite would be waking. I stared at him, laying on his front, unconscious. And then, I developed a plan. I went out to my car. The sun was up, but the campers were still slumbering. In the boot I removed the two rolls of Duct Tape, before taking the cricket stump I had seen discarded on the grass just outside Dan's tent. I returned to the tent and began removing Dan's clothes. It was then I spotted his mobile phone. I picked it up, but it was locked. It had one of those fingerprint identity systems, so I grabbed his hand, and after a few seconds, I had unlocked his phone. There were dozens of pictures of Sally, many of them taken in his tent, with her sucking his cock, or riding on top, and being taken from behind. I saw texts from him to her, and her to him. Many times he thanked her for being so understanding, and for being such a good friend when he was so in need. The only other woman who had ever been so good to him was his mother. He mentioned his mother several times in his rambling texts to her. She replied saying that of course he was a lovely man, that it was such a shame he'd had so much bad luck, and that she felt so sorry for him. And of course she would agree to meet up with him. There were scores of texts and e-mails between them, all starting on the night of that party, including one the next day from him: -Thanks for what u did 2 me in the toilet hun. Hope you had a good time on the back seat? It had been his idea to move in to our house, but he had put it so subtly that it sounded like Sally had come up with the idea in the first place. He had even told her that he could look after the girls for us. And it was clearly him who had put the idea in her brain that he should come on holiday to recuperate. As I read, I became more incensed. There were messages to other women too. E-mails, mails, texts, instant messages, Wotsaps, every conceivable form of social media had been used to communicate with other wives and girlfriends. I picked up the Duct Tape and cricket stump. The next ten minutes of his life were probably the most uncomfortable. I zipped up his tent as I left. # I watched him enter the fast food restaurant, just after it opened. He was first in there, just as always. So predictable. He ordered the same bacon roll and the same tea with two sugars and sat in the same table, away from the counter and away from the door. That the table was secluded from the rest of the café by a screen, was just perfect. He rose to leave, the moment he saw me. But I just placed his Camcorder on the table, staring him down. "What do you want?" He was hyperventilating. "A chat," I said. "Sit down, Dan." Obediently he sat, eyeing the Camcorder. "So it was you?" I said nothing. "You bastard. Do you know what permanent damage that's caused to me? My doctor says..." "Do you think I give a fuck?" He stood up, and grabbed the Camera. "I'm going to the Police. What you did was assault." I shook my head. "I don't think so." I reached in to my jacket pocket, and pulled out his mobile phone. I placed it on the table. He fell rather than sat back in his seat. "What do you want?" "I want you to leave town." He laughed. "Fuck you. What do you think this is? High fucking noon?" I leaned forward, staring him in his eyes. "I've seen the contents of your phone, as well as the tape." I tapped the Camcorder. He switched it on, but the screen was blank. He stared at me. "What have you done to it." "Wiped it, of course. You don't think I'd let you keep that, do you?" "She loved it!" he sneered at me. "She came begging to me for it. She said you weren't man enough for her. You didn't satisfy her. But I..." "Shut it, you prick. You're in deep shit." "Am I? Am I really?" he sneered. "I don't give a fuck." "No. You don't, do you. You really don't care whose lives you ruin. You don't consider the families you could pull apart." He looked over his shoulder, eyeing the door. "I'm out of here." "No, you're not. Not before you agree to leave town." "Why the hell should I do that?" "Because of the texts and the e-mails on your phone." He grabbed the phone from the table, and flicked through his messages, and texts. "The photos? And videos? What have you done?" "I've deleted them from your phone, of course." He sighed, relieved. "It's a bloody good job that the Chief Exec of that company you're working for, hasn't seen the e-mails between you and his wife." He looked pale. "Or the video of her tied to a hotel bed with something sticking out of her private parts. Did she agree to let you do that?" "Fuck you!" He checked his phone again. "Of course, I've made backups of everything on your phone. Everything. Including your contacts list. All those wives and girlfriends, and their husbands and boyfriends. All their home and work e-mails, mobile numbers. Plus all the dirty pictures and videos. And the ninety minutes of you gangraping my wife." "She agreed to that. She wanted to come. And what are you going to do anyway? You and your whore wife will be a laughing stock if anyone sees any of that!" He sat back in his seat, folding his arms. "No, mate. You're fucked." "The thing is, Dan, what Sally and I have, is called a loving relationship. You see, unlike the sordid little affairs you have, Sally and I have been together a long time. We know and we trust each other. Of course, what she's done has shaken me to the core. It's ripped us apart, made us question our whole lives. But we're turning a corner. That's what the marriage guidance people are telling us. And our friends. You see, they all know. They knew from the night you took her to the barn. From that moment, we all realised what a complete shit you are." He licked his lips, and glanced at door. "Fuck you, Harry." "So. I'm giving you one week. And then, as you say, you're out of here." "Fuck off!" "You're going to work now, as usual. But not as usual, you will hand in your resignation. You will copy me in to your resignation. Give personal reasons, whatever. You won't be able to work your notice, you'll have to go off sick. And then, once you've packed all your stuff, you will fuck off out of town, and out of the county. And you will never, ever come back. You see, I have a huge online Cloud account set up. In that account is a repository of all your nasty videos, pictures, messages and e-mails. I have a link to that account, which is pasted into an e-mail. That e-mail is set to go out to every contact in your phone. There are quite a lot of contacts. Over five hundred, did you know? Business partners, customers, as well as friends. Can you imagine how they will perceive you, when they see that little lot?" "Fuck you." It was a weak reply. His mouth was as dry as a bone, his face pale, and his hands trembling as he clutched his phone. "And of course, number one in your contact list, is your mother." His lips tried to form a word, but all that cam out was, "Ffff..." "What would she think of her precious little boy? What would she make of his adultery, his lies, his tricks and deceit? Would it sadden her to know that her son targets married women? Would she cry for hours and days at a time? What would she say to you, Dan? Would she even speak to you?" I let this sink in for a minute. "One week. That's all. I give you one week. If you're not gone, then I click send. If you come back, then five hundred people find out the real you." I stood up and made to leave. I had a family to put back together. "Oh, and one more thing," I said, reaching in to the bag I had over my shoulder. "If you ever contact my wife again, this will go in all the way." I placed the cricket stump on the table and walked out the restaurant. Mystery Girl Ch. 02 This is a the 2nd part of the series "Mystery girl" There I was lying in bed after one of the hottest scenes I have ever witnessed or been a part of. Holly and this mystery woman had given me a sexual pleasure that a red-blooded male could only dream about. And that's when it hit me who this mystery woman was. About one week ago, I had taken Holly out to dinner to the hottest new restaurant in town, a great stake house with the best cut of meat I have ever had. While sitting there in a romantic corner for two our waitress came up to us and introduced herself to us, her name was Tara. Tara was a smoking hot brunette with giant tits that were flowing out her low cut, button down shirt she wore with the hot black skirt for her uniform she wore in the restaurant. Her beautiful blue eyes quickly fixed onto Holly's who was returning the sexual stare right back. I could see the passion mounting in my fiancé's eyes as her body stiffened up and she began to breathe deeply, obviously very turned on by our stunning waitress. As Tara read us the drink and food specials, Holly's hand found its way to my crotch and quickly began to rub my already hard cock. Holly was not the only one of us who found Tara extremely beautiful and my pulsating cock was evidence of this fact. After placing our drink orders Tara walked away showing an amazing ass being hugged by her tight skirt. I could not pull my eyes off the beautiful sight. Holly quickly turned to me and kissed me passionately while continuing to rub my cock, which she had now pulled out of my opened pants. As Tara returned with our drinks she obviously saw that Holly was busy giving me one of the greatest hand jobs she ever had. Her hands felt so tight and strong around my throbbing cock and it was hard for me to keep from moaning in pleasure, I could not control my facial expressions as it was obvious to anyone around I was feeling extreme pleasure. Tara seductively smiled at holly and placed our drinks on the table. After placing our drinks on the table, Tara touched holly's shoulder and offered her some paper napkins while staring down at my cock, which was growing by the instant and about to spew my juices everywhere. As Tara watched on, Holly and her locked eyes, Tara was sensually licking her lips and sliding her hand down holly's arm as my cock exploded onto the underside of the table and down onto the napkins that had been placed onto my pants. She sauntered away from the table once again showing that perfect ass. As I attempted to regain my composure, our food was served, brought out some random bus boy; maybe Tara was to shy to come back after witnessing what had happened under our table a few minutes earlier. However, as Holly and I ate our delicious dinner, Tara came back out to check on us and fill our water glasses. As she reached for Holly glass, her hand grazed across Holly's perky tits. Holly was wearing a skintight shirt that exposed her aroused nipples. Holly shuttered with pleasure as the hand brushed over her very sensitive breasts and dug her fingernails into my leg, trying to keep from jumping Tara on the spot. As she replaced the glass on the table, her hand once again slid across Holly's perfect breasts, but this time her hand was cold from the ice and holly jumped slightly to the unexpected pleasure. As Holly jumped from the ice, I saw her skirt had slid up her legs, exposing her pussy because she was not wearing any underwear. My hand slid under her skirt and I began to finger my fiancé as we waited for dessert. Holly is a very sexual woman who is very sensitive and easy to bring to orgasm if you know where to touch. Being with her for as long as I have, my thumb quickly found its way to her clit as my middle finger slid deep in her pussy. She softly cooed as my finger slipped into her already soaking pussy. She was so wet and turned on my Tara and I that it took only sliding in a second finger for her to start to tremble. My fingers spread apart, pulling her pussy to its limits and hitting every sensitive part in her body. An orgasm raced through her body causing her juices to flow even more. As Tara walked up to us with our dessert, she obviously saw my finger buried deep in Holly. As she came to the table, holly grabbed my hand and sucked her own juices off my finger. As holly sucked them, I saw Tara's hand braze against her own chest slightly rubbing her own round breasts before remembering she was at work and walking away obviously frustrated. After enjoying a great crème brulette, Tara asked us if there was anything else we wanted tonight, Holly in a bold fashion boldly said "you" but we will settle for where the bathroom is. As Tara blushed and pointed Holly to the bathroom, holly grazed Tara's perfect ass as she stood up from the table. I was instantly jealous that Holly just got to rub up against the ass of my dreams. Holly mischievously smiled at me as she walked away and I too stood up from the table and rubbed against Tara, with my hard cock pressing against her. All she had to do was move up, but she never did, instead she enjoyed feeling the heat of Holly and my bodies rub up against her. As I walked to the bathroom, heading to the men's room holly opened the door of the women's room and grabbed me by the tie, pulling me into her grasps. As I went to lock the door, Holly ordered me not to, and who was I to care at this moment? As Holly and I kissed, I backed her up against the counter and mirror. I dropped to my knees and began to lick her wet pussy, sucking up all her juices as she sat on the counter leaning back against the mirror. My face is buried deep in my fiancé's pussy when I hear the sound of a door creaking open. I try to stand up quickly, but holly's hand on the back of my head keeps me from leaving her tasty hole. Holly smacks the mirror with a slap as my powerful tongue brings her to orgasm, causing even more juices to flow out of her. As I stand up and slide down my zipper, ready to fuck my beautiful lady, I look over my shoulder and see Tara standing against the door with one hand between her legs and the other rubbing her now exposed breast. Her tits were perfect. A nice areola around her hard nipples that blended in perfectly with her beautifully tanned skin. I slid my 7inch cock into Holly, leaving it at the tip of her vagina. Small little pumps into her hole drove her crazy and she begged for me to fuck her. Without warning, I slammed all 7inches deep into her, pulling her into me with my muscular arms as I thrust into her with my powerful hips. I hear an echo of a moan as Holly and Tara moan almost at the exact same time. I look over my shoulder and see Tara is moving. She gets right next to us getting a better show of my cock sliding in and out of Holly. As I fuck her harder and harder, Tara fingers herself at the same pace. She is almost on the same rhythm as Holly and I. Holly moans as and rocks with orgasm as Tara rocks through one of her own. Holly quickly grabs Tara's hand and sucks Tara's juices off of her hand, which is too much for me. Watching my fiancé suck the pussy juices of a hot chick off her fingers puts me over the top and I cum deep inside of Holly, filling her with my cum. As I finish Cumming Tara kisses Holly on her cheek and washes her hands, leaving me with my cock still buried deep in Holly. When we walk out of the bathroom, no one seemed to notice and we take our seat at the table. As I pay the bill, Tara comes over and thanks us for coming to the restaurant and she hopes to see us soon. Holly quickly grabs the pen and the check from me and scribbles a message on the bill. However, she wouldn't tell me what she wrote. It now appears, Holly wrote our address and phone number on the bill and the mystery woman was Tara, with dyed hair. As I realize what has just happened I quickly sit up and both Holly and Tara look at me and nod their heads as I look at them both figuring out what had just happened. But what I didn't know was what as about to happen... Mystery Girl Ch. 02 When Ken woke up, it was the same way he'd fallen asleep; his arm wrapped around Kay's waist, her head on his chest and her arm draped over his middle. Ken looked over at the alarm clock which read 9:54 am, thinking about what day it was, he was glad that he didn't have to work. If he had worked today, he would have been late by almost three hours. His job consisted of working with people and phones. Even though he was the manager he liked to go in and help with peoples' phone problems. Deciding to get up, he unwrapped his arm from around Kay's waist and gently tried to get her off of him without waking her. Once he was out the bed, he looked back down at Kay She was searching for him and when she could find him moved to where he had been laying. Ken went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth and washed his face. Looking at his reflection, he realized that he hardly ever looked at himself closely. He had a mocha color complexion, a low-cut Caesar with deep waves, hazel eyes, a square jaw and was 6' feet tall. His body was well taken care of. He worked out twice a week and made sure he ate well. Moving out of the bathroom he headed in the direction of the stairs. Once he was downstairs, he went to the kitchen and took out eggs, bacon, butter, bread and 2 pans so he could start cooking. Fifteen minutes later, he heard someone say, "Mmmm...Smells good in here." Turning around, he said, "Hey," smiling at her he asked, "so how did you sleep?" Looking around then at him, she replied, "Great, thanks for letting me stay the night." "Do you want anything to eat?" he asked over his shoulder. "What are you making?" she asked back. "Anything you want, eggs, pancakes, bacon, sausage, French toast, toasted bread." "Some scrambled eggs and bacon would be fine. IF its not too much trouble," she replied back. Laughing lightly he exclaimed, "Coming right up!" Ken could feel her eyes on him, but thought better of turning around. Seeing Kay in his shirt, still sent a shiver through him; and knowing he was going to end up staring like last night, he stayed focused on the meal. Ten minutes later, the food was done. He set her food down in front of her and went to take a seat himself. Looking up, Kay was staring at him wide-eyed. Thinking he did something wrong, he asked, "What? Is something wrong with the food?" Kay shook her head then answered, "No, nothing is wrong. It's just that I've never tried eggs like this. What did you put in them?" Ken looked down at his plate then back at her ,"Nothing special, some salt and pepper. I also add some chopped up green peppers." Looking down at her plate she said, "well they're great," looking back at him, "And thank you for everything you've done. I appreciate it a lot." "You're welcome," he replied smiling at her. The rest of the meal went by in silence with both of them stealing glances at each other. Once they were finished Kay started to clear off the table. "What are you doing?" Ken asked slightly confused. Walking over to the sink then turning to him "I'm going to wash the dishes." "You don't have to do that. Seriously, I'll wash them." Ken was still confused. "It's the least I could do. You have helped me a lot and I want to be able to do something." She turned around and started the water. "Kay, you don't have to do it," he replied walking over to the sink. Turning to him with a serious face she said, "I'm going to wash the dishes, no big deal. Ok ken." She turned back to the sink starting to wash the dishes. Ken stared at her for a few moments, then turned and walked away. He found himself in the bathroom taking a shower and thinking about what happened downstairs. He felt as if Kay knew exactly how to get to him, one minute she was quiet and nice and the next she was demanding and sassy; something inside of him told him that he need a little fire in his life. He turned off the shower and could hear the faint sound of the TV on downstairs. Ken dried himself off, put on his boxers and wrapped his towel around his waist; he went to his room and walked over to his closet. Not knowing what to wear, he settled for a red, black and white polo stripped Rocawear shirt, a pair of black Dickies and his red and black Nikes. He put on some deodorant, his 360 cologne, brushed his hair as to get waves, put on his diamond stud earrings and silver watch with diamond cuts. Taking a look in the mirror, he decided he was ok, and then left the room. When he got back downstairs, Kay was on the couch with her legs tucked under her, watching the Tyra Show. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, she looked at him, smiled and exclaimed, "Wow, don't you look good!" looking him up and down she asked, "Got a big day planned?" Ken sat on the other end of the couch and replied, "No, just wanted to get dressed." "Um...when you have a minute can you take me home?" she asked looking at him. Still looking at the TV he replied, "Sure, when ever you're ready." "I'll go grab my things then," she replied back getting off of the couch. Ken watched her go up the stairs and then thought, 'Where was today going to take him?' Before he could snap out of his daze, Kay was back downstairs, dressed and ready to do. He turned off the TV and walked out the door, locking it behind them. Ken then led Kay over to a 2008 Honda Civic. Inside had white interior, white leather seats and a touch screen system. Thinking to himself tomorrow was his day to get his car detailed, as he did every 2 weeks. Once they were in the car, Ken asked, "Where do you live?" "1223 Blackberry Street," she replied looking out the window. "Do you know how to get there?" "Yeah, my friend lives around there." He said driving to the end of the street. The ride to Kay's house was quick and silent; neither one wanted to disrupt the others thinking. Once they reached the house, Kay looked at her house then at him. "Well thanks for everything it was fun," she said while reaching for the door handle. "You're welcome," he replied looking at her. "Um, Kay?" "Yeah?" "I really enjoyed having you around and was thinking that maybe I could get your number. So when I wanted to hang with you." "Sure, do you have a phone so I could program it in?" Ken reached in his pocket and pulled out his Blackberry Storm. He set it to where it needed to be, then handed it to her. She had done the same and handed him her phone, which was the new My Touch. They both entered their numbers and then gave the phones back. "Call whenever. I'm usually home or at work," Said Kay. "Same here." "I look forward to a call from you." She got out the car, closed the door and walked to her front door. Once she opened her door, she waved to him. Ken waited a couple minutes before he drove off, he grabbed his phone and called her number. "Hello?" she answered out of breath. "Hey, did you get inside ok?" "Um, yeah." "Well since we both want to see each other again how about tonight? 8:30 pm, dinner and a movie?" "Um, I'm not so sure-" "Oh come on, my treat." She stopped and seemed to think about the offer. "Ok then I guess it wouldn't hurt." "Great, I'll pick you up at 8;30 sharp! Bye." Laughing lightly she replied "Bye!"