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The Politician's Wife

By: Lola49



Charles and I accepted a dinner invitation from one of his business partners. The dinner was held at the Governor's Mansion; a cocktail reception at 7:00 and dinner at 8:00. 

I decided to wear a Black Halo Jackie O Dress and my black jeweled 2 inch heels and I added a splash of color with my red clutch purse. Charles looked smart in a black 2 button Italian suit; it was hand made with French piping. I made a mental note to spruce up my wardrobe since my daily wear was simply too laid back when I am out on the town with Charles. While I'm comfortable in sexy dresses with stilettos or a pair of jeans with a baby doll top and a pair of kitten hills or flats, I needed a dressier look for certain occasions. 

We arrived at the Governor's mansion a little before seven and found the guest milling about in the atrium with stemmed glasses in their hands conversing with one another on different political subjects. After cocktails we were ushered into the dining room for dinner. I must say the table settings were elegant in their simplicity. 

The Governor and his wife sat at each end of the table and the guests took seats at the place with their name card. 

Charles was seated across from his business partner and next to the Governor, so they could discuss business while they dined. I was seated next to the Governor's wife Gayle and across from Charles business partner's wife Carolyn. The other guest took their assigned chairs. Of course dinner was excellent and the conversation lively among the guests. 

The wine lowered the inhibitions of a few of the guests to the point of unbelievable boldness. Cynthia turned her feminine wiles attention on the gentleman seated across from her and next to me. She teased the rim of her glass with her tongue while her foot rubbed his penis gently through his trousers. His bulge was quite prominent and to avoid any embarrassing leakage onto his pants he excused himself from the table. 

Cynthia wasn't the only bad girl at the table that night. I had my own compromising position to deal with. Unbelievably the Governor's wife was misbehaving with the guests too, but what I couldn't believe was I had become the object of her desire. 

She started playing footsies with me under the table. I first thought perhaps it was incidental contact, but I began to get anxious when her bare foot slowly ran up and down the outside of my right calf. 

The Governess was making her bold moves on me and I had no where to go. While I've had several Sapphic cyber sex experiences, I never dreamed of taking it off line and into reality. 

Who knew the Governor's wife was a lipstick lesbian. She was smooth too, holding a conversation with a guest several places down while deliberately teasing me with her foot.

My eyes searched for Charles but he was heavily into his conversation with the Governor, leaving me to handle the states first muff diver on my own. It was flattering to be desired, but my preference is men only. 

After dinner the ladies adjourned to the parlor for cocktails, while the men went for cigars and brandy in the study. While the other guests were occupied, I went in search of an empty powder room. I wandered off to an out of the way restroom; one where I didn't think any other guest would be. I was surprised to find it occupied by Cynthia and her new friend; and they were getting busy I might add. 

I had only one choice and that was to ask Gayle where another washroom was available. My heart began to beat faster when she informed me that I could use the master bath. I feared she would lead me straight upstairs to the master's bedroom instead of the bath. I felt like a kid dreading the trip into the unknown. 

I didn't ask for Gayle's advances nor did I want to encourage her either, but I knew if I walked upstairs to the master's bathroom she would be joining me. Gayle wanted me and I knew she was determined to seduce me that evening on some level. I decided to wait even though my bladder was about to burst. I was determined to hold it as long as I could. 

I thought of taking a walk outside to squat in the bushes and release the pressure. However, I managed to slip away and locate the master bathroom on the second floor of the mansion while Gayle was called away to attend to another guests needs. 

I took advantage of Gayle's absence and discovered the bathroom had a second door that led to a plush home theater for the master suite. An open closet revealed a stack of home made videos, adult film DVDs and adult toys and accessories. 

I looked at the movie covers, noticed the titles and it explained the Governess attraction to me. There in the closet were many boxes of girl on girl movies. 

As I was about to leave, I heard a footstep and turned my head to see Gayle standing in the doorway with a smile on her face. My expression no doubt was that of a kid with his hand in the cookie jar, and I was sickened to see her standing there. 

Gayle approached asking. "Do you see anything you like in my collection of movies or perhaps my bondage and discipline equipment?" 

"There are a lot of girl on girl flicks. I assume by the way you were playing footsies with me earlier the lesbian films are yours." 

"Mmmm erotica darling it's erotica," She said, as she pressed her right breast into my back. 

"Oh my," I said, and I moved away from Gayle's sexual advance. 

"I'm really flattered Gayle but the only lesbian action I ever had was cyber girl on girl action but that was as far as I go." 

I didn't mention my high school flirtation with my friend Yvonne, no need in giving her hope. 

"Well don't you ever want to make that fantasy into a reality?" She asked. 

Then she lay down on a chaise and waited for me to make the next move. I didn't take the bait. 

"You know I find you attractive Lola. You remind me of myself as a younger woman, stunning beauty, self assured, intelligence, and your sultry voice turns even the straightest woman on. You are me, a young Gayle my darling, and I find that very attractive." 

"Thank you, I think." I said nervously smiling from the compliment. 

Where the hell is Charles when I need him? I was beginning to feel a little perturbed around Gayle. 

"Oh dear please calm down, we're both ladies and adults. I would never forcefully take you unless you requested me to ravish the tight body of yours. 

I admit her compliments worked more than the alcohol could have. I was getting a little warm from the fire of Gayle's seducing words. My loins were tingling and my legs wobbled. She arose and took hold of me and sat me on the love seat of the screening room. 

She offered me a glass of wine. Sure, as long as you don't slip me a Mickey," I said. 

We laughed at my comment as she walked over to the bar in the room and fixed me something better than wine, then handed me a White Russian. 

I asked her how she knew it was one of my favorite drinks. 

"Oh I have my way of finding out about someone if I want to," she said. 

I slowly sipped the poison knowing it could spin me out of control. Gayle watched my lips intently as they touched the rim of the glass to sip the alcohol. 

I soon felt warm from the vodka spreading through my body. Gayle sensed my weakness and asked if she could refill the glass before she chanced another step toward her passions thrill. I was determined not to let her take control of the situation. Now, if this had been Charles I would have allowed myself to be taken without resistance. 

Gayle handed me the second cocktail and sat next to me. Suddenly Gayle pressed her lips against my neck, her breath felt warm as she kissed me. My heart was beating fast as her hand began to knead my right thigh. Slowly the hand moved up my inner thigh, my muscles froze and refused to obey my mind as I thought "Close your legs." I had made a commitment to Charles and no one not even my gynecologist had permission to enter my secret garden without my consent. 

Gayle soft touch had me leaking my sweet juice inside my red lace panties that I was expecting Charles to remove with his mouth back at our place for a night of passion and now the State's First Lady had started something I was not about to allow her to finish. 

If I were into women Gayle would definitely be in the running for a wild passionate adventure with me. Even the most beautiful woman in the world does have a chance with me. 

Now I have always had an attraction to the actress Selma Hayek, and if I were an actress I would make it a point to be in a movie with her. Even if it was a one line role I would do it as long as it was with Selma. 

Imagine the wet dreams I would have after being with her. Can women have wet dreams? I'm not sure but that woman would be the reason for sweet spills on my satin sheets. Gayle wasn't my fantasy girl, and I like girl on girl fantasies, but just the fantasy. 

I love the real McCoy and nothing is better than that firm part of the male anatomy rubbing deep inside of my pearl. Gayle felt the hesitation toward her advances on me and pulled away. 

I told her I was sorry but I wasn't into women and her secret was safe with me. I was flattered that she found me attractive and she had started a spark that I was saving for Charles to inflame. 

She smiled and asked if I could leave her with something to remind her of me. So I lean over and gave her a passionate French kiss. I am a wicked tease and torturer of souls but it's what I do. If I know there is an attraction toward me I can tease the hell out of the person, only to consummate the passion with the man who shares my bed. 

We walked toward the door holding hands as I tortured Gayle one last time. I slid my hand underneath her dress, and into her panties. Then using my thumb and forefinger to part her flowers lips ever so gently and let her juice flow onto my finger. 

I removed my finger rubbed it on her lips, before kissing her softly on the mouth. She sigh a soft whimper as I whispered in her ear think of me tonight while he's fucking that sweet pussy you want me in. 

I left Mrs. Governor weak at the knees, and walked away to find Charles. He was in the study with one arm propped up against the mantle. When I walked into the room he came over to me until we were inches apart. 

I whispered in his ear that I had been a bad girl with the Governor's wife. I told him she tried to seduce me but I told her this sweet pearl belong to you only. But I left her with a little something to remember me by. 

Charles leaned over and kissed my forehead and whisper in my ear. Maybe I should thank the Governess for warming you up for me. 

"Charles, you are so bad." I said. 

"No my lady, I think that term applies to you. It's your world I'm just a squirrel waiting to bust a nut inside you." 

"Charles that's not the way that saying goes," I informed him. 

Charles laughed and said "I bet it goes that way tonight. Besides, I love it when you're bad because you make love to me so damn good."

The Politician's Wife



Over the years Alison had accompanied her husband to many official functions and even represented him at some herself but none had made her feel as uneasy as the one she was due to attend tonight. John, her husband, had gradually climbed the ranks in his favoured political Party and now he was one of only two men who were being considered for the top job. The other was Peter Campbell, a brute of a man, the exact opposite of her kindly husband but someone who had a charisma and an attraction that even she couldn't deny. And it was to his house that she had been invited tonight.

John had unexpectedly been asked to attend a conference in Europe and had left that morning but had insisted that she still attend Peter's house. It was officially a fund raiser to help raise money for the upcoming election but everyone knew that it was really John and Peter's last chance to impress the party's grandees who would make the decision as to who would lead the party into the imminent battle. John was furious that he was going to miss out on this chance but there was nothing he could do so pleaded with Alison to represent him one more time. She wasn't interested in politics herself but she did enjoy the social life that came with her husband's position and she certainly enjoyed the trappings of his wealth and position so, reluctantly, she agreed to go.

By mid afternoon she was getting ready, She would often feel neglected by John at these events but she always made a big effort to look her best, and her sexiest, wherever she went, especially when she knew the other members of the Party, along with their wives or latest mistresses, would be there.

She took a long hot bath and, as her body soaked, wondered what to wear. Climbing out of the large bathtub, she wrapped herself in a soft, white towel and walked from the en-suite into their luxurious bedroom. Patting herself dry and searching through her extensive range of body lotions, she selected the new, scented body lotion that she had purchased earlier that day. Opening the cap and pouring some of the white lotion into her palms, she slowly rubbed them together before smoothing the silky lotion over her newly shaved legs. The lotion was cool, refreshing, and her skin warmed beneath her touch, soft and smooth.

Deciding to choose her underwear first, she picked out a black quarter cup bra, her favourite suspender belt and black seamed stockings. She toyed with the idea of not wearing any knickers but eventually decided to play safe and to wear the tiny black thong that matched the rest of her ensemble. Fitting her bra under her round breasts, she knew she didn't need the extra support it gave, pushing her tits forward. They were still firm with only the slightest sag, a testament to the many hours she had spent in the gym in her younger years, and now, at her yoga classes. And she loved the way this bra freed her nipples to rub against her dress. All night they would be stimulated every time she moved but only she would ever know. Rolling her stockings up her logs before attaching them to each of the straps hanging from her suspender belt, she knew that she was being naughty but no-one would ever know. She loved the fantasy of a man taking her by surprise and not having to worry about pulling down tights. With stockings her pussy felt much more accessible – and she felt much more sexy, even if it was all just for her.. 

Alison stood in front of her full length mirror and her eyes drifted down her body. She may have been a woman of nearly sixty but she knew her firm, sexy body convinced everyone she was at least a decade younger. She loved the feel of her silk stockings on her smooth skin and it wasn't just her legs she had shaved in the bath. Her pussy was equally bald and she ran her finger tips over her soft lips wishing that John hadn't had to go away. Not that he would have noticed the effort she was making. Politics and the party were the loves of his life and Alison couldn't help but be reminded of the fantasies she used to have when she was younger; fantasies of being taken roughly and used by a real man, one who would push her to the very limits of her tolerance and awake the desires in her that had for so long been neglected. Only once had that come close to happening to her recently and that had been a mistake.

With one hand she stroked her smooth stomach while her other slipped under the tiny thong, allowing her long finger to penetrate her smooth slit and brush against her clit. At once it stiffened as her whole body trembled, tempting her to bring herself to yet another self-induced orgasm. But she resisted, telling herself she had to stay fresh for the evening ahead. Maybe later, she promised herself.

Carefully, sparingly, applying her make-up, making sure her shoulder length blonde hair sat perfectly, she dabbed on a few spots of her favourite Chanel, before finally slipping into her dress. She had bought it specifically for this party, hoping to impress the old men of the Party for John's sake. It showed off plenty of her smooth skin but all the important parts were covered. The neckline plunged to the very strap between the cups of her bra while the hem was just touching her knees as befitted the current fashion and her years. But it was the wrap-over style which felt so daring to Alison as a brave hand could easily make it's way up to her stocking tops, and beyond.

Making her way down the elegant staircase, she was helped into her fur coat by their loyal butler who then opened the front door for her. Waiting at the bottom of the stair was the limousine and their chauffeur. For a moment Alison hesitated because it was with this driver that she had made the biggest mistake of her married life. She had tried to convince John to fire him but he said he was too busy to find a new one so the current one would have to do.

Alan, the chauffeur, opened the car door for her with a smug grin on his face. She tried to ignore him but couldn't ignore the tingle in her pussy as she remembered what they had done in the back seat of the car only last week. Settling into the leather seat for the short drive, she spent the time forcing an image of her sucking the chauffeur's cock out of her mind.

She really didn't need the limousine tonight as Peter was a neighbour but she liked to make an entrance to these events. In no time at all she was being driven up the long drive to his equally impressive house and then the car stopped. She waited until the door was opened for her and, once again, she was met by the smug grin of her driver. She refused his assistance out of the car and haughtily climbed the stairs to Peter's front door.

"Your time is coming, bitch," swore the chauffeur under his breath, secretly wishing he could stay to watch the fun.

The door was opened to her by Peter's wife and they kissed each other warmly on the cheek before her coat was taken from her and she joined the party. She didn't see Peter at first and it was a full thirty minutes and more before he appeared at her side as she discussed the recent fashion show with a few other women of the Party. 

"Could I have a quick word, Alison," he said to her, excusing them both from the company of the other women. "I've had a message from John."

She didn't care for the way he forcibly took her by the elbow and led her away from the party but she was intrigued as to why John would send a message for her to Peter. He led her down a long corridor, the walls covered in expensive, original art, until the music was only a tiny sound in the distance.

"In here," Peter said, opening the last door to what was obviously his private office. It was dominated by a huge wooden desk and was exactly what she would have imagined his office to look like, big overstuffed sofas, the walls lined with bookshelves and everything giving the impression of a man of power.

"It's on my desk," Peter said, letting go of her arm. Alison was in too much of a hurry to see the message to notice her host flicking a switch, even though the room was already well lit, nor to notice him locking the door.

As she hurried across the room to the desk all she could see was a large envelope.

"Open it," commanded Peter in a tone she didn't care for as she began to turn to question him.

Alison snatched the envelope from the desk but hesitantly lifted the flat, filled with a sudden sense of foreboding that something was badly wrong and that something even worse was about to happen. 

She reached in, withdrawing a large, very clear photograph that was about to change her life. Peter smiled wickedly when he heard her gasp because he knew that she was looking at concrete proof she had seduced her chauffeur in the back seat of her husband's ministerial car. He knew because he had paid both the photographer and the chauffeur to ensure the car had seemed to breakdown and they had been forced to pull into the very lay-by where the photographer was waiting, hiding only a few feet away in the bushes. They had both done an excellent job and he had rewarded them handsomely but it was well worth every penny. He was about to teach this bitch a lesson once and for all and, in a few weeks time, when he tired of this whore, he was going to ruin her husband's political career. The cameras he had switched on when they entered the room would be even better than the ones the photographer had produced. And this time he would have video and sound too. He could hardly wait. 

Alison, however, hadn't reached her position in life without facing a crisis or two. After a moment or two she had composed herself and looked Peter in the eye.

"So how much do you want, Peter?"

He smiled in a way that disturbed her almost as much as the photograph had.

"Does it look like I need money, you stupid cunt? No. You are going to pay with something much more personal than your husband's money. I want what the chauffeur had."

No one had ever spoken to her like that in her whole life and she was taken aback.

"You're mad if you think I'm going to do that for you. This was a mistake and John will understand when I tell him the chauffeur forced me to do it."

"I don't doubt that you could probably convince your sap of a husband that none of this was your fault but what about the media, the voters, the Party? All I have to do is send an email to all the newspapers, TV stations and Party leaders and John's career is finished. Not to mention your spoiled little life. Now get on your knees."

Alison knew she was defeated and did as she was told, sinking to the floor in dismay. A moment of pleasure with a man she hardly knew and now she would have to submit to this brute. But she knew that John's career would never survive and, despite her brave words, she wasn't even sure her marriage would if that photograph became public. She was too lost in despair to wonder who had taken the photo or how it had come to be in Peter's possession but she knew she had no choice but to obey him. She felt so humiliated and so stupid, especially as it was her own fault for finding herself in this position. "Just get it over with," she told herself. "Give him what he wants and I will make sure John fires the chauffeur as soon as he comes home. But this is so horrible, so demeaning, having to suck this creep's cock just because I allowed myself a little moment of pleasure. Well, maybe if I do this quickly it won't be too bad."

Peter advanced on her, opening his belt and allowing is trousers to slide down his muscular legs to the floor. Alison could see the large bulge in front of his boxers already and she almost, instinctively, licked her lips in anticipation. She stopped herself just in time but she couldn't stop her pussy starting to juice. Nor could she stop the gasp that escaped her mouth when he pulled down his shorts and she was faced with the cock she had waited all her life to see. It was much bigger than John's, bigger even than the chauffeur's, but it was the width that shocked her and she wondered how she would ever get it in her mouth. The thought of taking it down her throat never even entered her head.

Peter reached out and placed his large hand behind her head, slowly, gently almost, guiding her face down, closer and closer to his throbbing cock. Teasingly, he rubbed it over her cheeks, slapping her face with his hard piece of meat, rubbing it along her lips, smearing them with the pre-cum already leaking from his tip. Her mouth had instinctively opened and Peter knew how it would look on the video. He decided to make that film even more damning.

"Beg for it."

"What?"

"Beg for my cock. Tell me you want to suck the cum out of my balls. And make it convincing or I send those emails and you and John are finished."

Alison knew she had no choice.

"Please, Peter, please feed me your big cock. Fuck my mouth and shoot your cum down my throat."

"Wow," thought Peter, "the whore is good at this. I hope she can suck cock as well as she can act."

Finally he slid into her waiting mouth.

Alison closed her eyes as she reached this point of no return. Maybe she could just pretend it was her husband as long as she didn't have to look at him. Maybe a quick blowjob would satisfy him and this whole nightmare would be over. Ashamed, but knowing she had no other choice, Alison began to do something that at least she knew she was good at. As soon as his hard cock touched her lips she was revolted by his taste, his smell, but yet her heart was beating rapidly and her pussy was becoming moist as she grabbed hold of his cock with one hand and, ever so slowly, her tongue touched the underside of his cock, and she began to lick this pig's hard meat. Immediately she saw his pre-cum begin to leak as his cock twitched under the touch of her wet tongue. 

He looked down as the bitch began to suck his cock. The sight of the wife of his nearest rival going up and down on him was one he had waited a long time to see and it had all been so easy; he should have done it years ago. The touch of her soft lips sliding along his cock was amazing and, slowly but surely, she began to take more and more of him into her mouth. Soon he felt the back of her throat as her warm mouth tried to encase his whole cock but he was just too big for her. Occasionally she would pull off and use only her tongue displaying all the skills she had learned in college but which had been so neglected until recently. 

He frowned for a moment as his cock sprang free of her lips but then smiled down at her as she began to run her tongue through his balls. He moaned out loud, certain that no-one would hear him at the distant party. As she continued to lash his balls with her wet tongue another drop of pre-cum begin to slide down his cock but Alison ignored it as she took his my entire sack into her mouth and sucked hungrily on it. Almost reluctantly she returned to sliding her tongue up and down his shaft and, almost reluctantly, he allowed her. Now she noticed the pre-cum and licked greedily at it.

"If I'd wanted a college girl's blowjob I would have gone to college," growled Peter. "Take it all, like the cock-sucking whore you are."

Alison knew he wanted her to open her throat to him but she knew she would never survive if she did. Peter, however, wasn't interested in what she thought. He put his hands on the back of her head and forced his cock to the back of her mouth. Alison gagged and tried to pull away but Peter took a firm grip of her hair and held her fast. She was going to have to do this, somehow.

As her gagging became noisier and her struggling more forceful, Peter seemed to be enjoying himself even more but eventually he took mercy on her and let her pull back just a fraction to catch some much needed breaths. Spit and drool poured from her mouth all over his hard cock and balls and he wasn't sure he liked that so he slammed her head back down again until his cock was finally lodged in her throat.

Alison thought she was going to pass out because she knew his cock was much too big to fit in her throat but, despite her struggling, it just kept going deeper. The shock of the last ten minutes was muddling her thinking but somewhere she knew she wanted this, wanted to be taken like this, wanted to feel this big cock sliding down her throat.

Peter let her breathe again for a minute before ramming his cock back down her throat, holding her head down, enjoying the feeling of her tight throat going into spasm around his meat. He grabbed her hair and fucked her face by bobbing her head up and down while, at the same time, he thrust into her mouth driving his cock deeper and deeper each time.

Very soon he felt his balls start to tighten and he relaxed his grip just a little, allowing her to slip back. This time Alison never stopped for a moment as her head continued to move up and down while her tongue slid up and down the underside of his shaft. He felt his balls begin to contract and he knew he wasn't going to be able to hold back any longer. 

The first load of cum rushed up his shaft and he felt it splash into Alison's throat as she continued to slide her mouth up and down. The second spasm in his balls sent cum racing up his cock just as he pulled her mouth off him and his cum shot forth, landing across her face. There was a string of cum from the corner of her nose that ran all the way across her cheek and ended on her jaw. The next spurt almost covered her eyes and Peter felt that might be the last. 

He took his cock in his hand and smeared it across her face, making sure her whole face was covered in her cum and her make-up was ruined. She looked up at him, afraid to open her eyes more than a little, afraid that his salty cum would sting them. 

"You've got what you wanted. May I go now?"

"Go? No, you stupid cunt, you're not going anywhere. I've got quite a few more photographs to show you and you're going to be here for some time yet. Get used to being my whore, bitch, because that is what you are now and I am going to use you like you've never been used before."

Alison's head slumped in defeat but her pussy tingled in anticipation and she couldn't believe how wet her thong felt as she could feel that the tiny piece of material covering her pussy was absolutely saturated.

"Stand up, slut."

Alison did as she was told but was still a bit uncertain as to what would be expected of her next. She didn't have to wait too long to find out. Steeling herself to what might happen, she tried to raise her head, tried not to let Peter know that he had defeated her already but, she realised, it's difficult to hold your head high when your face is covered in cum.

Peter sat back in his leather easy chair, the glass of champagne he had brought with him still in his hand. Taking a satisfying drink, he looked up at her.

"I want to see your tits now, bitch."

No one had ever spoken to her like this. No one. Why then did the tone of his voice, the crude language, the authority, thrill her in a way she could never have imagined? Not having an answer, she stood there before him for a moment, hesitating, before she blushed and began to pull her dress off her shoulders. 

It clung tightly to her body so that even when she released it, it settled around her waist and she could think of nothing to do with her hands but hold them by her side. But it wasn't her hands that Peter was looking at. He was mesmerised by her breasts, much fuller and perkier than he would have imagined. And he loved the way her small bra allowed her nipples to be free, nipples that were already engorged and, he imagined, longing to be sucked. 

"Magnificent," he thought but he wasn't prepared to let her know what he was thinking.

"I suppose you better keep your cheap bra on or your old saggy tits will fall to the floor. Still, I suppose there's enough of them to wrap around my cock. Time to show me your arse now. Is it as droopy as your tits?"




The Politician's Wife



Many emotions raced across Alison's face at that moment as she tried to reconcile herself to this new humiliation. She turned around and pushed her dress down over her hips, wiggling them in a mesmerising display that had Peter's cock stirring again.

"Come closer, slut. I wouldn't want to miss anything."

Obediently she dropped her dress to the floor, stepped out of it, then turned and walked towards him before turning round again, desperate for him not to see just how embarrassed she was at that moment. Peter was thrilled to see she was wearing a thong; it would have been really off-putting if she had been wearing the type of big knickers that his wife always wore. And her stockings were perfect. Time to increase the pressure even more, he thought.

"Pull that slutty thong to one side and bend over, whore. I want to see your arsehole." 

Although Alison was facing away from him, he could see her whole body tense at these instructions and could imagine the shame making her face blush an even deeper shade of red. She had never considered anal sex to be anything other than perverted and had never allowed John to as much as touch her tightest hole. Peter couldn't have known this but he did wonder whether or not she was an anal virgin, even at her age. He was looking forward to finding out. 

"Just as I imagined," he said. "Your arsehole is the tightest part of your whole body. I bet John has never even had a finger up there. Am I right?"

Alison tried hard to stifle a sob at that part and simply nodded. "Excellent," he thought.

"Well prepare yourself to loose your final virginity, slut. Before tonight is out you will be begging me to fuck your arsehole and I will be only too delighted to slide my cock somewhere your husband has never been."

He watched in delight as her whole body trembled. Fear, he imagined; shame perhaps. He couldn't have known that her pussy was soaking her tiny thong once more and that it was anticipation that was really making her tremble. 

"OK, turn around. Time to show off your pussy."

Alison did as she was told and pulled her thong to the side while Peter looked closely, delighted to see that she was totally shaven but that wasn't all that delighted him. Her pussy lips were puffy and were obviously moist. 

"So you liked me looking at your dirty arsehole, did you, slut? Your cunt is practically dripping."

She didn't know why but Alison simply nodded, unable to take any more embarrassment but equally unable to deny that she was more aroused than she had ever been. Peter simply smiled but it wasn't a particularly pleasant smile. 

"Lie on my desk, slut. I want a taste of that cunt."

Alison shivered again. Oral sex was something she did enjoy but something that had become more and more rare in her marital bed. So much so that she couldn't remember the last time John had eaten her pussy and now she was going to have to allow his rival to do just that.

She sat on the edge of the large desk, the leather inlay offering her only the slightest protection from the hard wood. Lying back, her legs still dangling over the edge, she concentrated on the ceiling, gripping the edge tightly. She couldn't see Peter now but she heard him rising from his armchair and she stiffened in anticipation of what was to happen next.

In an instant Peter was upon her. He lifted her legs until they were bent at the knees, her heels hooked on to the edge of the desk, before pushing her thong to one side and rubbing two fingers over her wet slit. Alison was almost unprepared for this but, instinctively, she opened her legs slightly, giving her tormentor even easier access, almost welcoming the rough touch.

Peter easily slipped his fingers inside, wondering if should force this bitch to take three. Her pussy was so wet he was sure she would be able to take them but he was looking forward to stretching her with his cock so settled for two and leaned over her prone body.

Alison turned away when he tried to kiss her but he simply nibbled on her ear then kissed down her neck instead. When he wanted to kiss her on the lips, he would, but that could wait. Instead he thrust his fingers deeper into her cunt, kissing his way down to her nipples before sucking them into his mouth, one after the other.

Alison tried to deny the pleasure her body was deriving from the kind of handling she'd fantasised about for so long. Squirming beneath him, she turned to him and pleaded.

"Please, Peter, no. You shouldn't do this. I'm John's wife. You're married."

"I can do anything I want, you stupid bitch. Haven't you got that yet? It's because you're John's wife that we're doing this and if you want my wife to come in and join us then you only have to say the word."

She shivered beneath him, afraid and aroused, not sure if the humiliation of being seen in this position by Peter's wife, Wendy, was more shameful than the flood of juices from her pussy that followed his words. She had never thought of other women in that way before but suddenly her body seemed open to any possibility. 

The thought both repulsed her and excited her as she feebly tried to push him away but she couldn't move him so much as an inch. The assault on her nipples continued as he bit down on one, then the other, pulling them with his teeth, stretching them more than they ever had been stretched before. 

As his fingers plunged in and out of her, Alison knew she was going to cum. She had been on the very edge for so long now that she couldn't have stopped it. The evening's events ran through her mind, the humiliation, the name-calling, realising she had been photographed in compromising positions, sucking on Peter's cock, the cum shooting down her throat and over her face, the stripping and now the long-awaited attack on her pussy and nipples. It was all too much so when Peter bit down harder on her poor nipple, when his thumb began to stroke her engorged clit, she could hold it back no longer. Her pussy exploded and her juices covered Peter's fingers and hand. It seemed to go on and on forever, wave after wave washing over her, and, when her body finally calmed down, Peter had his head between her legs. 

She felt his tongue lash her sensitive lips and, the more she pleaded with him to stop, the faster his tongue worked. When he took her clit in her mouth and sucked on it she thought she was going to cum again instantly. Instead, it only took him to nibble her clit with his teeth while reaching under her and forcing a finger between her cheeks to rub against her dirtiest hole for the juices to pour forth and her body to spasm in another overpowering orgasm.

This time when she recovered Peter was leaning over her again and, this time, she could do nothing to stop him kissing her on the lips. Having sucked the juices from her pussy, Alison knew that when his tongue invaded her mouth that it wasn't Peter she was tasting. He was delivering her first ever taste of pussy and somewhere in her tormented mind she wished that it hadn't been her own. 

When he was finished feeding her the taste of her own cunt, Peter picked her up like a floppy rag-doll and turned her over, laying her face down on the wide desk. She tried to push back up but he simply grabbed her arm and twisted it up her back, so high she thought it was going to break. 

"Time for you to be fucked, slut."

He looked down at her quivering legs, loving the sight of her round cheeks, and thought about ripping off her thong. Then another thought entered his head. Releasing her arm he knelt down behind her, lowering her tiny, saturated thong with an almost gentle touch.

Alison sensed rather than saw him standing upright again unable to move she was so weakened by her quick-fire double orgasm. She knew what was coming next but when she heard Peter take a deep breath she looked round and saw him holding her thong to his face, inhaling the scent of her arousal. 

She hung her head in shame once more, unable to deny that it was her body, her pussy, that had responded to Peter's treatment so wantonly. If that was bad enough, Peter had one more torment to inflict before he fucked her.

Pulling her head up by the hair, he fitted her thong over her head, the gusset resting over her mouth, the back strap rubbing against her nose. If she breathed in through her nose, all she could smell was her arsehole. If she opened her mouth, she was met by her soaking gusset. She was disgusted and so turned on she couldn't wait to take Peter's cock into her pussy.

"Now there's no denying how much of a slut you are. I'm willing to bet you're just desperate to be fucked. Aren't you?"

"No, Peter. We mustn't do this. Please let me go."

"And deny you the feeling of your cunt being stretched by my cock? I don't think so. But I want you to do something for me now, slut. I want you to beg for it."

Alison thought she must have misheard him but, when she felt his hard-again cock pressing between the cheeks of her arse she thought maybe he would be satisfied with fucking her pussy and leave her tightest hole alone. So she decided to play along.

"Please, Peter, please do it to me."

"You'll have to better than that, you whore. Don't suddenly become shy when you're lying there, naked, desperate to be fucked. Where do you want to be fucked?"

Taking a deep breath, she answered in words she would never have considered saying before tonight.

"In my pussy, Peter."

"You want me to fuck your cunt?"

"Yes."

"You want me to fuck your cunt with my big, fat cock?"

"Yes."

"Then say it. Beg me to fuck you the way you need to be fucked. Convince me."

"Please, Peter, please fuck my cunt. Fuck my slutty cunt with your big, fat cock and fill me with your cum. Fuck me like I've never been fucked before and make we cum again on your cock."

Never one to disappoint a lady, Peter kicked her feet further apart and got into position, the tip of his cock now resting against the entrance to her waiting pussy. Alison could do nothing but wait for it to happen, trying hard to convince herself she had no choice but to lie there and let this evil man do what he wanted.

Closing her eyes, she told herself she was saving her marriage, was saving Peter's career but, as Peter buried himself inside her pussy with one push, her body told her something else entirely.

She tried to think of something else, anything else; she tried to block out what was happening to her, determined not to let her body respond. But her body had other ideas. When she felt Peter's cock fill her cunt (there, she used the word) she knew she had never been filled like this.

Each time he pulled out and slammed back in a small moan escaped from her mouth and, as much as she hated what was happening, she wanted more. Pushing her self up she tried to get into an better position so that he could plough even deeper.

Peter was in heaven, finally fucking the uptight woman of his dreams, his fantasies. The fact that she was John's wife only served to make the whole night even sweeter. Watching his cock slide in and out of her lips, as soon as he felt her pushing back he pounded her even harder, even faster.

Alison knew she could no longer control herself. She was going to cum again and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She pushed back, meeting his thrusts, trying to draw him in even deeper. That's when she lost control completely.

"Yes, Peter. Fuck me, you pig. Fuck me harder. Harder! Give me all you've got."

Peter couldn't believe these words were coming from the mouth of the genteel pillar of the community who lay beneath him. But he certainly wasn't going to hold back. He took her by the arms again and pulled them back behind her, lifting her off his desk, using them as handles to drive into her harder than he had ever fucked anyone.

She was screaming one obscenity after the other and Peter felt her cunt squeeze his cock, her juices pouring down over his balls. 

Alison was like a different woman, one that neither of them recognised. The wife, the mother, the grandmother had disappeared. In her place was a slut who could only think of the cock pounding her pussy. Nothing else mattered. Not her husband, her self respect, nothing. She just couldn't get enough of this cock. She was a slut, a whore, and she didn't care.

Peter, meanwhile, could feel the familiar tingle in his balls. He had never known a fuck like this but he wasn't going to let an opportunity like this pass him by. Taking both her wrists in one of his big hands, his other hand moved down between her cheeks until his finger found what he was looking for. 

He rubbed her dirtiest hole, toying with her, until she pushed back and his finger slipped inside. Alison screamed at this unknown, welcome intrusion. Now when she pushed back it wasn't only Peter's cock that pushed into her pussy but his finger which worked deeper and deeper into her arse.

Again she screamed at him, unaware that every word, every action was being recorded.

"Do it, Peter! Fuck me! Fuck my cunt! Stick your finger deeper up my arse! Oh God, I'm going to cum again!"

She was desperate to touch her clit but Peter held both her wrists in his strong grip so all she could do was push back on his cock and on his finger. She felt her pussy tighten around him and Peter felt his cock swell within her. She threw back her head and screamed as he pumped his cum deep within her. Her orgasm erupted from somewhere deep inside her as her juices gushed from her ravaged cunt. The more he filled her, the more she soaked his cock and balls.

Finally, they stopped, both of them well and truly drained. Collapsing on to the desk, they both lay there for a while until his cock slipped out of her cunt.

Alison held on to the desk, afraid that if she let go she would fall to the floor, her legs no longer capable of supporting her. Seeing Peter standing behind her, his soft cock now dripping form their combined orgasms, she was suddenly ashamed of what had happened.

How could she possibly have said those things, done those things? She lifted her thong off her head and forced herself up just a little, fearful of the answer to her next question.

"Have you finished with me now?"

"I promised I was going to fuck you up the arse, you stupid cunt. Have we done that yet? No. Of course not. Maybe when I've taken your last virginity I'll let you leave. Maybe. But until then it's time you did some work. Crawl over her on your hands and knees. You're going to lick my arsehole now."

Weak as she was, she still managed to feel the shock of this new demand.

"Please, Peter. I've never heard of such a thing. Please don't make me do that. It's just too disgusting."

He had planned ahead for this moment, however, and picked up another envelope from the small table beside his chair. He threw it at her and Alison slid off the desk, fearing what she knew she would find when she opened it.

Sure enough, it was yet another photo of her and the chauffeur only this one was even worse than the first one. She was on her hands and knees in the back of the limousine as the chauffeur pulled her head back by her blonde hair and pounded into her from behind. The look of ecstasy on her face left nothing to the imagination and she realised she would be forced to lick a man's arsehole for the first time ever. Her very soul cringed at the thought but, once again, she knew she had no choice. 

Peter leaned further back in his armchair and lifted his knees up to his chest, exposing his arsehole to her. He thought he had been kind to her by making sure it was clean but still she looked away. He knew this was going to be the hardest submission for her, so far.

"Get over her, slut."

He loved using such abusive terms with her and, every time he did, Alison flinched, her face reddening anew. He could see she was thinking that maybe she could somehow get out of this but eventually, reluctantly, she crawled across to where he sat. When she was close enough he grabbed her hair, pulling her face ever closer to his arse. The look on her face clearly told how horrified she was at what she was about to do and she tried to pull back. But his grip remained firm and soon she found herself just inches from his waiting hole. Once again she closed her eyes.

"Open your eyes, slut. Open your eyes and look at my arsehole."

He gave another tug on her hair and her eyes opened.

"Now lick it." He pulled her in, and he saw that she was beaten. She leaned forward and, tentatively kissed his hole. He smiled to himself as he heard her take a deep breath and, as he held her tightly in position, he felt her tongue finally poking against it too. 

"What a good arse licker, you make, Alison. Now let me feel you really get to work with your tongue. Clean my arsehole for me."

Alison shuddered anew, not sure if she was more disgusted by his words or by what he was forcing her to do. Because he really was forcing her this time. There was no pleasure in this for her at all. Or so she told herself until she suddenly realised her hand was between her legs and stroking her wet, sensitive pussy.

Mercifully, or so Peter liked to think, he decided that he didn't need this small episode to go on for too long. Humiliating this stuck-up bitch was the most important thing here and he knew he had more than succeeded in that. 

Pulling her away from between his cheeks, he pushed her back, smiling when he saw her hand on her cunt, and told her to turn around. Looking down on her as she waited in trepidation, his newly erect cock twitched again. He loved taking a woman on all fours; it was such a subservient position that he had always loved. He loved having access to both her holes; he loved being in charge; and he loved, most of all, the power that came from having a hold over her.

He knelt down behind her and noticed her pussy was still dripping with her cum and with his. He wet one finger, rubbing it along her dripping slit, before smearing its coating around her tight arsehole. Alison immediately tensed up but he kept repeating what he was doing until she relaxed slightly again. 

Alison knew what was coming. No one had ever done this too her but she knew from talking to her girlfriends that the secret was to try to relax although how she could relax when she was being blackmailed, when she was being abused, when she was waiting for the biggest cock she had ever seen to fuck her virgin arsehole, was beyond her.

She took a deep breath and tried again to relax. It felt so dirty, so nasty, but she tried to think of something else, hoping the distraction would stop her mind from focussing on what was about to happen. But her body couldn't ignore the fact that her husband's bitterest rival was fingering her dirtiest hole and there was nothing she could do about it.

Seeing the effort she was making, Peter grinned and decided now was the time to push a little harder. Coating his finger in her juices once more he pressed against her arsehole again and, this time, pushed inside. She had already got his cock nice and hard by licking his own arsehole but the thought of finally fucking her up the arse made his cock twitch in anticipation and his pre-cum start to leak once more.

In her current position, on her hands and knees, her arse in the air, he knew she must be feeling at her most vulnerable and he intended to take advantage. Her pussy lips were swollen, puffy, smooth and wet and he let her know exactly how she looked.

"So you're enjoying this are you, slut?"

She shook her head vehemently but he knew her body was telling him something different.

"Don't lie to me, whore. Your cunt is practically dripping and your arse is squeezing my finger. You must really want my cock up there."

"No, Peter. Please don't do this. You're far too big for me. You'll tear me apart."

"Well you should have thought of that before you started whoring around, shouldn't you? Now shut up; I'm enjoying myself here."




The Politician's Wife



And he was. He loved getting a woman's arsehole ready to be fucked, especially one as tight as this one, one which had never been fucked before. What he did next, however, shocked Alison almost as much as his finger entering her.

He bent over and ran his wet tongue around the outside of her tight hole, tasting her there for the first time but, he knew, not for the last. She had been humiliated enough when she had been forced to lick his hole but she thought she would die of shame when he began to push his tongue gently inside.

Alison gasped, amazed to realise it didn't feel too bad. Peter leaned in even closer and put his whole mouth over her hole, sucking, giving her sensations she neither knew nor understood. She felt him dipping his finger into her pussy again and she pushed back on him, wishing, hoping, that she could tempt him away from her forbidden hole.

Peter had other ideas of course and he withdrew from her cunt and brought it back to her arsehole. This time he didn't stop at just his fingertip but pushed in even further to the first knuckle. Her body tensed and she forced herself to relax again but, each time she did, he pushed in a little deeper. 

She was moaning now, moaning at the shame of his finger's intrusion, moaning at the discomfort but, most of all, moaning in anticipation. She knew this to be true but she did everything not to acknowledge the feelings coursing through her.

When his finger was buried all the way inside her, he began to move it in and out, loving the sight as he thought how good it was going to feel when he replaced his finger with his cock.

"Enjoying that, slut?"

Alison had closed her eyes, trying hard to reconcile what she was feeling with her previous beliefs about how perverted anal sex was. She was surprised at how good it felt, how different it felt from a finger in her pussy. She shook her head, telling him she hated what he was doing, but her moans were turning into moans of pleasure, moans of lust and Peter knew exactly what those moans meant.

"I don't believe you, slut. I can tell exactly what you want and you're going to get it. I'm going to stretch your arsehole so wide you'll wonder if it will ever recover. I'm going to make you scream so loud the neighbours will think you're being murdered."

Having promised her an arse-fucking she would never forget, he startled her by withdrawing his finger. She almost felt bereft without it and looked back to see what he was going to do next. She soon found out.

Peter buried two fingers in her pussy this time and covered them in her juices, juices that were once more pouring from her. Alison knew that he was using two fingers now but still couldn't believe he was going to push them both up her arse. But he did. And when he did she was shocked once more to realise it didn't frighten her as much as she thought it would. In fact, if she was honest, she would admit it didn't hurt the way she had expected either. It felt really tight but really good too. She hoped he would push them deeper inside, pushing back, trying to encourage him.

Desperate to fuck her tight hole, he knew he had to take his time, knew that if he did this right she would be his anal whore from then on. He pushed, he probed, gently stretching her little by little, preparing her for something much bigger than his fingers. Reaching below her with his other hand, he began to tickle her swollen clit and, as she groaned in appreciation, he knew she wasn't far from cumming once again.

"Oh, God, yes!" she screamed. Do it, Peter! Fuck my arse with your fingers! O, God! I'm cumming. I'm cumming!"

Her tight hole clamped down, hard, on his fingers and her pussy went into spasm as, once again, her juices covered his other hand and poured down her thighs. Collapsing down onto the thick carpet, she lay there, totally spent. Peter knew now was the time. 

He raised her hips and pushed a cushion beneath her then positioned his throbbing cock at the entrance to her virgin hole. He pressed against her and his head forced its way in. He had prepared her well and his own pre-cum lubricated his passage as he forced himself deeper and deeper into probably the tightest arse he had ever fucked. Watching his cock disappearing into that very hole he thought he had died and gone to heaven. 

Alison had started to recover from her orgasm by now and she was very aware of just how deep he was in her dirtiest hole. She realised now she wanted him to fuck her, wanted him to fuck her tight hole, wanted him to stretch her, wanted him to make her scream, wanted him to make her cum. Again!

"Peter, do it! Fuck my arsehole. It feels so good. I want you to fill me with your cock. Fill me with your cum. Do it! Please do it!"

"Don't worry, slut. I'll do it. Your arse looks so hot swallowing my cock. You're so tight, so hot, you arse-fucking whore."

"Fuck my arsehole hard, Peter, please! Fuck it hard!" Alison yelled. She pushed her arse hard against him, surprising him. She couldn't help herself; it felt so good, so wrong, so unbelievably perverted, and so good. All she wanted now was his huge cock to fuck her, to cum in her. Every time he pushed into her, she pushed back at him.

Peter couldn't hold back any longer. He began ramming steadily into her tight hole, the heat surrounding his dick so intense, her hole squeezing him so tightly. He tried to hold off but it felt so fucking good, he just couldn't. Reaching underneath her again, he pulled her up, his hand resting on her hard clit. He felt it sliding on his hand, he felt her arsehole gripping his cock, and he could hold back no longer. He felt his balls tighten and a stream of thick, white cum poured deep into Alison's hole. Screaming in delight, he pumped in and out, filling her arse with his cum. 

Alison screamed too, the feel of his cock cumming in her arse was just too intense. They both collapsed on to the floor, his cum pouring out of her ravaged hole while his cock softened quickly and slipped out. She didn't know it but tonight was just the first of many. Peter had lots of fantasies and he intended to fulfil every one and she was going to be the one who let him do it. She just had one more for this evening.

Climbing off her, he crawled round to her face and told her to clean his cock. She raised her head a little, looking round for some sort of cloth, before she suddenly realised what he meant.

"No, Peter. Please. Not that."

"Do I really have to spell it out to you, you stupid cunt? You never say no to me again. Now open your mouth."

With tears streaming down her cheeks, Alison took his soiled, dirty, soft cock into her mouth and began to lick it clean. It was more foul tasting than she could ever have imagined and she closed her eyes, too afraid that she might see just how dirty his cock was as she thought of where it had just been. It was her own body she was tasting but that was no comfort as it was not a part of her body that had ever given her any pleasure before tonight. . 

Peter simply laughed at her, his plan complete, for tonight at least.

"Don't act like you're not loving every moment of this, you arse whore. You're getting off on being so depraved, aren't you?"

And she was. Alison was so humiliated that she had taken so much pleasure from everything he had forced her to do but he was even more shamed by the fact that he knew how much pleasure he had given me. It was the lowest she had ever been and the lowest she could ever be. Little did she know.

Once again, Peter saw no need to prolong her humiliation at that point and pulled his still soft but now clean cock from her slutty mouth.

"Get up whore. You've got five minutes to rejoin me in the party. There's a small bathroom in the corner you can use to wash your face and sort your make up. Five minutes and no more. If you're late, I'll come straight back in here and drag you out, no matter what state you are in. One more thing; I want you to stay for the rest of the evening and act as if nothing has happened."

With that he simply got dressed again, unlocked the door and returned to his guests.

Alison was in a panic as she scrambled round trying to find her underwear. Her thong was nowhere to be seen and, as she was running out of time, she decided she would have to return without it. Little did she know that Peter now carried it in his pocket, certain that it would make a memorable trophy to add to his collection.

Alison barely had time to clean all his cum off her face and reapply a small amount of make-up before her five minutes was up. She longed to take a long soak in a hot bath but she didn't even have time to bathe her ravaged pussy or arse. She rushed out of the door and ran along the corridor to rejoin the party. Wendy and some of the other wives gathered round her, wondering what had taken so long and why she looked so upset. She explained that she had had an argument with John on the phone in Peter's office and that she had been crying.

Wendy hugged her friend in support but a strange smell assaulted her nose. She stepped back from Alison, her face questioning, but Alison could only hang her head in shame at the realisation that Wendy had caught a whiff of the aroma of sex that she knew still covered her body. Her shame seemed to have a strange effect on her body, however, because it was just at that moment that Peter's cum began to leak from her pussy and arse. Without even her tiny thong to catch it, she could feel it trickling down her naked thighs and she knew her stocking tops were going to be stained with her husband's rival's spunk.

Would her humiliation never end?



The Politician's Wife



The gravel crunches under my high heels and the sound of girls' laughter drifts down from the bedroom window as I walk up the drive. At least someone had fun tonight, I think. The night is hot and airless and I can feel the sweat beginning to bead on the small of my back under my ballgown. Surely the storm must break soon. I raise one gloved hand to mop my brow, flicking a stray lock of my long auburn hair out of my eyes and brushing a bead of sweat out of my neatly plucked eyebrows.

My head feels woozy with the champagne. I'm not meant to drink much of the stuff, just raise a toast for the photographers then discretely dispose of it but there are only so many of these charity dinners I can take. I care about their causes but I grew up dreaming I'd be manning the barricades, not listening patiently to blue-rinse old dears who want Ray ask the Prime Minister about funding their local donkey sanctuary.

It's not so bad when Ray's there with me, I think as I near the house, I've a co-conspirator then: I know he finds it as ridiculous as me, subtly raising one eyebrow whenever some local busybody's wheeled on to announce how many stray dogs they've rounded up or tons of newspaper they've recycled in Sutton or Esher or Surbiton this quarter. That's Ray though; the consummate politician; smiling politely, pressing the flesh, looking concerned when concern is required; indulging the pet concerns of the hoi polloi without ever betraying his disinterest. 

That's how our lives are now: squeaky clean in public, keeping all the excitement behind closed doors. And when those doors are closed, we have plenty of fun. I feel sorry for some of the party wives, painting on their smiles for the press and then taking solace in plastic toys while their husbands are working late with the young intern again.

Mind you, without being catty, I can see why some of Ray's colleagues take their kicks away from home: their wives, mousy little broodmares selected to sire their offspring, run the office and stay out of trouble. Not me and Ray though: Jessica Rabbit, my friends call me for my big breasts, voluptuous bum and long auburn hair. 

The party top brass tried to warn him off me: my bohemian background, my unexplained years abroad and the curvy 5'11" body that the tabloids never fail to mention whenever we're snapped out together. I've always been very discreet though and they've never been able to pin anything from my wild past on me. If only they knew what Ray and I get up to!

I sigh as I realise it will a week before I can feel his hands on me again. The summer recess is normally a good time for us but Ray was invited to join a select committee working in Brussels: great for his career, less so for our sex lives. Phone sex doesn't really do it for me and I know Ray's paranoid about phone tapping. I imagine his cock inside me and I'm shocked to realise my hand's between my legs and I'm rubbing myself through the ballgown, moisture and sweat starting to soak through onto the white gloves. 

My god, how much champagne did I drink? I raise my fingers clad in the white silk of the gloves to my nose. The smell of my juices turns me on even more and I find I'm licking and sucking on my fingers. What's come over me? I know it's been a few days but I haven't felt this horny since I was a teenager. It must be the heat, that and the champagne. 

I have to be more careful: there are a lot of bitter, sexually frustrated little men in Fleet Street and in Westminster just waiting for a chance to nail me if I slip up and let my guard down. I sigh and resign myself to another night with the dildo, biting my finger so I won't risk crying out and letting my daughter's friends know what I'm up to.

Walking past the grand entrance, round to the side door of the house, I fumble in my handbag for the keys. Shit, not there. I'm just about to call out to Emma to throw the spare keys down to me when I hear the back door open. 

"Sweetie, it's just me; forgot my keys, just another boring charity do...my god, they do go on..." I'm silenced mid-sentence as I round the back of the house: it's not Emma, my daughter but another girl I don't recognise: petite, can't be more than 5'6", blonde hair cut into jagged bangs framing an almost elfin face, light tan which could be fake but is more likely the result of a gap year spent partying somewhere exotic. She flicks one of the bangs out of her face then runs her hand down her cut off Ramones T-shirt to her little denim hot pants and looks at me with these piercing blue eyes. 

"Oh...oh...hello...I'm Jessica...Emma's mother..." I'm babbling, "you mustn't listen to me, I'm only joking when I say it was boring...it's a little joke Emma and I have...I'm really into my charity work". The girl's startled expression turns into a smile and then a giggle.

"Belle. I'm Belle, Emma's friend...I've heard about you...you're not like I expected you to be!" She has the disarming candour of youth and I feel completely dumbstruck, sure my face must be bright red. It's only then that I see the joint in her other hand. What must I look like? Babbling excuses like a naughty girl caught by the headmistress when I should be scolding her for smoking pot in my garden.

I've always enjoyed the power I've had over my daughter's friends: I'm fun and sexy, so they want to be my friend but I always play slightly aloof so that they never forget I'm the glamorous politician's wife: the one their boyfriends secretly lust over, call a MILF, pretending to their friends that they could ever handle a woman like me. 

I know the girls notice my body too and I must confess, when I'm bored and Emma's not looking, I play with them a bit, using my height and build to my advantage, leaning my cleavage a bit too close to their blushing faces, placing a hand on a buttock or hip just a fraction of a second too long; fuelling the feelings they probably don't even realise they have for me.

Well, tonight the tables are turned: I'm standing here, tongue-tied and blushing like I'm trying to get in with the cool girl at school. I'm sure she can see I'm drunk and I really need to pee. My mouth is dry and my head pounds in the sticky heat. I want to run away to my room where I can comfort myself with my dildo, away from this girl and her unnerving, penetrating stare.

"Listen" says Belle "I'm going to smoke this. You wanna come?" I feel like all my powers are draining away. Did this teenage girl just invite me to smoke pot with her in my own garden? "You don't have to smoke if you don't want...we can just chat...I want to talk to you." My head throbs in the heat at her gauche mix of nerve and naiveté. Was I like this when I was her age? Am I turning into one of those sad old women who corner me at parties to complain about Young Girls Today?

I try to recover some of my poise, pulling myself up to my full height, considerable in my heels and speaking in my best modern but concerned mum voice with just a hint of sexy dorm mistress. 

"Belle..." I say but she cuts me off. 

"Come on, I know you're bored: you said so...I don't blame you..." and there's just a hint of menace in her voice as though to say that if I don't do as she pleases, others may know that behind my squeaky clean public façade, I am less than perfect. "Your secret's safe with me!" she says in an exaggerated comedy whisper then turns and walks away from me, across the lawn, her pert little bum wiggling at me as she places one grey suede ankle boot in front of another.

Dumbly, meekly, I find myself following her. What am I going to do? Snatch her joint out of her hand and throw it on the ground? Threaten to tell her parents? I'm not even sure who her parents are. Try my dom routine again? I don't think it's going to work on this girl. 

I'm rushing slightly to catch Belle now, the sweat soaking through the ballgown under my breasts and in the small of my back and I realise how ridiculous I must look: a busty woman in an evening dress tottering after a sylph of a girl, my high heels sinking into the lawn.

Belle reaches the wall halfway down our garden where the lawn steps up a level. She stops and perches herself on top, her slender legs dangling her suede boots as she pulls out an expensive looking lighter and lights her joint, the end glowing bright orange as she takes a pull. Whatever she's smoking smells strong and I'm glad she doesn't offer me any. 

"So, Belle, tell me; do you have a boyfriend?" It's meant to break the ice but it sounds just like the sort of thing starchy mums say to be down with their daughters' friends. Belle shakes her head in reply and takes another pull on the joint. 

Just to break the awkward silence, I find myself talking about me and Ray; meeting as young activists at university, how his drive and ambition turned me on, how passionate we were about our politics when we were young, how hard I found it when Ray was elected as an MP and I was expected to play the good wife: charity work, charity balls, charity case!

I'm more frustrated than I realised and Ray's absence has brought it all to a head: I don't mind keeping up appearances in public if there's regular fucking in private. A summer of charity functions and vibrators wasn't what I had in mind. I realise I'm giving away far more than I meant to, opening up to Belle who's sitting with her legs up on the wall, a faint smile playing across her face as she listens politely.

"Sounds like you need to relax!" she says and passes me the joint. I freeze, my heart thumping in my chest: what do I do? I need to tell this girl No, that she must be out of her mind if she thinks I'm smoking her weed and that if I ever catch her again I'll be telling her parents. 

I'm already in this too deep to play the authority figure though. Belle is smart enough to realise she could cause more trouble for me than I could for her. She smiles at me and offers the joint ever closer. I figure the best thing is to try and at least look like I'm in control -- maybe I can take a few tokes and just not inhale. Belle will probably tell a few friends, but they probably won't believe her: 

just another schoolyard rumour doing the rounds for a couple of weeks till people get bored and something else comes along to replace it.

Gingerly, I take the joint. I was never a big fan of this stuff back in the day: I liked dancing and screwing -- still do -- and I used to get bored and fall asleep when the guys sat around smoking their joints and listening to their Sonic Youth albums. 

That was before I met Ray, of course...I start thinking about the wild nights we spent together in those early days, the feel of his cock inside me, me on top, fingering myself. I realise that at the thought of it I'm getting wet again.

I take a pull on the joint, a disaster: straight away I'm spluttering, coughing out the smoke. Now I look utterly ridiculous. Belle stifles a giggle, putting her slender fingers across her pert little lips. I hate her; cocksure, cleverdick little kid, trying to make a fool of me for her own amusement. I want to lunge at her, knocking her off the wall, roll her over on the grass, wipe mud across her pretty pixie little face and spank her little bum until it's all pink and sore but I'm still coughing up lungsful of the smoke, red-faced and gasping for breath.

"Here", Belle says, once the coughing subsides. She slides closer to me so that one of her legs is across my lap, the other round the small of my back, trapping me, I note, in a pincer movement. She leans in, takes back the joint and takes a drag. Then she leans very close, her free hand behind my head now, turning me towards her, she puts her mouth over mine and slowly, steadily exhales the smoke into my mouth. 

My heart is racing now, the feel of her hot little lips on my mouth as her firm little body presses close to mine. The weed gives me a headrush and my mind floats like a balloon borne aloft in hot, warm fog. The heat of the smoke, the heat of the coming storm and the heat of Belle's face on mine as she breathes into me all blurs into one.

I don't know how long we've had our lips locked together but when I come to, I realise, Belle's tongue is in my mouth and I'm sucking on it as she caresses one of my breasts through the ballgown. I pull away with what feels like half her lip-gloss on my face, shocked, pushing her hand away and I clumsily heave myself off the wall and make for the house. 

In my awkwardness around Belle, I've forgotten how much I needed to pee and now it's worse than ever. In my hurry, somehow I misstep and my ankle twists under me, snapping the heal of my shoe, I fall clumsily, crying out in pain and Belle collapses into a fit of giggles. The pain of my twisted ankle and the shock and embarrassment of my fall are too much and I feel the warm, wet pee soaking my knickers and running over my thighs, soaking through the ballgown into the lawn below. My cheeks are blazing with embarrassment. I try to struggle to my feet but the pain is sickening, a dull, warm ache and I'm scared I'm going to throw up.

"Please" I say through the tears of embarrassment "Please Belle, would you help me to the house". Belle manages to suppress her fit of giggles for long enough to walk over and heave me to my feet, somewhat awkwardly as I'm bigger than her and right now I'm not much help. Slowly and painfully, Belle's arm around my waist and leaning on my one good foot, I hobble to the house, pee sticking my ballgown to my legs.

If I thought I looked ridiculous before, this takes the biscuit: elfin little girl in her cut-offs and pixie boots helping a hobbling woman in a pee-soaked ballgown. This thought makes me laugh somehow, despite my pain and humiliation. My laughter sets Belle off and by the time we reach the house we've both collapsed into a fit of the giggles. 

"Ssh!" Belle places her finger on my lips: you'll wake the others. In my confusion, I'd forgotten about Emma and her other friends: My god, what if they'd heard or seen us. How long have we been in the garden and what would Emma think if she saw me now: drunk, stoned, covered in pee and being held up by one of her friends?

"Belle", I say, suddenly scared "you have to get me to my room without waking them up." Belle nods and another of her impish little smiles plays across her face but I'm too tired and uncomfortable to pay it much notice.

"Kick off your shoes" she whispers and I realise that in my haste to get inside, I'm still wearing the high heels, one broken. I kick them off and Belle opens the back door, practically heaving me across with the other arm, I think I'm going to fall onto the kitchen floor but somehow she keeps me upright, balancing on my one good leg while she shuts the door.

"It's the second door on..." I say but she heaves my arm across her shoulder and moves towards the stairs as though she knows where to go. I lean on her again and she helps me up the stairs to the bedroom, moving very slowly so as not to make a noise.

She's surprisingly strong for someone so small and slight and I wonder absent-mindedly whether she's on Emma's hockey team, an image of Belle drifts into my mind; knee length socks, little hockey skirt flapping about her trim, toned thighs, riding up showing her gym knickers, pert little breasts bouncing up and down, little elfin face flushed, sweaty, shouting commands to her team-mates... 

With a start I realise I'm getting wet again, my juices mixing with the pee on my knickers but before I have a chance to think about this, we're at the door of the bedroom and Belle helps me over the threshold and into the ensuite bathroom.

I expect her to leave, but as I take my hand off her shoulder, she stands watching, wryly amused as I struggle with the now sticky ballgown. Lurching onto my twisted ankle, I wince; scared I'm going to throw up with the pain.

"Would you help me just another moment?" I ask Belle, "I have to undress". I expect her to support me while I undress myself, but instead she walks round behind me and unfastens the ballgown, letting it fall to the floor and before I can stop her, unhooks my bra, letting my big breasts fall out, bouncing slightly as they fall out of the bra.

"Thank you, Belle" I say quietly, my humiliation now complete, "I can handle it from here" but as I try to step away to the shower, one arm groping for some sort of handhold while I try to cover my breasts with the other, I trip and fall onto the shower floor.

"Here, hold on", Belle steps forward, helps me to my feet, my breasts laying against her arm as she reaches around me to lift. With both hands holding myself up on the shower rail, I stand taking the weight off my twisted ankle wondering how I'm going to get myself clean and to bed. Belle turns the shower on and the warm water washes over me, re-starting the headrush from the weed but thankfully, at last washing away the sweat from the gathering storm and some of the pee from my humiliating accident.

Before I quite realise what's happening, Belle is undressing: her Ramones T-shirt coming up over her head, her pert little breasts held up by a lacy, black bra, a neat little tattoo of a rose above her left breast. She unfastens her shorts, revealing a matching black thong and kicks her boots off, stepping into the shower. At least she kept her underwear on, I'm thinking.

She's very gentle, her slender little hands lathering the soap all over my body. Under different circumstances it might feel quite glamorous, having a young girl tend to me like an empress in my bathroom but as it is, hobbled and humiliated, I feel quite helpless. 

Belle lathers the suds across my shoulders before reaching around to clean my front: she's pressed against me now and I can feel her pert breasts, through the bra, squashed up against my back and her little hips pressed against my buttocks. She washes my breasts, taking a long time, running her soapy fingers across my nipples which stand to attention at her tender caress. She lathers my stomach before reaching down and pulling my knickers from my curvy hips, letting them drop on the shower floor. With more lather she washes the inside of my thighs and my pussy, I gasp as she slips a finger inside me. 

"Belle!" I say, shocked but I don't tell her to stop. Belle runs one soapy hand the length of my pussy, over my clitoris, over my labial lips and back through my legs and between my buttocks, just barely touching my asshole. By now I'm weak at the knees, I can feel my pussy aching and I wish she'd stop toying with me and go so I can get into bed and dildo myself.

Like she'd read my mind, Belle turns off the shower and taking my weight on her shoulders again, she leads me to bed, sitting me down on the edge of the mattress. But instead of leaving, she leans into me, catching me unawares, pushing me down onto the bed while slipping her little tongue into my mouth. I want to tell her no, that this is wrong, that she's too young, that she can't take advantage this way but instead when I push her away and open my mouth, all that comes out is 'Are you sure you want to do this?' Belle nods, looking strangely shy for once and I fall back onto the bed, surrendering to her.

Belle leans back in, kissing me deeply, biting my plump, red lips. My face is blazing again, but not with embarrassment this time. I kiss her back, smearing my lipstick and her lip-gloss across both our faces, sucking on her hot, wet little tongue, pulling her slim, toned little body on top of me. With trembling fingers, I unfasten her bra, revealing her pert little breasts which come to delightful points at her pink nipples. 

Taking one of my breasts in her hands, Belle sucks and licks my nipple to erection. All I can think now is how much I want her to slip her finger inside me again, but instead, she slowly works my breasts, swapping her hot, wet little mouth from one nipple to the other, gently tugging on them with those delicate little fingers. I'm desperate to start fingering myself but I'm also enjoying the tease so I raise my hands above my head, grabbing the bars of the bedframe.




The Politician's Wife



Belle seems to take this as a cue and, pulling the cord from my robe hanging near the bed, she binds both my hands to the bed. I realise that I'm still wearing the silk gloves which are now starting to dry from the shower. Just how kinky is this girl? I should be worried I'm at her mercy but I'm surprised how much it turns me on to be her helpless prisoner.

Walking over to the dresser, Belle starts rifling through the draws, pulling out a two pairs of my best stockings. I think she's going to tie my legs to the bed but she takes the first pair and rolls them over my feet and up my legs: she's dressing me up, like a doll! I've always been dominant in the bedroom, especially with other women but here I am, the helpless plaything of a girl young enough to be my daughter.

Belle uses the second pair of stockings to bind my legs to the bed posts, I could kick her away and probably struggle free but I'm too turned on. I'm completely helpless, my arms tied above my head and my legs spread-eagled on the bed.

Standing over me admiring her handy work, Belle leans into me, teasing my face with her pert teenage breasts, pulling away as I crane my neck, trying to get her pink teats in my mouth, allowing me just a moment's contact with my outstretched tongue. After what seems like an age, she begins running a finger up and down my inner thigh, skirting over my pussy. 

"Oh, please..." I find myself saying as she brushes her fingertip teasingly across my clit. Belle giggles that impish giggle of hers, she's moved down to my breasts again, teasing my nipples with the tip of her tongue, giving them the occasional playful bite.

I'm soaking wet, I can feel my juices slathered on my thighs and Belle effortlessly slides first one and then two of her slender fingers inside me. She massages my G-spot with her fingertips while gently rubbing my clit with her thumb. I hear myself moaning as if from far away. Belle slides another and another finger inside me: she's got her whole hand in now! I've never been fisted before and my moans are high and urgent, mixing with the squelching noises as Belle pushes and pulls her hand in and out of my soaking wet pussy. 

My pussy aches, stretched out around her hand but it's so wet it doesn't hurt. I can feel my climax starting to build: my hands and feet are numb, tingling as the blood rushes to my head and my pussy. My nipples stand upright and if my hands weren't firmly bound above my head, I'd be pulling on them. 

"Oh God, Oh god..." my voice sounds rough and husky as if I'm about to cry. My sinews stiffen, my muscles tensed and tight, my pussy starting to clench around Belle's slender, little wrist. She can feel it too and starts gently fingering my clit with the index finger of her free hand. I think I'm going to black out, pressing my buttocks together, trying to thrust my pussy forward onto Belle's hand. Then suddenly, just as I'm about to come, she pulls her hand out and stands up, away from me.

At first I can't even form words, just high-pitched moaning noises of frustration. "Please...please..." is all I can manage when my voice first comes to me. Belle is standing over me in her little black thong, hands on her hips, looking very pleased with herself. "Please let me come!" I beg, tears of frustration beginning to well up in my eyes. 

"I don't know if I will" says Belle. Maybe I'll just leave you tied up and play with you all night long!" 

"Please" I say "I'll do anything! Just let me come". Belle steps over to the head of the bed and slips one of her fingers in my mouth. I suck on it hungrily, tasting the sweet musk of my own juices. She forces another and another finger into my mouth until she has her entire hand in there. 

"Suck it clean!" she whispers and I obey, not that I could do much else. 

Belle straddles me, on all fours, facing away from my head. I try to lift my pussy up to her face and she slaps it down, just hard enough to make me gasp with shock. "Uh-uh" she says. She slides her little black thong down to her knees, letting it fall across my face. 

The sight and smell of her tight, neatly trimmed little pussy drives me mad and I strain my neck trying to bury my face in it but Belle keeps just a couple of inches out of reach, making me watch as she fingers herself. I can smell her juices, they're lighter and more delicate than mine and I can feel myself getting wet as I strain my neck to reach Belle's pussy. She quickly brings herself to a small climax, juices running down her pussy onto her delicate fingers. Belle sinks back on her haunches so her neat, wet little pussy sits right on top of my mouth. 

"If you want to come, you have to make me come first" she says. She starts rubbing her pussy over my face, her juices smearing what's left of my lipstick all over my face. Her pussy is firm and felty, I open my mouth and begin sucking on her labia and clit then driving my tongue right up inside her tight little pussy. She's very wet and the juices drip down into my mouth, my face completely soaked now. Her clit is engorged with blood and I suck on it, I can hear her moaning now, pulling on her cute pink nipples. 

Just as Belle's moans build to a peak, she sits up and starts fingering herself. Her bum is over my mouth now, one cheek resting on each cheek. I'm left sucking on her puckered little asshole but I don't care. I'm driving my tongue up into it as she fingers herself to orgasm. It's bigger and more sustained this time; her tight little asshole spasms around my tongue. I can hear her gasping as she almost bounces up and down on my face until she comes, her moisture leaking out onto my face and neck.

Belle recovers her breath, lifts herself off my face. 

"You did very well, Jessica!" she says and I feel strangely proud. She's glowing with sweat all over and her blonde bangs are plastered to her face. "Now it's your turn. But first, I think we need to shave you!" 

She walks into the bathroom and returns with my razor and Ray's shaving soap. She's also put her suede ankle boots back on, the little minx! The shaving soap feels cool against my hot, throbbing pussy and I lie helplessly as she shaves off all my pubic hair: Helpless, hogtied, shaven: who'd have thought I'd end up the plaything of this kinky little girl.

I'll just have to tell Ray that I shaved my pussy as a treat for him. I don't think he's into that but it'll turn him on to think that I did it for him. I wonder what he'd think if he could see me now. He'd be furious that I'm cheating on him but he'd probably be pretty turned on by the thought of me with another woman. I start wondering if I can get Belle to come back for a threesome but I don't have long to think about it.

I realise that Belle has finished and looking up I see her rifling through my dresser. For a moment, I think she's robbing me, adding injury to insult. I see her face light up when she finds a small key which she tries in the cupboard above the wardrobe. How did she know that would work, has she been watching me, I wonder.

Belle opens the cupboard and, with some difficulty as she's only small, lifts down a plain, brown cardboard box. She produces a black plastic belt to which she attaches a large, black plastic dildo. She's going to fuck me with my own strap-on! I'm shocked when I realise that the humiliation is turning me on, making my pussy even wetter.

She forces the dildo into my mouth, lubing it up with my saliva though my pussy's so wet, it hardly needs it. I suck on it hungrily, my submissive moans turning guttural as she pushes it to the back of my throat. She lies on top and slides it into me, smiling and looking me right in the eyes as she's fucking me.

Belle starts off gently at first, sliding the dildo back and forth, sometimes pulling right out, making slopping noises as my wet pussy slips off. I'm aching to come and I long to start fingering myself, I even try thrusting up onto Belle a couple of times but every time I do she pulls out and starts again very slowly. 

"You'll come when I let you come!" Belle tells me and I realise there's nothing I can do except submit and let her take me.

Belle's fucking me harder now, thrusting her little hips up against mine. Once again, I can feel my pussy tighten around the dildo. She senses this and starts lightly fingering my clit. I can't even speak, my head thrust back, my mouth writhing with silent moans. Then, just as I'm about to come, Belle pulls away again. I look up to beg her to finish me off, but I've lost my voice completely.

"Get on your knees" she orders, untying the stockings from around my ankles. Awkwardly, since my hands are still tied and the cord from the robe twists around them, I obey. I feel Belle's delicate little hands on my hips as she enters me from behind. She's quicker this time and soon she's rapidly thrusting into me as I'm bucking back onto the dildo, moaning with pleasure. I can feel my pussy throbbing and as Belle reaches between my legs to finger me once more, I'm rising to a peak.

Just as I'm about to come, I hear a buzzing noise as Belle starts up the vibrator she must have taken from the box. I think she's going to use it on my clit and I'm shocked when she starts to slide it into my ass. She's lubed it up and it slides in easily.

I want to protest; I've never been into anal and this is a humiliation too far, being fucked in the ass with my own vibrator but it's too late, I'm already starting to come and as I involuntarily buck my hips back onto the dildo in my pussy, Belle takes advantage of my spreading buttocks to push the vibrator in further, sliding it in and out of my ass. 

I'm whimpering now, high, urgent moaning sounds as Belle works my clit with one hand, the vibrator in my ass with the other and fucking me as hard as she can with the dildo, slamming her little hips into my bum. The vibrations through my ass excite me, despite the humiliation of having the vibrator stuck right up there and I must come about a dozen times, calling Belle's name over and over, squirting my juices all over the dildo and all over her pink little pussy underneath. Finally, I collapse, aching, trembling and spent on the bed. I barely notice Belle untying me.

Belle lies down beside me and we wrap our arms around each other. She kisses me deeply and we lock lips together, calmer and warmer this time, slowly slipping our tongues in and out of each other's mouths. Without speaking, we find ourselves reaching for each other's pussies. Fingering each other now is soft and gentle, there's no hurry and I slide two fingers into Belle's pussy, wet with her juices and some of mine. Belle tickles my clit with the lightest of touches and as my own climax builds, I can feel her pussy clenching around my fingers, marvelling at how tight and wet it is.

We come together this time, deep and slow and warm. I can't believe that the same girl who just ass-fucked me to a humiliating climax is now treating me so tenderly. We lie together for a long time afterwards, feeling each other's breathing until Belle loosens herself from my arms.

"I have to go now" she says as she gathers her clothes and tiptoes from the room.

When I wake the next day, late, well into the mid-morning, I can hear the girls chatting over breakfast downstairs. I stumble to my feet and my twisted ankle throbs with pain, looking down, I can see I've given myself a lovely swollen bruise. 

I need to shower, I'm sticky with sweat, my juices, Belle's juices: all over my thighs, my pussy, my chest, my hands, my face. The bed sheets will have to go in the wash and my ballgown is fit for the bin: I can't risk taking it to the cleaners in the state I've got it. First though, I have to see Belle again. I can't believe what I've done, what I've allowed a girl barely out of college to do to me: I feel frightened but excited too and I want to see her again.

I dress hurriedly and make my way downstairs, grimacing as I can't let Emma and her friends see me limping on my swollen ankle.

Emma is sat at the kitchen table, chatting with her friends, Sally and Michaela but I don't see any sign of Belle. Then it occurs to me, are they going to wonder where Belle disappeared to for half the night.

"Did you have a good night, love?" I ask Emma.

"Yes thanks, mum" and we start into small talk, it seems interminable, meandering chit chat about the romcom they watched and the boring speeches I sat through but I daren't ask about Belle apropos of nothing. Eventually, Sally says she has to go, she has an essay to do, I offer to drive her but she brought her own car. Then, casually, I can drop in.

"Your friend Belle -- did she have to leave earlier?"

Emma shoots me a weird look.

"Belle?" she says and she seems to shiver at her name "Belle wasn't here. I don't really hang around with her since..." Emma starts blushing "...since we sort of fell out." I feel myself blushing too and suddenly Emma can't look me in the eye.