7 comments/ 51719 views/ 11 favorites If Only... By: johnlen365 I was lying on the couch playing on my iPad when my aunt came from work. She works in a 7-Star Hotel in our city. I came to visit my aunt before I headed off to college. She and her husband lived alone in a very stunning apartment. My Uncle was often away on trips abroad. Basically, she stayed alone most of the time. So, my mother suggested that I stay with her until I start college. My aunt brought takeout and told me to go freshen up and come to eat. Now let me tell you about my aunt. She is 5 ft 9 inch tall and has short curly hair. Her skin color is dark and was in very good shape as she exercised a lot. Her tits were 42 DD's (I checked her bra) and they are phenomenal. And she has a very big, firm and tight ass that makes you want to smack it as soon as you see it. Now about me. I'm 6 ft 4 inch tall and I have short straight hair. I'm fair skinned and not in a bad shape. Now, I'm not embarrassed to say that I have a short dick of 5 inches. I freshened up and came down to eat. We had lasagna that night. She asked me about college and I asked her about her work and talked about stuff through the dinner. We decided to watch a movie after dinner as tomorrow was a holiday and my aunt didn't have to work. She was wearing a baggy t-shirt and loose trousers. And I was wearing a loose t-shirt and shorts. She sat close to me all cuddled up and I played the movie. Halfway through I noticed that she was falling asleep. I didn't want to disturb her so I just let her rest her head on my shoulders while her hands hugged me. As the movie went on to the last minutes, suddenly mu aunt moved and dropped onto my lap. I didn't know what to do. Her mouth was literally on my dick! I thought about the situation for a while. I checked if she was really sleeping. She seemed like she was really out. So, I decided to take advantage. I slowly lifted her head and stood up from the couch and took a look at my aunt. She was hot! I dimmed the lights just a little bit and started to "investigate". I took my shirt off and tossed it to the adjacent chair. She was lying on her side so I gently ran my hands down her legs and let my hand slip in between her legs. It was so warm. I constantly checked whether she was still asleep. I slowly moved my hand up to her firm ass and ran it along her ass crack. I felt that she was wearing underwear. I slowly started to pull down her trousers. She was wearing bright red underwear. I pulled down her pants until her ankles. I took my phone and started taking pictures. I smiled as I noticed that she didn't have any pubic hair. I took a handful of her huge ass in my hands and took a picture as I was doing so. I decided to move up to her magnificent tits. I slowly squeezed her right boob. I could barely cover it with my hand. I was in heaven. I slowly lifted her shirt until it revealed her magical tits. It was so big and firm. Just the way I like it. The confidence in me kept growing. I decided to remove her shirt. I checked one last time if she was sleeping. I gently lifted her head and removed her shirt. Now she was only in her underwear. I took a step back and took multiple photos. I kept my phone away and caressed her body. Squeezing every inch of it. I wanted more. I slowly turned her onto her back. Her beautiful tits were now staring right at me. Begging to be sucked on. I didn't wait for a second. I started sucking on one boob at a time. I heard my aunt give out a low moan. She wasn't awake. Although she was certainly feeling what I was doing to her. As I sucked on her titties, I slowly moved my hand down in between her legs and started teasing her. Then I heard something that I thought I would never hear. Although she was still sleeping, she started calling my name under her moans! This made my confidence to skyrocket. I took my shorts off and climbed up on her chest and laid down my dick in between the two great wonders that are her tits. I took each boob in one hand and started to give myself a tit job. Her moans became louder and kept on stroking faster. I felt that I was about to climax so I stopped and climbed down. I went back down to her legs and slowly took off her panties. The smell of her pussy was intoxicating. I started sucking on it and she started to come. I knew that she was going to wake up any minute. But I decided to take the risk and see what happens. She let out loud moan and started coming! She woke up and looked at me puzzled and at the same time her eyes were filled with lust. I decided to take a shot. I stood up and she glanced at my already hard cock. I leaned in and kissed her on the lips giving her a taste of her own juices. She hesitated for a second and gave in. she reached out her hand took a hold of my cock and whispered, "Want me to taste you?" I couldn't even speak. I simply nodded. She sat me down at the edge of the couch and she sat on the floor and started sucking my cock. I could barely handle it. It was so amazing. I've had blow jobs before but none were like this one. She sucked me for a while and stood up and kissed me. I decided to take charge. I took her hand laid her down on the couch. She spread her legs apart and I knew what I had to do. I took my hard cock and teased her beautiful pussy. Then slowly, I started pushing in. she started moaning and with every thrust her moans got louder. I knew that I was gonna climax soon but I wanted to cum on her tits. I pulled out just as I was about to come. She got the idea and put my dick in between her tits and titty fucked me until I came on her luscious tits. She took my dick in her mouth again and cleaned me out. She gave me a wicked smile and held my cock in my hands and said "ever tried anal?" I was lost for words. She started stroking me and made me hard again in no time. She took a Vaseline bottle out of the dresser and applied as a lubricant. I slowly pushed my dick inside. It was so fucking tight!! I was on top of the world. She was screaming at that moment. Not in pain. But with lust. I slowly started thrusting in and out and me and her came at the same time. I removed my cock from her tight ass, slapped it real hard. She took my cock and led me to the bathroom and we took a long shower together, which eventually ended up in bathroom sex. If Only The chapters unfold in a sequence of true events from 1966-2005. (Chapter 9) "If Only" (circa-1973-1975) The forty-five minute drive to the seaside village of Newton-by-the-Sea council offices each day wasn't something he looked forward to, but the increase in salary and the positive signs for promotion far outweighed the negatives, so the decision to accept the job was an easy one to make. At his interview he said that the position offered him a challenge and an opportunity to gain new skills in a multi-disciplinary department, but in reality, it was all about the money. He wasn't sure if it was just the nervous tension of starting a new job or the broken thermostat blowing cold air inside the car that made him feel uncomfortable, but the cigarette certainly helped. Making a mental note to find a garage in the village and get the thermostat replaced, he pulled the car into the car-park opposite the council office building. A cursory glance in the rear view mirror before making a quick adjustment to his red silk tie and removing his neatly folded Pierre Cardin suit jacket from the back seat of the car, the cheerful voice of a DJ announcing a new Christmas song by Slade, the gravelly voice of Noddy Holder shouting from the car radio 'Merry Xmas Everybody.' Tapping his fingers across the steering wheel, singing along with the band, 'So here it is merry Christmas,' stepping from the car and crossing the road, finishing the chorus line, 'Everybody's having fun,' wondering if the song would ever become a Christmas classic. Newton-by-the-Sea Planning, Building Control and Engineering, the neon-sign above the door informed him, the modern statement out of character with the architecture of the double-fronted three-story Victorian terraced house. A tall pine tree draped in decorative baubles and flashing coloured lights, streamers draped across ceilings and walls and glossy images of Santa Clause and Rudolph pinned to office doors greeted him inside the entrance foyer. A bubbly eighteen year old girl with short blonde hair and innocent blue eyes welcomed him with a smile at reception. Like most teenagers confronted with formal introductions she avoided the customary hand shake. "My names Claire Simpson," she offered, another simile showing perfect white teeth, a pink t-shirt moulded to apple sized breasts and a shapely bottom poured into tight denim jeans. "If you follow me, Mr Brand, I'll take you upstairs to see Mr. Thomas," she volunteered, a slight lisp in her voice adding to her innocence and charm. Hugh Thomas had the look and attitude of a man who was desperately counting the days to early retirement. A large fat man in his mid-fifties with heavy lidded eyes and huge bushy eye-brows, wearing a suit that looked as if it was made for someone else, his trousers straining at the waist to hold a huge stomach, his entire body reeking of cigarette smoke and the smell of alcohol on his breath betraying his weakness for whiskey. His deputy, Richard Lee was a much younger man in his mid-thirties. With jet-black hair and a chin stained with a permanent five-o'clock shadow, his body language spoke of a person impatiently waiting, eager to encourage the older man to take early retirement and allow him to take over the ship. "Welcome to the team, Mark," Hugh declared, offering a friendly hand and pulling on a cigarette, holding his chest and wheezing in gasps, knowing he should quit smoking and loose a few pounds, his lecherous eyes crawling shamelessly over the young girls breasts. "Claire will show you around and introduce you to the staff," he added, stubbing his cigarette into an overflowing ashtray. Following quickly on her heels along a labyrinth of narrow corridors, slipping in and out of offices, meeting and greeting members of staff on all three floors, too many handshakes, too many forced smiles and too many names to remember. It was a welcoming relief when she said the protocols were almost over and there was only one more room on the ground-floor to show him. Hidden behind the beacon of festivity in a recess below the main stairs a hand painted door was just visible through a forest of pine needles and coloured baubles. "Do you like our Christmas tree?" she smiled, proudly, squeezing her small hand inside the pocket of her tight denim jeans, searching for a key. "Very impress," he offered, unconvincingly as the heavy door creaked open on rusty hinges, a blanket of darkness greeting them. "This is the File Store. Watch your step," Claire said cautiously, flicking a switch next to the door, brushing away feathery cobwebs above her head, fluorescent lamps pinging and buzzing in unison before flooding the room with light. Row after row of metal frames containing storage files covered the entire building footprint. "This room holds every council application on Planning, Building Control and Engineering," Claire innocently confirmed. "There are only two keys for quality and security reasons," she added. "One is held with the Chief Administration Officer and the other by Mr Thomas's personal assistant, Emma Charlton. Files need to be signed in and out, so you must see Emma if you want to take a file from the store." The cup of coffee had barely touched his lips when he caught sight of an attractive young woman approaching his desk. "Hello," she whispered, offering her hand. "I'm Emma Charlton." The unexpected confrontation almost made him spill his drink as he lifted from his chair, a smile forming on his lips, his eyes taking a shameless detour over her shapely breasts. "Hello," he repeated, stealing another glance at her firm tits, hoping she was going to offer him a blow-job and a quick fuck over the desk, checking his silk tie for coffee stains, forcing a smile and taking her outstretched hand. Emma Charlton wasn't what you would call drop-dead gorgeous. She was a little plump around her thighs and bottom and it was evident from her body language that she was self-conscious about her bum being a little on the big side. But after closer inspection he realised that her increased weight was due to the inevitable changes her body was making during the early stages of pregnancy. Sitting comfortably in a chair with her hand playing carelessly with a silver chain around her neck, Emma confirmed some of the bureaucratic and regulatory protocols of the council, generally concerning conditions of employment, welfare etc. He stared into her sleepy eyes, listening to her soft comforting voice and the enchanting capture of nylon as she shifted her weight in the chair and crossed her legs, watching her lips cradling a pen in the corner of her mouth, watching her tongue flirting suggestively with the phallic end, nodding and smiling at some of the questions, his answers accompanied with a little light-hearted humour and playful innuendo, her calm and professional demeanour occasionally broken by an uncomfortable shuffle on the chair. A mind running wild with torment, a familiar stirring inside his pants, discreetly lowering his hand beneath the desk and making an adjustment, erotic thoughts flashing inside his head, capturing images of her unabashed nakedness, wondering what kind of underwear she might be wearing, was she shaved or neatly trimmed, what she might look like bent over his desk completely naked, her plump arse perched submissively in the air, her body open and his cock buried balls deep inside her burning entrance, her voice begging him to fuck her like a dog in the street. "This is a typical building file," she confirmed, handing him a file, the authority in her voice interrupting his erotic reverie, shuffling her chair across the floor and moving closer, the intoxicating smell of perfume and the warmth of her breath blowing in soft whispers against the side of his face teasing his senses, the closeness stimulating arousal, heart beats racing and breathing increasing, flirtatious eyes and suggestive smiles making passes, two people exchanging chemistry, two bodies overheating with the promise of expectation. The chair scrapped across the vinyl floor as she lifted to her feet, a smile forming on her lips, a parting whisper of thanks accompanied by an outstretched hand. "That was painless," he said, taking her hand and holding it just a moment longer than she would have expected, her face flushing slightly and a hint of optimism in her smile. The festive season always brought out the best in everyone. Most people laughed and smiled a little more than they had done over the entire year. Everybody was in a better mood and pretended to be people they weren't. It was a time for the giving and receiving of gifts. It was also a time for social gatherings. Too much alcohol and too much flirting during the office party often left a regrettable stigma the following day, especially amongst those who lived a little too dangerously. After a couple of hours in the local Fisherman's Arms, everyone filtered back to the office. Hugh Thomas was aware that social events can often lead to alcohol induced staff getting a little bit out of control. He also had a fondness for bottom pinching. So after some subtle words of encouragement from Richard Lee, Hugh made himself scarce for the day. The third-floor room was buzzing with people, the music pumping out from speakers, Wizard singing. 'I Wish it Could Be Christmas Everyday,' a few bodies wriggling on the dance floor, others mingling, some just drinking and talking. The announcement that the buffet was open seemed to attract the attention of most people. Richard Lee's secretary had once again performed miracles considering her meagre budget. A queue quickly formed at a long table, a feeding frenzy of impatient people pushing and shoving, juggling with paper plates overflowing with food, gathering in circles or sitting on chairs, some needing to shed a few pounds, others who didn't care, all devouring their food like starving people. He found a quiet niche in a corner of the room, lit a cigarette and sipped his drink, brushing away a loose thread from his grey mohair suit, mindful of his night with Kath Evans when he was caught in the rain and the painful reminder of the bus journey with his hands and face covered in blood, grateful to his local dry cleaners for bringing his suit back to life. Claire Simpson skipped around the dance floor like an angel, swaying her hips and wriggling her cute little bottom with flirtatious suggestion, a young engineer with no natural rhythm trying to follow her moves, trying his best to charm his way into her pants. Emma Charlton and an attractive girl and an older woman in her late-forties, stood at the opposite end of the room sipping wine and nibbling food from the buffet table, laughing and giggling and flirting with everyone in the room. He was curious. He didn't need an invitation. He picked up his drink and weaved his way across the dance floor, a friendly smile and a questioning eye looking for introductions. Jane Anderson had striking blue eyes, shapely tits, a curvy figure and a fantastic arse. With a proud smile she told him that she had been delivering the post to the council offices for the last ten years. For a woman approaching fifty, Jane Anderson was hot, fit and sexy. A soft hand accompanied by a whispered greeting informed him that the attractive girl was Emma Charlton's younger sister. With an olive complexion complimenting long raven hair and dark mysterious eyes, mouth-watering tits and curves in all the right places, Debbie Chambers looked absolutely stunning. "I don't remember seeing you in the pub, Debbie?" he enquired, the unexpected question interrupting a song playing inside her head. "No," she smiled, showing stunning white teeth. "I don't have a lot of free time from work," she added, brushing a whisper of hair from her face. "I'm on my lunch break," she confirmed, sipping her drink and nibbling a sandwich. "My sister.....Emma, invited me to the office party," she said, discreetly lowering her hand, cursing to herself for pointing a finger at her sister. "Unfortunately, I can only stay for an hour," she offered, hiding her embarrassment behind a smile. During the conversation he discovered that Emma Charlton was in her early twenties and had been married for just over a year. Debbie was nineteen, single and worked in a chemist shop in the town centre. She lived with her mother in a flat above an auto-repair garage that her mother owned. Their father was tragically killed in a car accident when Debbie and Emma were both in their early teens. Jane Anderson said she was happily married, but her eyes told a different story. The alcohol softened the mood, smiles and laughter growing in confidence, comments laden with flirtatious and risky innuendo, filling their heads with intelligent conversation and some light trivia, gaining their affection and occasionally making them laugh, watching their body language and searching their eyes, charming them with endless compliments and well-rehearsed words of endearment, opportunity chasing hope and expectation, stealing their hearts, trying his best to get into their pants. The hug was warm and sincere but her dark eyes and soft voice betrayed a hint of sadness. "I have to get back to work," Debbie announced. "I've enjoyed the party. I must remember to take a day's holiday, next year," she said, searching inside a bag. "My mother's business card," she offered, flashing her eyes. He looked vague. "You said your car needs a new thermostat," she prompted, pointing a finger at the name on the card. "My mother.... June Chambers.... She owns a garage in the village." With a wave of her hand, Debbie was gone. Tucking the business card safely inside his jacket pocket and taking Emma's empty glass from her hand, a confident smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "Let's have another drink." A blanket of darkness shrouded the windows as the afternoon slipped into early evening, a quick glance at his watch informing him it was just after six o'clock. Those with inescapable parental commitments and those suffering from the humiliation of romantic rejection had already left the party. Others were still drinking or scavenging at the left-over lifeless crumbs of what used to be the buffet. Some people had fallen asleep and others had simply passed out in convenient chairs. A girl in her late teens with the birth of a hickey blossoming on her neck straddled a young man on stool, the cheeks of her bottom creeping precariously above the waist of her pants. A couple on the dance floor tightly pressed together made no attempt to follow the rhythm of the music. Someone had pinned a photocopied image of a naked bottom on the stationery cupboard door, no doubt a subject for discussion in the New Year. The door to Richard Lee's office had been locked from the inside and his secretary hadn't been seen for almost two hours, although the unmistakable sound of two people groaning out their pleasure in a union of give and take was a clear sign that the deputy would be adding another trophy to his collection. Emma Charlton narrowed her eyes, twisted her face and held her breath, willing the cellar door not to make a noise before sliding the key into the lock, cursing under her breath when the heavy door creaked on its hinges, slipping into the eerie darkness and closing the door behind them, breathing a deep sigh of relief, knowing that the dead-lock would ensure they wouldn't be disturbed. The stairs creaked in quiet protest as they slowly descended into the dark abyss of the cellar, the ensuing silence thick with expectation of what was to come. They both knew they were there to make the most of a fleeting moment of reckless intimacy. There would be no time for romance. No ceremony. No foreplay. The haunting sound of the old heating system hissing and blowing and the pulsing beat of music filtering through the floor above momentarily broke the silence. A moment of surreptitious hesitation, inhibitions fading, urgency brushing away caution, heart beats racing and pulses throbbing, hormonal chaos fuelling adrenaline, blood surging through veins at the speed of sound, flooding vital organs and stimulating genitalia, faces colliding and lips crashing together, promise and expectation heightening arousal, gestures following impossible urges, impatient hands searching in the darkness, touching and feeling, groping and fondling, probing and scratching, two people overcome in the heat of passion, two bodies giving into submission, two lovers embarking on a journey of human sexual response, a compelling pursuit of betrayal and infidelity. A well-practiced hand sweeping over familiar curves, impatient fingers fumbling in the darkness and unclipping her bra, two milky white breasts tumbling out into his cool hands, feeling the warmth and the weight filling his hands, feeling her nipples growing to a lengthy firmness, pressing like studs against the palms of his hands, kneading the soft flesh between his fingers and thumbs, squeezing one and sucking the other, biting, nipping and pulling, torturing her senses in a seductive rhythm of pleasure. A vulva burning with desire, the onset of dampness manifesting inside her knickers and wetting her thighs, closeness inviting intimacy, sensation flirting with curiosity, a shuffle, a movement of engagement, feeling the threatening limb pushing against her body, moving her hand in a downward path, sliding her fingers over his leather belt, searching and probing, squeezing the throbbing flesh inside his pants. The warmth, the searing heat of passion, the intimacy of two bodies pushing together, driven by impulsive urges, hormones exploding and heartbeats gathering speed, a visceral surge of adrenaline flowing through a body charged with sexual energy, a heart fluttering with promise and expectation, primal response flirting with curiosity, fumbling impatiently with his belt buckle and zip, pulling his pants over his thighs and down his legs before gathering at his feet on the cold concrete floor. A startled gasp and a hesitant pause, the acquaintance of nine-and-a-half-inches filling her hand momentarily interrupting her lustful enquiry, a familiar wetness pooling between her legs bringing her back to reality, arousal flirting with curiosity, expectation inviting capture, bodies moving to the persuasion of touch, gripping the swollen muscle firmly in her hand, working him hard and working him fast, tugging and pulling, up and down, back and forth, gripping the length and squeezing the girth, rejoicing in the pulse between her fingers. Hips moving and buttocks flexing, two people lost in the heat of passion, responding to impulsive urges, choking gasps joining grunts and groans, compliments and gestures of encouragement echoing in the darkness, sliding his hand between the fleshy textures of her inner thighs, feeling the discharge of arousal flooding her knickers, slipping a finger inside the fabric, searching through the thick bush of pubic hair, feeling the warmth of her burning vulva, parting the moist lips and separating the slippery folds of flesh, exploring her innermost secrets, working his fingers in lazy circles, stimulating the clitoris and teasing the urethra, suggestion chasing hope and expectation, two lovers drowning in a sea of hormonal chaos, two people searching for one thing. The movement impulsive, the action swift and without compromise, modesty melting away in the heat of passion, turning quickly on her heels, shuffling and wiggling her hips, sliding her knickers down her legs and letting them drop to the floor, casually stepping over the flimsy piece of fabric, pulling her skirt up to her waist, leaning forward and gripping the metal frames with both hands, brushing away cobwebs between her fingers and opening her legs, her white smooth bottom perched invitingly in the air, the treacherous object bouncing and swaying against the soft cheeks of her bottom, a vulva desperate for penetration, a voice demanding action, her words laden with uncompromising determination. If Only "Put it in," she said, turning her head and looking back over her shoulder, reaching back with her hand and guiding him in. The entry was brutal, the physical assault unforgiving and delivered without mercy, nine-and-a-half-inches of swollen flesh pushing inside her burning heat, probing and penetrating, stretching the boundaries, filling her body with a force she'd never felt before. "FUCK....YES....Oh Fucking YES....Oh Fuck," she screamed, breathing in urgent gasps of air, wriggling her hips and shuffling her feet, adjusting her body to the painful invasion. FUCK ME. YES!!....YES!!!" she demanded, a repertoire of filthy curses echoing in the darkness, climbing to heights she never thought possible, pushing back against the brutal force, urging him on in pleading cries, in and out, back and forth, hard and fast, entering and retreating, slamming hard, thrusting and grinding, pushing in and pulling out, a leg-shaking, knee-trembling fuck, a tireless demonstration of give and take. A submissive sigh, a vulva burning with desire, a body bruised and tortured, calming words stammered from a defeated mouth. "You're too big" she uttered. "You're hurting me," she begged. "Slow down," she pleaded, reaching back with a calming hand, her cries for compassion meeting grunts of disapproval. Ignoring her pleas for calm, gripping her waist with both hands and quickening the pace, thrusting hard and pushing deep, joining and separating, the suggestion of persuasion increasing expectation, compelling urges stimulating the flow of desire, a body consenting to surrender, pushing back to meet the force, hard thighs battering against soft buttocks, skin smacking against skin, balls swinging recklessly, the unforgiving length and formidable girth plundering her inner depths, breaching and violating, using and abusing, battering and bruising her body, an uncompromising exhibition of coital interaction, a familiar display of two people fucking like a couple of dogs in the street. Sensation followed sensation, bodies overflowing with a feverish passion, strained voices of contentment lost in the darkness, painful cries and panting gasps, moans and groans smothered under a fanfare of squeaking metal frames and files dropping to the concrete floor, screams turning into a chorus of obscenities, an endless fucking machine buried balls deep inside the vaginal vault, banging her portal of femininity, the growing urgency, the unrefined copulation of two people groaning out their pleasure in a commentary of filthy curses, pledges and promises bouncing in fading echoes off the walls, choking gasps for air spilling from a breathless mouth, a body shaking and shuddering, thrashing and trembling, her legs almost buckling, whispered moans and urgent groans growing into a crescendo of blissful emotion, a violent explosion sweeping through her body, an overwhelming release flooding her vulva and thighs, a turbulent orgasm consuming her body. A pregnant pause and an awkward shuffle, vaginal fluids spilling in rivers down her thighs, reaching back with her hand and pulling him free from her hot interior, turning around and dropping on both knees, clutching the meaty column in both hands, feeling the weighty flesh pulsing between her fingers, working the length with vigorous determination, up and down, pulling and tugging, stretching the loose foreskin over the bulbous head, sweeping her tongue in playful circles around the ridge of the helmet, feasting on the sticky substance oozing from the small eye, easing him in between stretched lips, easing him out, sucking and blowing and swallowing deep, choking and gagging when she felt the straining flesh probing the back of her throat. An uncomfortable shuffle on the floor, her knees protesting against the cold concrete surface, her eyes watering in a stifled gag, lifting her hand and brushing away a smearing of saliva from her chin, the brief distraction interrupted by his euphoric announcement and a generous amount of his sticky load spilling with careless disregard inside her mouth. A pause and a gagging gasp, the quantity of emotional fluid splashing against the back of her throat threatening to stop her breathing, pulling the swollen limb from her mouth, each contraction only adding to the unforgiving mess smearing her face and hair. A shameless smile looked up from the floor, an eager tongue embarking on an inquisitive trail around the sticky head, sweeping over the sensitive membrane, probing inside the small eye, a hungry mouth feasting on the precious nectar as if it was a lifesaving antidote. After a quick re-arrangement of clothes and some creative repairs to her hair and lipstick they left the dark abyss of the cellar and went back to the office party. Claire Simpson viewed the world through smiling eyes. Like most eighteen year old teenagers her values in life depended on only four things. Shopping. Clubbing. Music and Boys. Nothing else mattered. So when she accepted his invitation to dinner at the Italian restaurant in the town centre he was a little surprised when she consented with a few conditions. "My parents have gone to Edinburgh for a few days to visit my grandmother, so before I do anything, I must go home to feed my dog," she declared, rather matter-of-fact, tilting her head to one side, pursing her bottom lip and mimicking puppy-dog-eyes. "After I've showered and changed we can have a quick game of pool at the local leisure centre." she said, an innocent smile showing perfect white teeth. "Can you play pool, Mark?" she asked, hiding the presumptuous request behind a smile. Mindful that she had just told him that her parents had gone to Edinburgh for a few days prompted a cautious and compromising response. "Can I play pool?" he answered, forcing a laugh. "It's only my favourite game," he lied. The long panting tongue and a large wet nose of an excited golden Labrador greeted them both at the front door of Claire's house. "His names Roxy," she volunteered. "He's our blind dog," she said, pulling his ears, kissing his head and smiling lovingly into his dark brown eyes. After making a fuss over Roxy, he asked the obvious question. "Is it your mother or your father who is blind?" She rolled her eyes and tightened her lips trying not to let the hysterical giggles escape. "No," she smiled, innocently. "Roxy can't see.... Roxy is blind." "You shower and get changed," he offered, frowning at his stupidity and feigning a smile. "While you're doing that, I'll feed Roxy and then we can go." An imposing glazed atrium at the rear of the leisure centre boasted a selection of six snooker tables and four pool tables and apart from a couple of spotty faced teenagers wearing t-shirts that looked like they hadn't seen a hot iron for quite some time, the place was quiet. He carried their drinks from the bar, making sure he selected a table at a safe distance from the wrinkled t-shirts. Taking two pool cues from the rack, leaning over the table and gathering the balls, her tighter-than-tight blue denim jeans hugging every teenage curve and leaving nothing to the imagination, a skilful hand splitting the balls into the triangle like a seasoned professional, beaming a heart-stopping smile across the table before handing him one of the cues. "Ladies first," she announced, in a girlish giggle, placing the white ball on its spot, scanning the table, shuffling her feet and shifting her weight, bending over the table, his eyes gazing appreciatively at her shapely bottom and the unmistakable panty line blossoming beneath the tight fabric, her choice in underwear keeping his interest for a while. Were they White...? Were they Red...? Or were they Black...? As the game gathered speed he purposely looked away each time she bent over the table, trying to close the images of her figure hugging curves from his mind, trying to avoid an embarrassing tent inside his trousers. "You win," he declared, forcing a smile and glancing at his watch, waiting for the right moment before lowering his hand beneath the table and tucking the offending object into a less obtrusive position. "Let's go and get something to eat." "Ok," she smiled triumphantly, returning the pool cues to the rack, unashamedly pulling a wedgie from her bottom. There was a biting chill in the air and the car was cold, but thanks to June Chambers, the new thermostat would soon be warming the interior. Ignoring the double yellow lines at the side of the road, pulling to a halt outside the Italian restaurant, stepping out of the car and taking her hand, the apprehension in her eyes and her demeanour confirming she was a little nervous about her first time in a restaurant. A smartly dressed waiter with dyed black hair, a courteous smile and a spurious Italian accent brought the wine list and menu to the table. "I've never been in a restaurant before," Claire whispered across the table, looking at a menu that she didn't understand. After a brief consultation to find out her preference in wine, he helped her with the usual protocols, his attention to deal with trivial issues of etiquette fuelling her youthful confidence. As the evening gathered speed and the wine and music softened the mood, they talked and smiled, flirted and laughed while he stole fleeting glances at her innocence and beauty. "I can't remember a time when I've had so much fun and laughed as much," she said, lifting her glass in the air in a gesture of salute, her radiant smile lighting up the room. Under the melodic chimes of clinking glasses, he told her that she was a beautiful young woman. It was one of the many complements he had given her during the course of the evening and although he knew she was flattered, she brushed them away modestly. Claire Simpson was too innocent, too vulnerable and too naive. She was considerate caring and emotional, the kind of person that would always give generously to homeless people, the type that required a large box of paper tissues whenever she watched 'It's a Wonderful Life,' at Christmas. A young girl full of emotions, a young woman surrendering to the romantic atmosphere of the restaurant, too much alcohol fuelling a surge of Dutch courage, shifting uncomfortably in the chair and glancing nervously around the room, leaning over the table and pursing her lips, an innocent smile mingling with adolescent pride, conspiratorial whispers confessing her innocence. She told him she was a virgin. She told him something he already knew. They left the restaurant and headed for the car, the warm and friendly atmosphere of the restaurant suddenly replaced by a bitterly cold wind and a gaggle of foul mouthed teenagers kicking a metal can across the road. Putting his warm jacket over her shoulders and discreetly removing a parking ticket from the car windscreen he pulled away from the restaurant leaving the can-kicking teenagers in a cloud of exhaust. The long wet tongue and wagging tail of an excited Labrador, greeted them at the front door. Bending on one knee he welcomed Roxy with a friendly hand and comforting words that made her smile, the cunning preamble an essential pretence to gain precious brownie points. Claire opened the lid of the record player and carefully placed a selection of black vinyl discs on the chrome support, the static and crackle giving way to the soothing voice of Art Garfunkel singing 'Bridge Over Troubled Water.' They stood in front of the coal fire, waiting for their bodies to warm, humming along to the music and making small talk, a blanket of hormonal chaos hanging over them, the closeness fuelling adrenaline and heightening expectation, heart beats racing and eyes flirting, both a little apprehensive, both wondering how the night would unfold. The embrace spontaneous, the passion responsive, gentle and meaningful, her body warm and soft against his, the fragrance of perfume and the aroma of youth teasing his nostrils, peppering her neck with soft welcoming kisses of light affection, lips meeting in a heart melting kiss, tongues flirting in a gesture of romantic unity, probing and sweeping over teeth, twisting and twirling in a sensual ballet of flirtatious acquaintance, stealing her breath, stealing her heart, stealing his way into her pants. A hesitant shuffle, a wash of confusion and uncertainty flooding her eyes, a frustrated sigh and a determined 'No' whispered between tight lips, an innocent smile betraying her inexperience, a guarded gesture carefully moving his hand from her breast. In his pursuit for human sexual response experience had told him that 'No' can actually mean, NO! Definitely not, and don't try that again. But he was also aware that 'No' can sometimes mean 'No,' but give me a little more time because I'm thinking about it. Nevertheless he knew that if he wanted to get to the main course he would have to be extremely patient. The coal fire crackled in the grate, the mood a little apprehensive, the sound of Simon and Garfunkel easing the tension and awkwardness, the brief interlude of caution evaporating in the burning embers, his reassuring and sympathetic voice making her feel special. The kiss soft gentle and passionate, his warm lips embarking on a sensuous trail over her face, nose and forehead, gliding his tongue over her neck, infusing kisses and teasing her senses, a young woman shuddering and trembling, a virtuous face flushing with uncertainty, innocent eyes vague and confused, her breathing ragged and unsteady, the intimacy of touch, the arousal of flirtatious interaction, the acquaintance of experienced hands sweeping over shapely curves, caressing and probing, exploring undiscovered parts of her nimble body. A teenager flooding in a sea of hormonal chaos, a purged mind swimming in an ocean of mixed emotions, indecision and uncertainty flirting with curiosity and excitement, innocence responding to impulsive urges, awakening with renewed enthusiasm, a searing heat spreading from her groin up to her breasts, neck and face, the static of arousal dancing between her legs, viscous fluids of passion building in her panties, a beating heart welcoming the intimacy, something inside begging for more, a submissive whisper of approval, tensing her body, responding to the closeness, moving her hips and opening her legs, an unspoken invitation of mutual expectation, a young virgin giving in to temptation. A nervous shuffle on the sofa, a young woman alive with arousal and nervous anticipation, chemicals charging hormones, pulses racing and heart beats gathering speed, a thousand butterflies of pure uncertainty fluttering around inside her stomach, his nimble fingers working with a well-practiced skill, opening the buttons on her blouse and unclipping her bra, a hesitant hand reaching out but quickly retracted, inhibitions cast aside, caution swept away in a heartbeat, adolescence surrendering to the compelling forces of nature. He smiled at her innocence, trying to gain her trust and lift her confidence, his reassuring smile and feather-light fingertips embarking on a mysterious journey, weaving a warm path over her smooth skin, cupping her small breasts, squeezing them gently in his hands, teasing the rosebud nipples in his mouth, nipping them gently between his teeth, impulsive gestures responding to the intimacy of touch, resignation making way for optimism, shifting her weight on the sofa, biting her bottom lip and closing her eyes, a tingling sensation exploding inside the pit of her stomach, arousal inflaming the flow of desire, the place between her legs getting hotter and hotter, her modesty starting to melt. The springs squeaked under their weight as they slid off the leather sofa, joining Roxy on the floor, the sudden movement and unfamiliar noise making him stir, pricking his ears in a guarded growl, her sympathetic voice and comforting hand easing him back to sleep. Two mouths meeting in a crushing kiss, tongues invading mouths, stealing each other's breath, two people driven by prolonged arousal, impulsive urges increasing stimulus, heart beats gathering speed, pulses racing and senses buzzing, impatient hands touching and feeling, fondling and groping, sweeping over curves, whispered moans chasing gasps, breathless pants joining in a muted chorus of vocal persuasion, two bodies swimming in a sea of hormonal chaos, two lovers riding the waves of emotions, lost in the heat of passion. A shuffle, a movement, a reassuring closeness, a gesture of mutual intimacy, a courtship of touch and feel, softness pushing against hardness, primal urges flirting with expectation, opportunity responding to suggestion, moisture wetting her knickers and teasing her thighs, an aching vulva screaming for attention, a stomach fluttering with nervous anticipation, frustrated sighs guiding impulse, lifting her bottom from the floor, arching her back and opening her legs, offering her body in submissive capture, proclaiming her enthusiasm and her willingness to obey and surrender to his advances, a potent combination of intimacy and trust, the natural response of a young woman giving in to need. The haunting sound of the zip coming apart and an eager hand reaching inside the waist of her jeans and pulling them down her legs to her feet, slipping his fingers inside her little red panties, watching them melt over her milky white thighs and smooth legs, divesting her of her final modesty, removing any indecision that she might have had. The captivating vision of porcelain beauty silhouetted in the glow of the fire stealing the breath from his lungs, his eyes transfixed, staring in admiration at her unabashed nakedness, following a hypnotic trail, descending south over her youthful body, her sparkling blue eyes and innocent face, her small white breasts and nipples blossoming from dark areolas, the smooth hills and forbidden valleys, her toned stomach and cute little belly button, the neat butterfly folds peeking out through a whisper of silky pubic hair. A throbbing muscle straining uncomfortably inside his pants, the warmth of his mouth dancing across sensitive skin, his talented tongue joining in the playful pursuit, sweeping over her stomach, bathing her naval and teasing her senses, a young body vibrant and alive, involuntary thrusts responding to the soul warming sexual union, moving her hips in a simulation of coital foreplay, a hand pulling recklessly at his hair, breathless whispers of approval spilling between tight lips, a young woman longing for physical acquaintance, a body responding to impulsive urges, a natural phenomenon beyond her control, a gesture of movement, an unspoken invitation, pulling his head down to her most precious place, the forbidden place of intimacy. A jubilant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, rejoicing in the power of surrender, victorious in the thrill of sexual conquest, basking in her beauty and innocence, breathing in the delicious aroma of sex, the odours of virtue, the refreshing sweet scents of floral perfumes and the essence of youth oozing from a vibrant body. A skilled hand sweeping over undiscovered curves, caressing precious yielding textures, touching forbidden virgin flesh, feather light fingers barely touching the skin, dancing in melodic pulses over her soft inner thighs, parting the delicate lips, revealing the shy flaps and folds of unchartered sex. Peeking out between virtuous thighs, the pubic swelling resembling the delicate wings of a butterfly, a swollen clitoris emerging from the sanctuary of the hood, sweeping his tongue in a sensuous trail over her stomach, dancing and swirling between her inner thighs, edging closer and closer to her sexual arena, pressing his chin against the pubic bone, feeling the silky smooth hairs slipping between his lips, blowing a whisper of warm air over virgin folds, teasing her virtue, bathing her clitoris in a wash of oral fluids, her sacred love petals opening like a flower in bloom, her warm oasis of pleasure welcoming his finger inside, probing and exploring her tight opening, reaching places she had never been touched before. If Only A hesitant pause an awkward shuffle and a moment of caution, the intimacy unexpectedly broken, the acquaintance of an unfamiliar obstacle greeting his finger, the barrier of virtue forcing him into a quick retreat. Hormonal chaos running wild inside a young inexperienced body, a heart beating frantically inside her chest, a choking lump inside her throat threatening to stop her breathing, the reality of knowing it was about to happen flooding her head with a mixture of caution, uncertainty and excitement, any thoughts of ending the initiation evaporating in the fire. He stood up and casually removed his pants. "Oh," she gasped, as the monstrous piece of flesh sprang free from its cotton prison, swaying and bobbing in front of her face, blinking her eyes a couple of times to focus, staring in disbelief, the expression on her face a mixture of shock, surprise and curiosity. A tentative pause, a nervous shuffle, a frustrated sigh, a subtle suggestion of acquiescence, a reserved compliance of impending uncertainty, her innocent eyes tracing his with consenting apprehension, a bashful face watching and waiting, as if seeking his permission to respond to intimate foreplay. The fearsome limb filled her hand, her fingers struggling to accommodate the formidable girth, an insistent pulse between her fingers and a persistent throb between her legs, a body overcome with submissive expectation, seduced by an invitation of intimacy, a heart flirting with curiosity, frustration, caution, uncertainty and forbidden thoughts melting away in the heat of passion, gripping the gruesome flesh firmly in her hand, moving to the persuasion of touch, working the length in slow measured strokes, pulling and tugging, squeezing and releasing, feeling the web of veins and bulges pulsing beneath her fingers, exploring and touching, stoking and learning, an untried body responding to the inevitable forces of evolution, a body embracing the phenomenon of human sexual response. A vulva burning, wet and aching with desire, a searing heat pulsing between her legs, a frustrated young woman yearning for penetration, reality sweeping away morality, fading principles and virtue cast aside, no words were necessary, a welcoming smile and a nod of her head was all that was needed to let him know that she wanted him inside. Climbing between her legs and parting her thighs with his knee, gripping the throbbing muscle firmly in his hand, pushing the swollen head against her tight entrance, the silky flaps and velvet folds giving way to the force, the thick shaft stretching the inner walls and opening her body, the treasured sanctuary between her legs welcoming him inside. A breathless sigh and a begging-him-to-be-gentle whisper hissed through tight lips and gritted teeth, the threatening limb coming in contact with the thin membrane momentarily interrupting their moment of pleasure. A hesitant pause, an anxious few seconds, eyes meeting in a tender moment of promising intimacy, a reflexive movement, a gentle push, the hymen yielding, surrendering to the unexpected acquaintance, the gates of paradise opening, her most sacred place capturing his flesh in submissive acceptance. The engagement of intimate connection held momentarily in captured silence and a subtle exchange of reassuring gestures, withdrawing slightly, waiting for her lost membrane to dissipate and letting her get used to the unfamiliar object breaching her body, the bleeding fluids spilling down his swollen cock betraying the evidence of her former purity. Calming gestures of endearment and a brief moment of virtuous silence broken by the next record dropping onto the turntable, the static and crackle of the needle finding the Queen song, Freddie Mercury's fingers dancing over black and white keys, melodious high octaves interrupting Roxy's sleep for the second time, raising his head in silent protest, the glow of the fire captured in his lifeless eyes. 'Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see....' The lubricating warmth of coital connection, an untried body welcoming the strange object into her tight entrance, the courtship of swollen genitalia overcoming pain, the influence of persuasion, the promise of expectation responding to the intimacy of union, easing in and easing out, a couple of inches at a time, breaking and entering, soft and slow, pulling back, prolonging the moment, rejoicing in the euphoric sensation, taking her to heights she could only have imagined before bringing her slowly back from the edge. Sent shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time.... A shift in posture, an uncomfortable shuffle, the thin carpet burning his knees, regaining his composure, lifting her legs and wrapping them around his back, flexing his buttocks and thrusting his hips, increasing the pace and gaining a momentum, a turbulence of give and take sweeping away calm, hot sweating flesh slapping against soft thighs, in and out, back and forth, deeper and deeper, all the way in and all the way out, banging and thrusting, penetrating deep, stretching and filling her body with hard flesh, the thick girth almost splitting her apart, a half-hearted whimpered protest and a painful cry escaping through tight lips, a tearful plea for tenderness lost in the echoes of Freddie's invitation. Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the fandango? Thunderbolts and lightening, very, very frightening.... An innocent face glowing in the heat of passion, a cocktail of emotions swimming inside a confused young body, a head screaming caution in a blend of dance and song, a heart fluttering in time with the melodic beat, her virtue lingering on the precipice of an exotic place somewhere in heaven, every nerve in her body alive with euphoric sensation, waves of abdominal contractions combusting in a burning heat of virtuous passion, a vulnerable body responding to rapturous convulsions, shaking and shuddering, wriggling and thrusting, genitalia colliding, embracing in an orchestration of mutual engagement, an impulsive urge, the persuasion of movement, arching her back and thrusting her hips, bucking and pushing, rolling with the rhythm, rocking with the momentum, capturing the meaty force inside. Easy come, easy go, will you let me go? Bismilla! No, we will not let you go.... A subtle key change from major to minor, the tempo gathering speed, a concerto of sweeping arpeggios, a rock aria of sharps and flats, an opera of perfect harmony, the melodious interaction adding unity to their intimacy, the seduction of vocal persuasion orchestrating the rhythm of copulation, a union of genitalia pushing together, hips moving in a mutual momentum of give and take, giving and taking, pushing and pulling, squeezing and tugging, his legs stiffening, his balls tightening inside the scrotum, a storm of blissful energy, a crescendo of euphoria, an explosion of liquid passion erupting like an active volcano, a warm sea of seminal solution spilling from the open eye, coating the mouth of the cervix, flooding the vaginal vault in a tidal wave of liquid passion. The engine still running, the reserves empty, the strings of passion inevitably subsiding, the chords fading, the opus easing into a calming coda, a compelling finale of seduction. 'Let him go.' Bishmillah! We will not let you go.... Never, never, never let me go. Ah.... No, no, no, no, no, no, no.... "Yes, yes, yes, yes.... Oh...Fuck. Oh...Ah...Fuck. Ahhh..." she screamed, her dignity lost in the heat of euphoric release. "Fucking hell, I'm coming," she cursed. "Ah...Oh...Ahhhh...." she hissed, twisting her face in a contorted mask of pleasure, meaningless words stumbling from an abandoned mouth, arching her back and tightening her legs, thrusting her hips and pushing back, responding to primal urges, rejoicing in the symphony of touch, the sonata of momentum, the crescendo of rhythmic pulses, wriggling and thrashing, embracing his deep penetration, her painful cries smothered in a chorus of harmonic melodies and a perpetual overture of resonating percussions. An unfamiliar composition of provocative movement, euphoric tremors erupting from her feet, shaking her legs and stinging her eyes, sweeping through her body in a crescendo of thunderbolts and lightening, igniting her vulva and tingling her breasts, exploding inside her head and torturing her senses, a mind numbing orgasm, a powerful release of emotional passion consuming her body, a pulsing engagement of mutual climax wetting her inner thighs, the momentous release eventually fading into intermittent flutters of euphoria, the delightful confusion of a young girl forsaking virtue, the euphoric elation of a young woman rejoicing in overwhelming fulfilment. 'Nothing really matters....' 'Any way the wind blows.' It felt more like a hanging than a disciplinary hearing, especially when he was told Councillor Martin Keane was a cold hearted individual who thought the term 'Going Clubbing' meant taking a boat out to the 'Farne Islands' and bashing grey seals over the head with a baseball bat. He thought it prudent to bring his CV up to date. Staring down onto the grey suburban street, watching the driving rain moving dirt from the Victorian window, smoking a cigarette and sipping coffee, catching a glimpse of a woman struggling to push a child in a buggy over wet cobbles, fighting with an umbrella against the wind, cursing to herself when one of the wheels on the buggy buckled and fell off. Under normal circumstances he would have gone to her rescue, but he had problems of his own today and he was in no mood for gallantry. The consequences of his sexual relationships over the last four-years and the most recent event when he was caught shagging June Chambers in the riverside show-house, which led to his disciplinary meeting with Councillor Martin Keane today, was enough to think about. Pacing the floor and looking at his watch for the millionth time, the crippling silence affording him the time to search inside the dark room of his subconscious, opening the memory files of deceit and infidelity, reflecting on faces and places over the years. The day of the Christmas party and the reckless night in the cellar with Emma Charlton, and how their relationship continued into the New Year, when they would meet in the file store and have hurried sex. And then in early February when he arranged to meet Debbie Chambers for a drink in the town centre and then drove to a secluded spot in the riverside park and fucked her in the back seat of his car. In the winter months their sexual relationship was always infrequent and rather casual, but when the warm summer nights arrived they became a little more daring. They fucked on the grass. They fucked over the bonnet of the car. They had screaming knee-trembling fucks up against a tree. And even when she told him she was getting engaged, their time together slowly diminished but never really ended. Claire Simpson continued her love for clubbing and shopping, but after losing her virginity she had now added sex and orgasms to her list of teenage interests. It might have been her first time but Claire was going to make sure it wasn't her last. He sighed into the black cooling liquid in his cup, mindful of the time when an attractive nineteen year old girl with big brown eyes and a shapely figure called Lucy Hamilton came to work in the office. In the final stages of a year-out and about to take a degree in Architecture and Town Planning at Newcastle University, out of friendship and loyalty to her father, Hugh Thomas offered her a job in the office for a period of six weeks. Lucy Hamilton looked too old to be a girl and too young to be a woman, but she had a fresh-faced cheeky innocence that he instantly found appealing. But after spending a couple of nights at his flat he quickly discovered that she was nothing more than a complicated and tormented nose-in-the-air individual with plenty of attitude. Nevertheless, when Lucy Hamilton started to fuck, it was almost impossible to get her to stop. And with a chain of metal braces filling her mouth the cock-sucking little vixen's ability to give fellatio was always a mind-blowing experience. Brushing his hand over the misty window, removing a layer of condensation, looking through a clear part in the glass, catching sight of Jane Anderson heading up the footpath, her Royal Mail uniform soaked through from the torrential rain, always managing a friendly wave and a smile, her gesture acknowledged with an unconvincing smile, their scheduled rendezvous for later that day inevitably broken by circumstances beyond his control. The consumption of coffee running dry, cigarette butts overflowing in the ashtray, pacing back and forth across the floor, sitting down and standing up, glancing at his watch, wishing the minutes and hours away, wishing he was somewhere else, furious with himself for not being more responsible. If only he hadn't taken his car to June Chambers auto-repair garage to get a new thermostat. If only she hadn't encouraged his advances. If only that chemistry thing hadn't sparked between them. If only he didn't have an attraction to older women, especially those who looked sexy in dirty overalls. If only he hadn't taken her to the show-house. It seemed a good idea at the time. It offered a combination of excitement, exhilaration and danger, and there was always that thrill of doing it in a semi-public place. In his remit as project manager he had a key for the new show-house on the riverside residential site, so what better opportunity would they have, locked inside the show-house, fucking on the living room floor like two dogs on heat. His memory files still held the furtive images of his untimely misgivings. How could he forget the startled and enraged expression on the councillor's face and the sniggers and titters from the delegation of local residents viewing the new show-house? If only.....if only, he sighed, helpless to the consequences of his actions. The meeting room was thick with silence and a claustrophobic fog of cigarette smoke, the apprehension eventually broken by the secretary pouring coffee into cups. He was offered a chair conveniently positioned between Hugh Thomas and Richard Lee. Three sour faced individuals sat facing him on the opposite side of the table. One of the sour faces was Councillor Martin Keane. A younger man sitting next to him was there to represent the trade union. The third person was an attractive woman in her late thirties from personnel. As soon as their eyes met her face flushed slightly and she nervously looked away. It was clear that Paula Harman was embarrassed to see him again. A brief moment of crippling silence hung in the air as bodies settled into chairs, files opening and coffee cups touching lips, Paula Harman shifting uncomfortably in the chair, her mouth-watering tits a work of art, rising and falling with each intake of breath, the supple white flesh of a mature woman almost spilling out of her blouse. Hugh Thomas and Richard Lee never missed an opportunity to grovel to council members, their forced smiles and shameless compliments lost in the twisted face of a man who looked like he was suffering from constipation, the brief pause giving him a moment to reflect on the night of the local council elections when he first met Paula Harman. The Polling Station was a temporary pre-fabricated building erected in the car park of the civic centre. Paula was in charge of the electoral voting procedures and the supervision a couple of council staff. Even before the ballet box had swallowed up the first vote he was flirting with chance, looking for any opportunity to get into her pants, his tireless efforts quickly halted when she raised her left hand, flaunting her wedding ring, as if to say, 'I'm a happily married woman so you can look but you can't touch,' although the evidence of her submissive body language seemed to say. 'Take me if you think you're man enough.' As the evening gathered speed they shared more intimate details about each other, forcing smiles and making passes at each other, flirting and laughing at any opportunity, charisma and seductive charm fuelling a courtship of mutual attraction, a warm and responsive exchange of compliments melting away the pretence of innocence, the conversation stimulating aspects of sexual innuendo, both becoming a little more adventurous. It was almost eleven o'clock when Paula allowed the staff to drift away. The mischief that followed inside the pre-fabricated building was a clear sign that Paula's sex life with her husband must have lacked something. He had intended to take the foreplay slow, a progressive courtship of seductive stimulation, a flirtatious engagement of pursuit, stealing her heart, heightening expectation and bringing her to a state of arousal before getting between her legs. But Paula had no intentions of going through the preliminaries of foreplay and there would be no time for pretence or refinement. Paula just wanted a good fucking. The key turned in the rusty lock, a quick flick of the light switch throwing the building into darkness, no words only gestures, grabbing his hand, her heels clicking across the vinyl floor as she led him into a small kitchen at the rear of the building. Lips met, mouths melted together in a smouldering kiss, an eager hand quickly finding the growing lump inside his pants, fumbling in the darkness with the belt buckle and zip before dropping his pants to the floor, a startled gasp of disbelief, a soft whisper of approval blown between tight lips, nine-and-a-half-inch of swollen flesh filling her hand. A familiar ache between her thighs, an urgent shuffle and a wiggle of her hips, her knickers gathering at her feet, stepping nonchalantly over the discarded fabric, pulling her skirt up to her waist, leaning over the kitchen sink and opening her legs, her hands trying to find purchase on the slippery worktop surface. Paula had a husband to go home to. Her invitation came with two conditions. She wanted fucked and it had to be quick. A carnal connection of engagement, a turbulence of urgent expectation gathering speed, a mutual commitment of give and take, thrusting and pushing, grinding and banging, hard merciless strokes pounding her body into submission, in and out, hard and fast, fucking like a well-oiled machine, a perpetual piston of endless endurance, entering and retreating without remorse, stretching her tight entrance, filling her body with hard flesh. A vocal exchange of curses and obscenities, a brief exchange of pledges and promises that would never be kept, breathless pants chasing choking gasps, moans accompanying groans, careless hands sweeping plates and cups across the worktop, her painful cries for mercy smothered under the haunting echoes of broken crockery crashing to the floor. A chaotic thrashing of hips and a violent shudder, a bruised and tortured body reaching climax, a euphoric release of liquid passion, an earth-shattering orgasm lasting long enough to capture a generous amount of his warm seminal cargo inside her boiling depths. The arrogance in Martin Kean's voice bringing the meeting to order interrupted his thoughts. He skipped the pleasantries. An unforgiving man with uncompromising values stared across the table, an outburst of verbal abuse dripping like acid off his lips, the carotid arteries and jugular veins pulsing in his neck betraying the seriousness of the situation. Martin Keane was at the Farne Islands. He had his baseball bat. He wasn't taking prisoners. The verbal condemnation quickly gathered speed, details unfolding about his visit to the new show-house on the riverside estate with a delegation of residents and the unexpected encounter of two people fucking like rabbits on the living-room floor.