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Parasite Ch. 01

By: MissLisaJones



Preamble

Ah, the Literotica categories, which to choose? Sci-Fi, it certainly could be and I'll admit that PC Andrews isn't a million miles from Torchwood's Gwen Cooper. And then there's Erotic Horror, again it would certainly fit. Our heroine is in for a rough ride.

But, at the end of the day, this is a lesbian love story and all the action is Lesbian Sex so that's where it goes, unless, of course, the Literotica admins decide otherwise.

Enjoy

*********

"Jane, Jane, wake up! Jane, hello, Jane, can you hear me?"

Slowly the insistent voice penetrated the fog surrounding my brain. I wished they would go away. I just wanted to roll over and go back to sleep but they wouldn't let me, it just went on and on. God, my head hurt. I forced open my eyes and there was a guy in one of those green uniforms ambulance medics wear. He was leaning over me, flashing a torch in my eyes.

"Can you tell me your name?"

"It's Jane. Jane Hughes." I looked around me. I was lying on the ground and the street seemed filled with flashing blue lights. 

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"I was... milk... corner shop...," I tried to remember but my brain felt full of thick pea soup. "I'm sorry, it's all a blur. My head... it really hurts."

"Given the bump you've taken I'm not surprised. Now, there doesn't seem to be any bones broken but we're going to take you into hospital for a proper check up. Is there anyone we should be getting in touch with?"

"My mother... no, better not, she'd have a fit and I'd never get a moment's peace. No there's no one."

"And you've no idea what happened?" A new, female, voice asked.

As the medic started messing around setting up the stretcher I rolled over to see a PC crouched down on the other side of me. Even in the state I was in the first thing that struck me was that she was female, quite young, maybe my age, and a bit of a looker. OK, so I've got a thing about uniforms but she wore hers well and, if I hadn't been feeling so lousy,.... God, talk about inappropriate. There I was, lying in the gutter, feeling like shit and the only thing I could think of was how sexy the PC looked.

"I'm sorry officer. All I can say is that I went out to the corner shop to get some milk and the next thing I know I'm lying in the street with a splitting headache."

"Is this your handbag?"

"That's right. Is anything...."

"We found it lying on the ground next to you. There's money in your purse and your mobile is still there so it doesn't look like you've been the victim of a mugging. What's more, there are no obvious signs of a road traffic accident. From the evidence that's at hand we're going to put this down as a purely medical emergency and the police will take no further interest in the case. However, if you do remember anything and want to talk to us, then you can always contact me at the station. Just ask for PC Andrews. Here's my card."

"PC Andrews," I repeated looking at the card. "If I remember anything then I'll get in touch."

"I think that's more than enough for now," the medic cut in. "Come along; let's get you into the ambulance. It's time we were off."

The stretcher, with me now on it, was lifted up into the back of the waiting ambulance and I was whisked away to Melchester General. Once we got there they prodded and poked, asked me a million questions and even kept me in overnight but nothing came up positive. In the morning they gave me another battery of tests but still they couldn't find any obvious signs of anything wrong and, eventually, I was discharged.

And, for a few days, that was it. Young woman has fainting fit in High Street. No great deal. The hospital, like the police, wrote it off as "one of those things" and, in the end so did I. The headache went away and the bruise faded and all returned to normal. Well, what appeared to be normal. It was a couple of weeks later when the cramps started. 

At first it put it down to that time of the month, except it was nowhere near that time of the month. What's more it was getting worse and worse, far worse than anything I had had before. I just about managed to hang on at work until, as soon as the flexi-time agreements allowed, I struggled home on the bus, nearly bent double with the pain.

I must have taken half a dozen ibuprofen, all washed down with plenty of paracetamol before I took myself off to bed and curled up under the covers. I'd never known such pain. It was getting more and more intense and I was wondering if, or rather when, I should call an ambulance.

And then, with a spear of agony that shot through my body, I went into a spasm. I'd have screamed the place down except my vocal chords seemed to be paralysed. Please, please, make it stop, make it stop, make it..., make it..., stop.

It was as if something in side me had snapped, the tension released, the pain was gone and, immediately, the relief was glorious. A warm glow came from deep within my belly and spread throughout the rest of my body. I lay back, panting with exhaustion, and relaxed, wallowing in the sense of release. 

But, as I recovered my breath, I had the strangest sensation. It was as if there was something inside me, something sending little tingling tendrils searching through my body. Strangest of all, was the feeling as if these tendrils were trying on my body for size, the way you might try on a new jacket in the shop. Trying one arm, and then another, stretching, bending, feeling the fit, getting used to it. It wasn't a bad feeling, far from, and when the tendrils reached the sensitive spots like my breasts or between my thighs it was anything but bad but, even so, it was more than worrying.

But, if the sensations throughout my body were strange, they were nothing compared to what seemed to be happening in my head. It was as if every memory, everything I knew, everything I had experienced, was a series of file cards and something was rifling through them, examining them, learning all about me. This wasn't good and I was starting to panic.

'Ah, a female,' as clear as day I sensed rather than heard the voice inside my head.

'Who's that? Who are you?' Now I was really scared.

'Calm down,' the voice said and, suddenly, that's exactly what I did. It was as if the panic had been turned off with a switch.

'Who are you and what did you just do to me?'

'I'm... I'm a visitor. I shall be staying here a while. I cannot afford to have you panic so I stopped it.'

'Stopped it? How did you stop it?'

'Just a simple chemical change to your body. Most of your emotions are simple chemical changes. For instance....'

A feeling of bliss suffused my body. 

'Stop that! Stop mucking around with me. I don't like it. Go away.'

'But I have only just arrived and I shall be staying for a while. Do not try to fight me, you will not win. The more you co-operate the better it will be for both of us. Now, let me have a look at you.'

'What do you mean?'

'Find a mirror. I want to examine you.'

'No way! I'm not taking orders from you.'

'Oh, I think you will. You'll do anything I say because, if you don't, I have a number of ways of making you. I could cause you pain,' an agonising stab ran through my stomach, 'or I could just take control.'

To my amazement my body began to move and, in a jerky, uncoordinated fashion, like a bizarre string puppet, I started to get up out of the bed. However, I only made a couple of steps before I crashed to the ground.

'Hmm... bipedal locomotion is a little more complex than I thought. It will come with practice but, in the meantime, I suggest that you obey anyway or maybe I need to hurt you again?'

'No, I'll do what you want.' I said with some resignation.

'Good. If you cooperate then we can both enjoy the benefits.' This time I felt a warm, rather sexy urge wash through me. 'Now, I need to inspect you. Show me yourself in a mirror.'

I picked myself up off the floor and went over to my wardrobe which had a full length mirror inside the door. I opened it up and struck a pose.

'Remove these clothes. How am I supposed to inspect you when you're clothed?'

With a sigh I pulled off my pyjamas and stood, naked, in front of the mirror. Under orders I struck a number of poses, not sexy ones but poses designed so the thing inside could inspect every inch of me more closely.

'Fit, healthy and of breeding age. This will do well. Now it is time for me to feed. You must copulate.'

'I must what!'

'You must copulate. You must perform the sex act. I feed on certain... essences... that are released when the host creature copulates. Find a suitable male and mate with him.'

'No way!'

'Perhaps you need persuading.'

There was yet another stab of pain and I collapsed to my knees.

'Please, please, it's not that easy. I can't just... I don't know anyone... and anyway.... Please, look in my mind. I know you can do that.'

There was a pause, a long pause, and once again I had that odd sensation that my mind was being read, as if my thoughts and memories were being investigated. This time the 'file cards' that were being selected all related to my sex life, or what little there was of it

'What curious mating rituals you creatures have,' the voice exclaimed. 'And you! You have only copulated with a male once and it appears that was unsatisfactory. It seems you prefer to copulate with other females! How is that supposed to create offspring?'

I'm in no way ashamed of being a lesbian, well, except in front of my mum, maybe, but this creature's disdain had me blushing to my roots.

'Yes, I prefer to copulate, as you put it, with other females. Does that matter? Can... can you only feed if I produce offspring? Maybe it would be better if you found another host, one who copulates regularly, and with men.'

'Finding another host is not an option at the moment. Anyway, I feed off essences produced by the pleasure of copulation. The production of offspring is not important. From what I have found from your memories it appears that your species can achieve pleasure without actually breeding, or indeed, partners. It appears the sex act is pleasurable in itself.'

'Why do you keep going on about "my species"? Who are you or rather what are you and where are you from?'

'That doesn't matter now. What matters is that I need to feed and I'm getting inpatient. If finding a mate is not possible at the moment you must perform the sex act on yourself.'

'What here? Now?'

'Is there a problem with that?'

I quickly thought about what the voice was saying. If it fed on 'essences' released when I performed 'the sex act' then it seemed as if it simply needed me to have an orgasm. Kneeling naked on my bedroom floor wasn't the most conducive position but, given its power to hurt me if I disobeyed, I didn't have much choice. I reached between my thighs and started rubbing myself.

'This is poor fare, poor fare indeed.'

'Maybe if you allowed me to get comfortable, to get back into bed, then it will be better.'

'If you must.'

I picked myself up off the floor and got back into bed where, at least, it was warm and comfortable. I stretched out my legs and started again. Mind you, it's hard to get yourself going when you know that someone, or should that be something, is looking over your metaphorical shoulder. 

'Where is the essence? This is very poor.'

'Well, it bloody well would be. You try feeling sexy when every move you make is being watched and analysed.'

'This may help.'

I felt something surge through my body and, suddenly, I was turned on, very turned on indeed.

'And this.'

A slideshow of images tumbled before me: Shane from The L Word, k. d. laing, that kiss from Desert Hearts, Kirsten from high school, Claire Balding, PC Andrews, Rachael Stirling from Tipping the Velvet, Naomi from college, Naoko Mori from Torchwood, Monserrat Lobard from Ashes to Ashes, all of my little crushes, each one as clear as day. 

And then, as if rewinding, the images rolled back until the image of PC Andrews was clear in my mind. It had only met her for a few moments and I had hardly been at my best but she had certainly left a deep impression. I remembered lying there, talking to her as I was helped onto the stretcher. OK, so maybe I do have a thing about girls in uniform, there's something about blue serge and those little hats they wear, but there was no doubt that she wore it well. She had looked so smart, so sexy. Ooh, she could arrest me any day and, having arrested me, I'd be under her control, I'd have to do what ever she said. From there I wondered what she would look like out of uniform and my fevered imagination supplied the answers. I would be down on my knees before her, worshipping, kissing, licking, tasting and then she'd take me to bed and...

The images fractured into a kaleidoscope of limbs, lips, kisses, caresses. It was as if I could actually feel her lips on my breasts, her hand, not mine between my thighs as she took me higher, higher, high...

"Oh my god!" I groaned as the climax hit me and, clamping my hands between my locked thighs, I squeezed every ounce of pleasure from the best solo orgasm I had ever had. It must have been something to do with the thing inside me because never before had it been like this, never before had my imagination been so clear, never before had I come so hard, so intensely, without any partner or other stimulation. Wave after wave after wave washed through me until, at last I could take no more and I collapsed, exhausted.

Gradually I got my breath back; gradually I returned back to earth. 

The inside of my head was curiously quiet. As I basked in the post orgasmic glow I could neither hear nor feel any effects from whatever it was that seemed to have infected me. Had it gone? Had one orgasm, however powerful been enough? I very much doubted it. I had to assume it was here to stay so, as I lay there, I thought about what, if anything, I should do about it. The answer was 'not much'. After all, if I tried telling people about these voices in my head that could force me to do things against my will then I was on a one way ticket to the funny farm. 

I got out of bed and found my laptop. Googling 'alien parasite' returned an unsurprising mix of bad science fiction and the occasional nutter. If anyone else had been infected as I was then they certainly weren't telling. Mind you, I wasn't keen to post my condition on the web either. Who knows what sort of person that might attract. For the moment, at least, I was on my own.

And, for the moment, I had very little to work on. 

I woke the next morning and still my head felt clear. Even so, as I went through my morning ablutions, I kept having that feeling that I was being watched. However, there was absolutely nothing I could do about it and my only real option was to behave as if everything was normal. I got dressed, ate my breakfast and headed off for the office.

By mid afternoon, when everything was still quiet, I had all but persuaded myself that the previous night had been some sort of crazy dream. Maybe I could relax, maybe I could just put all this craziness behind me.

This silence continued all the way until seven o'clock when, having stayed late to make up for the time I'd lost the day before, I was the last one left in the office. The door opened and I saw Yvonne, the office cleaner, doing her rounds, pushing her vacuum cleaner before her. This wasn't the first time I had worked late and bit by bit I had got to know Yvonne quite well. She's ever so nice; a Filipina single mum taking all the jobs she can get in an effort to get by and provide for her toddler. What's more even the drab olive green dress the cleaning firm provides as a uniform couldn't disguise the fact that she's got an arse to die for. I wouldn't be human if I didn't give her the once over as she bent down to empty the bins.

'That one! You will copulate with that female.' Oh, no! The voice was back.

'You have to be joking!'

'I do not joke. It is time for me to feed and it is quite obvious that this female makes your essences flow. You must copulate with her as soon as possible.'

'Just because she's got the cutest little butt does not mean I would ever dream of doing anything so inappropriate. Anyway, she's straight.'

'How do you mean, straight.'

'I thought you could read my mind. I mean she only copulates with boys, not girls. What's more, she's got a boyfriend. See that ring on her finger. She's just got engaged. She's off limits any way you look at it.'

'You're petty mating rules are none of my concern. As for any reluctance on her part, you must find some way to touch her.'

'No way, José.'

'I thought I had made it clear that disobedience will not be tolerated.'

The stab of pain to my gut was sharp and mercifully short. Even so I couldn't help but give a grunt of pain.

"Are you OK?"

"I'm fine, Yvonne, just a touch of indigest.... ooof!" I doubled up as another stab of pain hit me.

"You don't look OK." Yvonne, ever the sweetie, came over to my desk.

'Touch her! Touch her!' the voice inside me screamed and, as yet another stab of pain shot through me, I involuntarily put out my hand as if to fend it off. Yvonne, mistaking my intention, took hold of it. Immediately the pain inside me was replaced by a tingly ribbon of pleasure that ran from my groin, up through my body, along my arm and into Yvonne. For a moment or two we stared at each other and, at that moment, a wave of pure lust surged through me and I needed her more than I have ever needed anyone else, ever. I fought back the urge to grab her, throw her to the floor and...

Mercifully, before I could do anything, she snatched her hand away and ran for the door.

'Go and find her.'

'Please, please don't hurt her.'

'I won't hurt her but, if you don't go and find her, you know that I'll hurt you. Do it!'

I knew this was no idle threat and, anyway, I had this deep physical need of my own that would only be satisfied by touching her again. I took a guess and went down to the cleaner's room, the one where they store all the equipment. Tentatively I knocked on the door. 

"Yvonne, it's me, Jane."

"Go away. What have you done to me? It's wrong what you make me feel."

"I can't go away. Please, Yvonne, open the door. We need to talk."

There was a moment's pause and then the door was opened just a crack. Yvonne stared out; her deep dark eyes wild and fearful. Seeing no one else around she opened the door a little wider and pulled me in.

"What have you done to me?" She said trying to keep as far from me as the cramped cupboard would allow. "Why do you make me feel like this?"

"I don't know, Yvonne, really, I don't."

"You make me feel... I've never... I need... I need... Oh, god forgive me!"

Whatever had been holding her back just snapped. She pushed herself away from the wall and leapt on me, slinging her arm around my neck and pulling me into an embrace. While we exchanged saliva she used her free hand to tug at the buttons down the front of her uniform until it hung open. I was no less restrained, reaching inside her now open dress and slipping my hand inside the elasticated waistband of her panties. That was exactly what she wanted and she grabbed my wrist, forcing my hand further into her crotch. To my complete lack of surprise she was wet and willing and, when I cupped my hand, there was no resistance as my fingers slid deep inside her.

But neither of us wanted to stop there. Whatever the parasite inside me had done to us it wasn't interested in her pleasure; mine was all that mattered. Feverishly we worked together scrabbling at the waistband of my trousers. The button didn't seem to want to work so, in my urgency, I just tugged until it, and the zipper below, and the seam below that, gave way, ripping half way down my thigh, and we were able to push them, along with my panties, to below my knees. I opened my legs as far as my trousers would allow, Yvonne's hand reached between them and grabbed me the way I was grabbing her. Locked together and with no finesse or subtlety we frigged each other madly.


Parasite Ch. 01



Without for one second breaking our embrace she used her grip on me to guide us round until she could push me backwards onto a pallet of hand towels which, while not the most comfortable of beds, gave us something soft to land on and there, in amongst the mops, the dusters, the disinfectant and the floor buffer we copulated, rutting like animals in heat.

Because, to be sure, what we were doing had nothing to do with making love. Sure, I was fond of Yvonne in a 'friend at work' sort of way but that was irrelevant. The creature inside me was not interested in emotions, it wanted sex, raw sex and what we were doing was about lust, not love. Whatever the creature had done to us had given us primal appetites which needed feeding. We needed, desperately, one thing and that was to climax as hard and fast as possible. We weren't going to let tenderness or compassion get in the way. Her hand inside me was grabbing so hard that it hurt but that just made me want it more. 

With my free hand I reached round behind her and scrabbled at the catch to her bra until is came undone and I could push it out of the way. I broke from the kiss, bent forward and clamped down on her nipple using my teeth to bite, hard, harder.

In reply her hand went up, under my tee shirt and I felt her nails rake my back. Oh, god that was good, so good, yes, Yvonne, hurt me, hurt me, hurt...

I could feel my orgasm starting, the tension growing, and, for some reason, it was really important to me that Yvonne should come at the same time. Furiously I pumped my hand, my fingers curled into some sort of death grip for I knew that, like me, she wanted it as hard as I could give her. Meanwhile my teeth worked at her nipples, biting harder and harder, making Yvonne mew like a cat in pain. I rode the rhythm of her cries, we rode the rhythm of her cries until...

Her whole body went taut and, with an animal cry came from deep, deep within her as she, once more, raked her nails down my back. This, in turn, was enough to tip me over the edge and I hung on tight as, together, we dissolved into ecstasy. Her fingers down my spine, like her fingers in my cunt, felt so goddamn good, so perfect, so all too much, far too much, much too much... until it was too much and, exhausted and replete, I all but blacked out.

As I came too I realised just how much Yvonne was shaking with emotion. Whatever the creature inside me had done was now over and we were left with the tail end of an explosive orgasm and bodies that hurt like crazy. More importantly, now that the overwhelming sex drive was gone it was fast being replaced by an overwhelming sense of guilt. Yvonne was the first to come to her senses. She stood up, turned away from me and, as quick as she could, buttoned up her dress. I too struggled to my feet and pulled up my panties and trousers although, with the left hand side ripped almost to the knee, I was left having to hold them up.

Once her dress was buttoned Yvonne turned back to me. She was biting her lower lip and her eyes were full of tears.

"Jane, Jane, I thought you were my friend but tonight you make me do bad things. Go, go away and, please, stay away. You are not my friend any more."

"Please, Yvonne, let me...." Let me what? Let me explain? Explain? How could I explain? 

"Just go. Please, leave me alone."

There was nothing else to do but leave.

The journey home was painful and awkward. Simply boarding the bus was not so easy because, although I had done the best I could with the office stapler, I had to keep one hand on the waistband of my trousers so as not to expose myself. Fortunately my jacket covered my tee shirt which, by the feel or things, was now mopping up my blood from my back. Thank heavens that the bus was all but empty and I could find a quiet corner.

When I got home I peeled off my tee shirt and threw it in the bin. Maybe the blood stains would wash out but, somehow, for me they would always be there. My trousers followed. They were ripped far beyond repair. I would have to buy new at the weekend. I went to the bathroom and looked myself over. My back looked, and felt, like it had been mauled by a bear and, as for my nether regions, they were bruised beyond belief. I got under the shower and very, very carefully washed myself down.

One thing I did notice was that, like the previous evening, immediately after feeding the creature inside me was quiet. I didn't know whether this meant that it was sleeping or simply laying low but it felt like the former. I wondered how long this remission would last. It had been nearly twenty four hours since last time. Would it be as long before the next? This remission did, however, give me time to think. 

I had two serious problems. The long term problem was how to get rid of this thing, how to get it right out of my life forever. I had no idea where to even start on that one.

The more immediate problem, and one I couldn't put off, was how to keep it fed. After the episode with Yvonne it would appear that, as soon as it was hungry, it would force me to jump the nearest available female. The power it had had to force both Yvonne and me to have sex effectively against our will was more than frightening. I had, probably, irreparably damaged my relationship with Yvonne. How soon would it be before I ended up raping every other woman in the office? The prospect was far from appealing.

The biggest question was how often it would want to feed. So far it had been every day. Did that mean I was going to have to find a willing sex partner on a daily basis? Did that mean I had to find someone before tomorrow evening? That was a bit of an ask. I reckoned I had three options. 

Firstly the street girls; although it would work out costly, they wouldn't ask too many questions, would they? Not that I really knew. It wasn't as if I had ever even knowingly met a prostitute, let alone used her services. Do they even accept women customers? I'd never even contemplated this before The idea was, under normal circumstances, completely abhorrent. However, these were far from normal circumstances. 

Secondly, although I was never much of one for the local scene, I knew of a couple of clubs in town, clubs where I could reasonably rely on getting myself picked up for a bit of rough sex which seemed to be what the creature inside me was after. Trawling for anonymous pickups was not the most appealing of prospects but felt better than paying for it. Mind you, even with the best will in the world, I would soon run through the available partners and, in the rather small and gossipy lesbian community, I could only imagine what it would do for my reputation. 

The third, and best, option was to find myself a girlfriend, one who didn't mind the fact that her partner was possessed by a sex mad parasite who demanded regular athletic and all consuming sex. Of course this wasn't really an option. I hadn't found myself a girlfriend in months, no, make that years. Finding one for tomorrow evening simply wasn't going to happen. And then, even if I did, having to perform for the demands of some alien inside me would destroy any relationship just as fast as it had destroyed my relationship with Yvonne. 

Overarching all this was the fact that, whichever option I chose, I would have to persuade the thing inside me to let me try it. So far it had only interacted when it needed to feed. I wondered if that would work the other way around. I wondered if 'performing the sex act on myself' would get its attention. I was too bruised and battered, not to mention exhausted, to do anything about it that evening so I decided to wait until morning. In a feeble attempt to distract myself from my troubles I spent a listless evening in front of the telly before taking myself off early to bed and setting the alarm clock for an hour earlier than normal.

Come the morning I got up and made myself a cup of coffee. I knew what I had to do but wasn't sure of how. I mean, normally, playing with myself is something that 'comes naturally', so to speak, not something I decide to do in the cold light of morning. So, where to start? Run a bath, maybe, or take a shower? In the end I remade my bed, took off my pyjamas and slipped back under the covers.

I was still a little sore from the battering Yvonne had given me so, ever so gently, I reached down with my left hand and eased my nether lips apart. Then, after giving my right forefinger a good lick to lubricate it, I reached down with my right hand and rested my fingers over my joy button. 

Slowly, softly, I moved my fingers in leisurely circles. I remembered all the sexy images that the creature had recalled for me the last time I had done this. Why did the image of PC Andrews seem to trump all the others? That was crazy; I seemed to have some sort of schoolgirl crush on a woman I had only met for a few moments. 

I'd only ever seen her in uniform and those stab proof vests and high-vis tabards are not the most flattering of clothes but my imagination was doing a fine job of speculating on what was underneath. Anyway, I've never been much of one for the girly look. I like my women strong and powerful and if she felt the need to arrest me then I wouldn't be one to say no. I gave a deep sigh and upped the tempo slightly.

'What are you doing? Why are you performing the sex act?'

'I wanted to get your attention.' I mentally replied as I stopped what I was doing.

'Do not stop.'

'Ok, but I need to talk to you.'

'You need to continue performing the sex act.'

'OK, OK, I'm doing it. But, seriously, I need to talk to you about what happened last night. You must not make me do anything like that again. If you make me do things like that then you'll end up getting me locked up and that won't work for either of us.'

'Locked up?'

'Put in prison. Go on, search my mind. You know I can't lie to you.'

I had that file card feeling and, almost inevitably, images from the TV series 'Bad Girls' came to mind.

'That's television. It's not like that in real life. I don't know if you have to feed every day but you certainly won't if I'm in prison.'

There was more rifling through my mind and, this time, it seemed to believe me.

'Let me choose the who, the where and the when.'

'And why should I do that?'

'Because... because it will be better, better for both of us. And we'll be able to keep on doing it. Please, trust me on this, if we do it my way it will be better.' 

There was another of those pauses, that looking through my mind feeling, and then, 'These street girls, are they skilled at copulating?'

'Well, that's the idea. I don't know for certain; I've never met one.'

'But this...' in my head appeared an image of Billie Piper in Secret Diary.

'That's just telly. The real thing, well, who knows?'

'Very well. Arrange it so that today you will copulate with one of these street girls.'

'OK, but after work. Leave me alone until after work.'

'Do not leave it too late. If you disappoint me then we will revert to my way of doing things. Now, you must finish performing the sex act on yourself.'

'You could help out. You know it will be better for both of us if you do.' I felt another one of those surges go through me and, suddenly, playing with myself wasn't a chore, it was a necessity. The bruising and battering that Yvonne had left me with was no longer a hindrance, rather the little stabs of discomfort were adding a piquancy that was getting me higher. Whether by my own volition or prompted by the creature within an image of PC Andrews swam before me. In my mind, I could feel her taking me, holding me, ravishing me. Oh, god, I was becoming obsessed with this woman. I wanted her so bad. How much of that was down the thing inside me and how much was real? Did it matter? As my fevered imagination fuelled my fingers I didn't give a damn what caused it and, with a cry that might well have bothered the neighbours, I came and came and came and came.

For the rest of the day the thing inside me kept quiet. In its place my stomach was filled by a hundred million butterflies. My entire knowledge of prostitution was down to watching Secret Diary and now I was forced to make use of their services. For all that I had talked about 'street girls' that was not what I was after. Belle De Jour was more my style, or so I guessed. But where on earth was I going to find her.

Come lunch time I went out to the nearest Starbucks so that I could use their wi-fi. After all, the sort of sites I was after would definitely be blocked from work, let alone the danger of someone seeing what was on my screen. I got out my tablet and googled 'Melchester escorts' and was surprised by the number of hits. However, there was one, Xena's Massage Parlour, which looked to be head and shoulders above the rest. The web site was quite detailed and included photos of their "masseurs". Not that you could tell much but the setup did, at least, give the place a professional look.

I wasn't going to phone them from Starbucks, let alone work, because of the risk of being overheard. However, I didn't need the wi-fi any more so I went out into the park and found a quite bench to sit on. With the butterflies in my stomach now doing the Macarena I dialled the number.

"Good afternoon. Xena's Massage Parlour. How can I help you?"

"I've... I've been looking at your web site and I'd like to book a... a massage... for this evening."

"Certainly. Would that be in call or out call?"

"Err..."

"Would you like the girl to come to your house or do you want to come here?"

"Err.... I'll come to you." The thought of having a call girl round to my tiny bedsit didn't appeal.

"No problem. In which case, unless you had a particular girl in mind, you don't have to make an appointment. We're open twenty-four seven and, if no one is available you can always wait in our lounge. Now, we have special rates for couples..."

"It's just me. Err... I'm not a couple." I cut in.

"You're not a couple? You're not enquiring for you and your boyfriend?"

"No, I haven't got a boyfriend. There's just me." Well, me and my parasite but I wasn't going to tell her that.

"Oh! OK, that's a little unusual but I'm sure any of our girls will be able to accommodate your needs. Come to think of it... when you arrive you might want to ask if Sandra is available."

"So, I don't need to make an appointment; I just drop by whenever?" I asked for confirmation.

"That's right, love. You can't miss us. The address is on our web site and when you get here we're the pink door just past Johnston's Jewellers."

"I'll see you this evening, then."

And, with that, the phone call was over.

I wished I had been able to make an appointment. That might have helped stop me from dithering. The thought of actually going to a brothel, sorry, massage parlour, was turning my knees to jelly. I was having trouble concentrating at work and ended up leaving a bit early as I couldn't stand the tension any more.

I took the bus into the town centre and made my way to Cookson St. Halfway down was Johnston's Jewellers, or should that be Johnston's Pawnbrokers, and, right next to it, was a door painted pink with Xena's Massage Parlour printed on a discrete card over the doorbell. I rang the bell, the door buzzed and I let myself in. There was a short hallway and then some stairs which led to up to a room that was opulent, if a little tacky, its decorations attempting to be sexy and managing, just, to avoid sordid. At the far end was an open archway into an adjoining room.

"Can I help you?" A rather matronly woman appeared through the archway.

"I... I phoned earlier..."

"Oh yes, I remember, the young lady who was looking for a massage. Now, Sandra is available or maybe you would prefer one of the other girls."

"No, Sandra will do fine."

"Just take a seat for a moment, will you?" and, with that she returned to the adjoining room. I sat on a garish mock leather sofa and waited.

"Hello, I'm Sandra, and you are..."

I looked up. There she was, my date for tonight. Sandra was roughly my age, mid twenties, with bleached blonde hair and a trifle too much make up for my tastes. Playing along to the masseur image she was wearing a white lab coat. However, this image was slightly spoilt by the four inch stiletto heels and black stockings. Still, she was reasonably pretty and her open welcoming smile was reassuring. I reminded myself that it was in her interests to make me feel comfortable, to give me a good time and that, compared to some of the customers she must get, I would be easy money.

"I'm... I'm Jane," I replied. 

"Lovely to meet you, Jane. Would you like to come this way?" She led me off, through the adjoining room and beyond to a room where the main article of furniture was a huge bed. She closed the door behind use, turned to me and gave me a big, beaming smile.

"This is your first time, isn't it?"

I just nodded.

"Nervous?"

"A bit," I confessed.

"Well you don't need to be. I won't bite, well, not unless you ask me to," we both had a little laugh at this. "Now, is there something special you would like to do? There's no need to be shy. I've got all sorts of sexy toys, if that's what you'd like to try."

"No, nothing like that, I just want...." I wasn't sure how to explain what I wanted.

"Not sure what you want? Why don't we start with a bit of a kiss and a cuddle and take it from there. First things first, we're both a little overdressed." She reached for my jacket and eased it off my shoulders. "Let's get you out of these things and into bed where we can relax properly. Just put your things over that chair there."

She took the jacket from me and put it over the back of the chair. I was trembling so much that my fingers were barely functioning but it didn't take long before my clothes were off and I was slipping under the covers. Meanwhile she took off her lab coat to reveal that all she was wearing underneath was a rather fetching pink lacy bra and pantie set.

"On or off?" she asked pointing at her underwear.

"Off please," I replied.

She gave me another of those big, beaming smiles, slipped out of her undies and got into bed beside me.

"There, that's better. Just us girls together. Now, are you sure you haven't got anything special you'd like me to do? How about a strap-on? Or maybe you'd like something a bit kinkier. I'm quite a fan of kinky."

"No, nothing like that. I just want to..."

'Kiss her!' the parasite screamed in my head. I should have known that it would barge in at a moment like this. I leaned forward and gently kissed Sandra on the lips. As soon as I did so I felt the same tingly ribbon that I had felt with Yvonne. What is more, it seemed to affect Sandra in just the same way as it had affected Yvonne. Her response was strong and instant. A simple, gentle kiss immediately turned into a passionate snogging session with each of us trying to see how far we could push our tongue down the other's throat. Meanwhile our bodies entwined. It was as if we wanted to hold, to touch, as much of the other as possible.

Our writhing around soon had the result we both desired and, with our legs interlocked, I was grinding myself against her thigh as she did the same to me. 

"God, you're one sexy woman! Where did you learn to kiss like that," Sandra groaned, pushing herself as hard as she could against my thigh.

"You're not so bad, yourself," I replied doing the same.

She ducked her head down and started kissing my shoulders, my collar bone, my throat, then moving lower, kissing the upper bulge of my breasts, getting closer, closer until, finally, she was nuzzling at my nipples, using her teeth but gently. Even so they were so sensitive that each nip, each nibble, seemed to be connected by a fine golden thread running straight to my groin. I couldn't help but cry out in pleasure.




Parasite Ch. 01



"You like that?" she asked.

"Oh, yes, please!"

"Then lie back and enjoy."

She untwined our legs which was disappointing until she got settled, knelt over me with her knee firmly pressing against my groin. Now she was free to really kiss me all over, little light butterfly kisses fluttering over my upper body, making it sing out loud. I had been worried that sex with a prostitute would be cold, mechanical but Sandra was going out of her way to make it anything but.

"I should... I should...." I muttered, worried that it was all getting a bit one sided.

"You should just lie back and let me do my work," Sandra replied with a smile. "If that's OK by you."

"Oh, yes, very much so."

Sandra moved lower, kissing my belly. This meant that her knee was no longer in my groin, she wasn't that much of a contortionist but, as I knew, or rather hoped I knew, where this was going, I didn't mind. Far from.

Her kisses moved to the top of my pubic triangle, to the grooves at the top of my thighs, to the insides of my thighs, to...

"Oh, god, Sandra, yes!" I sighed as her tongue eased between my nether lips, opening me up.

Now, this was far from the first time that a woman had gone down on me but Sandra was no novice and the parasite had, as ever, cranked up my sensitivity so that, as her tongue flick-flicked against the sensitive nubbin of my clit, it was lashing me towards an orgasm like never before. She went in waves, pushing me towards a crest and then relaxing back again. Time after time after time she built up the tension, pushing me up and up through wave after wave after wave of pleasure.

Until we got to the wave that didn't break, the wave that grew and grew, building up the tension, my whole body taut like a bowstring, screaming for release, screaming for....

"Oh! My! God!" I guess the whole place must have heard my scream of joy as my whole body exploded and I was lifted up, up, up on a cloud of glory. Pleasure seemed to gush from me, taking a very physical form. For a long, long moment, I stayed there, right at the heart of my own pleasure before, unable to hold it any more, I collapsed back, exhausted and spent.

I was only vaguely aware of Sandra as she came back up the bed but, when I returned to earth, there she was. I reached out and gave her a cuddle.

"That was a bit special."

"Why, thank you. We aim to please."

"But what about you?"

"What about me?"

"You've given me the best orgasm ever and what have I given you?"

"You mean apart from the obvious?"

I blushed to my roots. Yeah, what I had given her was a great wodge of money.

"Look, that's really sweet of you," she continued, "but we're here for your pleasure not mine and, I hate to say it but, if we don't get a move on we'll run out of time and I'll have to charge you for another session. Seriously, pleasing you has been my pleasure; there's something special about you, something I can't quite put my finger on and, well, as I say, it's been my pleasure. Now, I hope you come back and see me soon."

"I may well do that."

And, with that, it was quite obviously over. Sandra was ever so sweet but also businesslike and it was quite clear that she wanted me gone so she could move onto her next customer. However, the warm inner glow from the orgasm meant that I was in such a good mood I didn't really care. I said a grateful goodbye and set out on my way home.

To be continued