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An Attachment Is Made Ch. 01

By: Drmaxc



Part 1 — Dislocation

"Ladies and gentlemen an attachment is about to be made. Please stand clear of the closing doors."

It had been an unusual train journey from start to finish. The guard had smiled at Sally in a friendly way as she had boarded the train but there had been something odd about his eyes which had made it difficult for her to look away. It had been the same when he had checked her ticket. It could not have lasted more than a second but it somehow seemed as if a long time had passed between her looking up at him, being caught by his strange eyes just as she handed him her ticket, and him handing the ticket back.

Sally settled back into her seat, putting her ticket away in her handbag, and looked around her. There seemed nothing amiss, nothing out of the ordi­nary; there was no indication that anyone else felt like she did—that some­thing odd had happened. But there was something, she felt it quite distinctly, something had happened when the ticket had been checked. But nothing could have happened—there was no time for anything to have happened. She had looked up as the guard had approached, had offered her ticket, he had taken it, she had noticed his peculiar eyes; not that she could quite think what was odd about them—given, after all, there had been just the two—he had punched a hole in the ticket, a little crescent, and given it back to her with a smile. Yet de­spite the un-remarkableness of the exchange Sally felt odd.

It was only when she decided to get her magazine out of her bag that she noticed—noticed by the feel of her blouse against her skin that she was not wearing a bra. Sally looked down at herself for confirmation, a hand to her breast but no, she was not wearing a bra at all. She frowned; she distinctly re­membered putting one on that morning—the new one she had bought last week from M&S. Yes, she had put it on, had had to adjust it; had admired its pretty shape in the mirror; yes, she was sure of it... but it most definitely was not there now. Sally was puzzled. How could she have forgotten to put on her bra, it was not something you forgot — any more than you forgot your panties (she was re-assured to check that she was indeed wearing those)? She was sure she had not forgotten. It didn't matter really, no one was going to notice providing she didn't stick her chest out, and it wasn't as if her nipples were standing. She could buy a new one on the way into work; put it on in the 'Ladies'. It wasn't a problem.

Sally opened her magazine, 'How to dump your boyfriend,' was the first thing that caught her eye. How appropriate, she thought, should she? She pic­tured Jerry. He was OK and it had been fun but, but it wasn't going to last. The feeling had been growing on her for days. Jerry was OK and fun but that was about it and 'OK' wasn't something to build 'forever' or even a long term rela­tionship upon. The summer holiday had been super though, yes fun, and she had really enjoyed that. Sally thought back to the week in the sun. Jerry hadn't told her where they were going, she'd thought it would be a hotel in Spain or Portugal, which would have been good, but he'd surprised her with a Greek is­land. It had been a long drive from the airport, on the wrong side of the road, but he'd done that and when they arrived it was not an hotel but their own small little villa. It was really sweet with its white-washed walls, Hibiscus and Bougainvillea growing in profusion and its view of the Aegean. It had its own swimming pool—all to themselves—and it was private, very private—not over­looked at all. And that was why when, almost immediately, Jerry suggested a swim and she'd said she'd find her costume, he'd asked "why?" So, feeling a little odd, she'd just dropped her clothes on the ground and stepped out hand in hand with Jerry into the sunlight completely naked. She'd looked to right and left but there was no one to see, no way for anyone to see—it really was pri­vate. And the feel of the hot sun on her skin after the rain in England- deli­cious!

"It's lovely," she'd said and kissed him.

She had the photos. Jerry had been snapping left, right and centre through­out the holiday. It was a good record and she'd been able to show her Mum nearly all the photos and given her a good impression of the holiday and how beautiful the island and its beaches had been. The photos she didn't show hadn't been rude ones. Jerry had wanted to but she hadn't acquiesced to that: though certainly a few had shown them without clothes on. Yes, 'them,' the self timer and little tripod had let Jerry take shots of them together. Sally par­ticularly liked the one of the two of them standing hand in hand, naked, by the pool as it reminded her of the anticipation of that first swim, just standing hand in hand looking out at their pool—yes, their own swimming pool for a whole week with the inviting blue water, the sun loungers and table and chairs with the cream parasol just sitting there waiting. It had all been just perfect. And it had been a perfect week under an unbroken blue sky, eating, drinking, exploring, swimming and... well, yes, she smiled at the recollection, it had in­deed been 'sun, sand and sex.'

The sex had been good. The photo of the two of them standing naked was an indication that it was going to be. Jerry was a good looking bloke—there was no question of that and her friends said so. There was no unnecessary fat on him, his was a strong chest, little bottom, neat curly hair and he stood six foot two. She smiled to herself again, yes and then there was his cock. Well that was all right too! It didn't show in that picture, well it showed but it was just there, just hanging there as it did, all surrounded by black curly hair but, whilst the photo reminded her of that first swim, it hadn't been like that on that first day standing looking at the pool before they'd got into the water. It had been up, big and hard and it had made her laugh.

"What's that for?" she'd said and slapped him on the rump making the erection bounce.

In the train carriage Sally shrugged to herself. Perhaps she should have let Jerry take some rude photos. She would actually rather like to have had one of Jerry standing erect beside her, to remind her of the biggest cock she'd seen—and ridden! Oh she'd miss the sex but that was hardly what a relationship is about. Yes, it had been fun but she was going to have to end it. She was edging to a decision. But when? Not tonight certainly; they were going out with some of his friends and then she was staying in his flat for the weekend. That meant quite a bit of sex and riding that big cock. She grinned in anticipation. A week­end of passionate sex and then on Sunday night just as she was leaving, tell him? Well, that hardly stacked up. She'd have to think a bit more about how to do this. How to hint it was over? It wasn't that she did not like Jerry, she did and would want to keep him as a friend, if she could, but, but it was not a rela­tionship with a future. Well, a long term future—so should it still have a short term future? Sally was cross with herself, she was moving away from a deci­sion, becoming indecisive. But, of course, the sex would be good...

It had been good that first time by the pool. Despite her saying, "What's that for?" She'd not been unmoved by the situation. They had walked down the steps into the pool hand in hand, gone into the surprisingly warm water and swam. Sally had not swum naked before, had not swum without a bathing costume or bikini and was surprised how different it felt not having even the thin material of a swimsuit on. It felt different between her legs as her thighs alternately opened and closed in the rhythm of breaststroke and it felt differ­ent on her breasts as they moved in the water, unrestrained. She had liked the feeling straightway and she'd liked seeing Jerry's body moving through the water un-obscured.

They had swum around, Sally had got up on the lilo and been tipped off by Jerry, gone underwater, got a nose full of water and her hair all wet but she'd come up laughing to find Jerry now lying on the lilo, his cock lolling across his hair. She'd tried to push him off but he'd held on, laughing at her ef­forts. And then she'd started sucking him, slipping his soft cock into her mouth. That had quietened him and he'd lain there docile as anything as his cock had grown big in her mouth. Of course, he had then been completely un­prepared for her lunge and had fallen right off the lilo and underwater. Sally had been away and was sitting on the pool edge before he'd surfaced, laugh­ing.

"Come and kiss me," she'd said to him. And he had, right there on her lips, right on the lips between her legs as she'd sat on the pool side. It had been lovely sitting there, legs over his shoulders, his face buried deep in her sex, his tongue moving with purpose, looking up at the so blue sky and simply letting Jerry bring her off—and he had done, she'd shuddered as she stared at the blue, blue sky, revelling in that lovely tingling orgasm feeling and the pleasure of holiday anticipation.

"Come on big boy," she could remember saying, "my turn." She'd slipped off the pool edge and swum out as Jerry had pulled himself out of the water. She had swum back towards him, admiring that big cock of his standing up ready; she'd cupped his balls and said, "What do you want me to do?" Sally had known what he'd say; it was his expression, what he liked to say.

"Drink me."

And she had.

Sally liked the feel of the head in her mouth, all silky smooth. She could run her tongue happily around it. She was not so sure when Jerry tried to push too much into her mouth—he really was rather big but the head was nice to suck on and suck she did. Sally soon had him close to coming, she could tell be­cause he always started a bucking motion which she didn't really like because it often nearly choked her.

"If you're going to do that I'm going for a swim." And she had, leaving him on the pool side all erect and frustrated—but she came back. Rather than putting his penis back in her mouth she licked it like an ice cream cone, right to the top.

Sally bit her lip and looked up in the train carriage, pausing in her reminis­cence. The guard had come back into the carriage and was walking through. It was lucky he couldn't read her thoughts or know what she'd said next to Jerry. It was so embarrassing what lovers sometimes said to each other, private things; it had been "drinkies time." She winced—baby talk when she was blow­ing him? But it had set him off. Sally hadn't been expecting it and she was still sliding her tongue up the long shaft and had just touched the smooth head when (out of focus because she was so close) she saw the first shot rush past and felt it landing on her forehead and hair. She had the head in her mouth in an instant and a hand on his balls as she flicked her tongue around the little hole whilst the semen streamed out. Typical Jerry, there was always a lot!

She had opened her mouth to show Jerry the semen, just as in that ridicu­lous movie he'd got her to watch, and she'd winked before swallowing the salty 'drink.' She recalled thinking at that moment that the holiday was going to be simply a perfect one and, looking back as Sally was now doing, it certain­ly had been.

The guard walked past and Sally realised she was smiling — not at him but at her recollection.

"Morning Miss," he said catching her smile and eye.

And it was as if a frame or two of a film was missing as her image of him seemed to jump fractionally sideways. It was very odd and stopped Sally's day­dream of her holiday. She glanced down at the magazine on her lap—only it wasn't there but on the seat beside her, opened at a different page. How pecu­liar, she did not remember putting it down and, and another thing, her trousers did not feel right as if, as if she was not wearing panties: but she was, she had only checked minutes before when she had realised she had no bra. Sally looked slowly around her; the people on the seats near her were en­grossed in their newspapers or books, so she slipped a hand into the waist­band of her trousers—to feel short curly hair but no cotton panties. She was sure she had felt them only minutes before; she was sure of it, but they weren't there now; they could hardly have been removed whilst she sat there, so they could not have been on at all; she must have been mistaken and forgotten to put them on that morning; how very, very strange and not something she could imagine herself forgetting at all. But like the bra it did not matter as she could buy some more at M&S—perhaps they still had that shell pink colour she liked.

It was not a short train journey and they still had to pick up another train before heading on to London and it was not long before Sally's thoughts drift­ed back to the holiday. They had gone to a little taverna for dinner which had been delightful—even the Retsina had been just about drinkable. That had been Jerry's choice—he said he really had a taste for it—but it was certainly not her choice later in the holiday! The Calamari, Souvlaki and Greek salad with a chunk of Feta had been good though, again, she was not so sure about the small cup of Greek coffee tasting of cardboard.

Back at the villa they had lain on the double bed without a stitch on or even a sheet, trying to stay cool with just an electric fan and no air condition­ing. Lying naked and rather sweaty next to Jerry it had not been surprising that her thoughts had turned to sex—she could feel herself getting nicely wet. She'd reached out towards Jerry in the dark towards his groin and found his mind was working in the same direction — his cock was like a rock. She'd not worried about much foreplay, a few tugs and she was astride him pointing his big cock straight up with her hand and letting herself down on it. She smiled at the recollection. The heat of the night, the two of them slippery with sweat in the pitch dark and with the whirr of the fan for company. She had let herself down slowly, filling herself with Jerry's cock until there was nothing left to go in.

"Comfortable?" she'd said, and his hands had come to her breasts, squeezing and playing. She'd lent forward, kissed him and begun to ride.

They'd needed to shower again after, it made them cool for a moment again, and satiated with sex she'd slept through 'til the morning

She had awoken a little bleary and gone to the bathroom for a pee. Com­ing back Sally remembered she'd stood and looked at Jerry still fast asleep but with a morning erection. She recalled wondering what he was dreaming about and had stood there playing with herself looking at his cock, which occasional­ly twitched suggesting the dream was a good one! Coming back to herself on the train she bit her lip in amusement remembering that she'd suddenly been worried he would have a 'wet dream' and all that hardness would disappear in a fountain of semen. The image of Jerry's cock spurting without a hand or any­thing touching it was erotic and her fingers had moved faster, she recalled, but she certainly hadn't wanted to waste the erection and had thought the sooner it was in her the better. It had been soon. She was on the bed, straddling and in­serting, just as the night before, in a trice.

Jerry had woken only to complain he desperately needed to pee but Sally had not let him get up and had ridden him to her orgasm as he lay rather unre­sponsive under her watching as she pulled her nipples by herself, using him.

He'd limped to the bathroom as soon as she got off and she heard the splash in the pan go on and on—she'd felt a bit guilty. He really had been bursting. Even so, she'd laughed at him, she remembered, as he came back to the bed with his penis still very erect, very wet from her and bobbing about. He'd put her over his knee and smacked her like a little girl before planting her back on the bed on all fours and taken her doggy style. She'd reached under and played with his balls. He had not been long in coming!

Sally looked up again with a smile on her face at the recollection to see the man opposite her looking at her. He looked away. Yes, there had been a lot of sex that holiday.

Picking up her magazine again she'd settled down to read. Outside the window the countryside crawled by. She frowned and wondered why the train always, well nearly always, went so slowly at this point in its journey. Surely the signalmen knew it was coming—it did, after all, do the journey every day.

There was a noise behind her and the guard walked past and once again she had that feeling of disconnection and her view of the carriage seemed to jump.

Yes, she had been thinking about sex but it had not got her particularly 'ex­cited', it was just pleasurable reminiscing, not really causing her to get wet, yet all of a sudden she felt 'sopping.' Sally moved her thighs, yes, undoubtedly she was as wet as she'd ever been and no it wasn't wee, she'd have felt herself going and she hadn't wanted to anyway, plus it felt different. How could she suddenly be all wet and ready for intercourse; it didn't make any sense; she didn't just become wet; she had to be aroused and feel the moisture slowly coming and her lips engorge but, as far as she could tell, they weren't; it was if she was ready for sex physically but not in her mind; how very odd. She clamped her legs shut hoping the wetness wouldn't seep through her trousers — why hadn't she got panties on?

The journey was proving something of a trial. First she had discovered she had no bra, then no panties and now all this sopping wetness between her thighs. She wondered if she should go to the train lavatory and take a look. She must have looked a bit worried, or flushed or something because the guard—why was he moving up and down the train so much—stopped and said,

"Are you feeling all right, Miss?"

She'd mumbled something in reply, "Sort of."

And he'd smiled and nodded, whilst looking at her. Again that feeling of dislocation — was she sickening for something but now she felt something dif­ferent. Her nipples were standing and feeling, feeling like they did when Jerry (or one of her earlier boyfriends) had been a little enthusiastic in his sucking and... and most peculiarly her clit felt the same way, as if it too had recently been vigorously manipulated and she was still feeling as wet as before. But she was aroused now—how had that happened — and there was a jumble of words in her mind—and the word 'attachment' kept coming into her mind.

The train guard was still there, "You're looking a little flushed?"

"No, no, I'm OK really." But she wasn't, certainly not how she normally felt on her morning commute into London.

The train slowed and came into a station. The doors opened and stayed open. Sally knew; knew from regular travel that they had to wait for the other train to join them and it was late—again.

Sally shook her head to clear it. She didn't feel right and wondered if standing would do her good. Perhaps she should cross the platform and go home? Getting up, she moved over to the open train doors and stood looking out at the platform. A few more people got on.

Sally heard the announcement. The announcement that the other train had arrived and was about to be coupled:

"Ladies and gentlemen an attachment is about to be made. Please stand clear of the closing doors."

As the second train was joined to the first there was a jolt as the one set of carriages pushed the other set. Sally felt the jolt through her body but it was as if a cock had pushed hard right into her. She gasped and came in a stun­ning, jolting orgasm leaving her clutching the carriage partition and half falling to her knees. The woman next to her was looking startled as if she had seen a ghost or something very surprising.

"You... the guard..." she'd said and then stopped and looked away, "...nothing, I..."


An Attachment Is Made Ch. 01



Sally staggered back to her seat, feeling confused and very weak at the knees. She could not understand what had happened at all. One did not just come like that and what about the sensation of penetration and the woman looking at her in that way? The woman was still looking at her now with a very puzzled expression. Sally looked away. And she felt even damper, as if that was possible, almost as if a man's ejaculate was running out of her. She crossed her legs feeling very 'squishy' there and stared out of the window.

After a few minutes she got up and holding first one seat, then another walked up the carriage, past the woman, and then into the next carriage to reach the lavatory. She was surprised to see the guard again, right by the lava­tory. He'd even opened the door for her as she'd reached it, as if he'd known where she was going—but of course where else would she be going? There was no buffet on board.

Inside, with her trousers down, she found she was not particularly gooey at all. In fact she'd felt drier as she'd stepped through the door. The seam of her trousers inside—where the legs joined—looked damp though. Peculiar, she had felt so soggy walking up the carriage.

Resuming her seat, Sally settled back with her magazine and everything felt quite normal until the train got close to London. Then the strange feeling of dislocation occurred again. She couldn't wait to get off the train.

The walk from the station to the office had been a trial for her. Not only had she all the strangeness of the train including her orgasm to contend with but she had to do some shopping at M&S for the items she had not put on that morning and worse, she had noticed it the moment she'd stood up, there felt as if there was something inside her—yes there!

And there was. Sitting on the 'loo' in the office she'd felt and extracted with a little difficulty a silver coloured cylindrical object, rounded at both ends, as if ideally made for vaginal or even rectal insertion. Sally was fright­ened. How had that got there? She held it in her hand staring at it. What was it? After a time her fingers moved — the object unscrewed, there were two halves joined by a screw thread, and inside it was a piece of folded paper.

'Once upon a time there was a girl on a train, first her bra went, then her knickers. Was she stuffed – oh, I think so!

I would so like you as my friend and plaything for just a month—but that is all: then you are free and I will let you go. Promise!

So Monday morning it is Pink blouse for yes: blue blouse for no.

Pink blouse to receive instruction in the message box.

Blue blouse, then you'd better have a coat because, sure as eggs are eggs, the blue blouse will disappear just like that!

Oh yes, you can write to me. You know where to leave the message!

Your friend.'

Sally re-read and re-read the message and just sat and stared. What had happened, what had she to do, what was this all about? How had the message been inserted in her vagina without her knowledge? How, what, why?



An Attachment Is Made Ch. 02



Part 2 — Junction

Sally really did not know what to do. A message for her in a container pushed into her vagina without her knowing anything about it. That could not be: but yet it was.

She wanted to talk about it but couldn't seem to get the words out to her friend, Jessie, at work. It was too unreal, too peculiar to start with—how could she explain it to Jessie or Jerry. And could she confide in him, given she was (probably anyway) about to dump him. She was subdued all day and not exact­ly brilliant company with Jerry and his friends that evening.

Back at Jerry's flat she had tried to make the effort. She'd dropped her clothes to the floor, as soon as they were in.

"I'm sorry I've been so dull this evening Jerry, I've been a naughty girl and need spanking."

He'd picked her up in his arms, she liked a man to do that and put her over the settee back. She'd been helpless, her bottom in the air, the material of the settee-back on her nipples. And he had spread her legs.

"No, headmaster, please don't stick your thing in me I haven't been that bad." She giggled trying to forget what was really on her mind. Trying to make it good for Jerry, play acting, trying to make amends.

There was a pause. Was Jerry going to stick himself in her? She could feel herself moistening in anticipation not like the morning. No, she mustn't think of that, mustn't spoil Jerry's evening and Monday was a long time away. But what had happened, what....

She jumped—what was Jerry doing? It tickled, he was tickling her bottom, no, her bottom hole, her arse, with a feather—and it tickled. She tried to rise but in her position, his hand on her shoulders and standing between her thighs there was nothing she could do but submit to the tickling. It was almost unbearable, she was ticklish and, of course, her bottom was very sensitive. She wriggled and cried,

"Stop, stop, please I'll do anything..."

But Jerry obviously knew that.

"Please, please Headmaster, I'll suck your cock every day, I'll..."

There was a pause and then the smacking started. Still Sally could do nothing and she had, after all, asked for it. She was excited now, properly wet, she wanted Jerry's fingers between her thighs, touching, stroking teasing.

"Please, please your big cock, Headmaster."

But it was not fingers or the smooth dome of Jerry's inevitably hard cock but the feather again. It tickled her clit and she squirmed in pleasure as it light­ly flicked again and again.

There was a pause and then she'd felt it. Jerry's big cock sliding slowly and easily into her right up to the hilt. He'd stroked in and out, sliding on her wetness for quite a time as she'd squirmed helpless, bent over the settee be­fore he'd withdrawn still holding her down.

"Time for bed," he'd said but not before he had pushed the quill end of the peacock's feather into her bottom so when, at last, she'd been allowed to stand up she had had to walk around with it sticking out of her bottom like a tail.

"It suits you," he'd said and she had chased him into the bedroom where they had fallen on the bed and fucked to a mutual orgasm.

Later, in bed, she'd tried to tell Jerry but the words wouldn't seem to come and almost immediately, of course, he was asleep. Sally lay beside him awake for a long time thinking about what had happened. How, who, why? Well, the why seemed pretty obvious. A month, a month only. Should she tell the police, what, that she'd been raped on the train (had she?), what had that women seen? The woman had said 'the guard' — was it him? He'd certainly been around a lot and been, well, not quite odd. But how? It was a long time before Sally slept.

Monday came around. Sally was feeling defiant—and why not to some­thing she did not understand and could not, in any case, possibly be real? Her bra and panties were definitely on, as she was sure they had been on Friday with a blue blouse and a jacket. It was an uneventful journey despite her initial worry when she had got on, all the way until the station when the other train joined. She had heard the usual announcement,

"Ladies and gentlemen an attachment is about to be made. Please stand clear of the closing doors."

Once again, she had that odd feeling of displacement and looked around the carriage but the guard was not to be seen. Sally was about to turn back to her magazine when she noticed the young men opposite staring at her, staring at her chest and nudging each other. To her shock and dismay she realised all she now had on were her trousers and jacket. Through the opening of her jack­et her pinky-brown nipples were peering out like little pink piggy noses sens­ing the air—much to the pleasure of the young men opposite. The jacket was a short one. Sally did not like to think of the embarrassment had her trousers gone as well. She buttoned the jacket up tight and tried to ignore the young men. Her mind was in a whirl. The guard, if it was he, had struck again—most effectively—and there was clearly nothing she could do about it.

Sally was not surprised to feel something inside her again as she got up to get off the train. She understood the import of the cryptic 'message box.' What would it say now? And would she have to buy a pink blouse to wear on the morrow?

'One, two, three and the blouse is gone!

Honestly, I would still like you as my friend, I mean no harm, just for you to be a plaything for a month—what is the difficulty in that?

So Tuesday morning it is Pink blouse for yes: blue blouse for no.

Pink blouse for instructions in the message box

Blue blouse then...

Your friend.'

Friend? Sally snorted; hardly the actions of a friend.

Sally wanted to talk, wanted to tell but couldn't. Couldn't get the words out if she tried—and she did try explaining to Jessie but the words just did not seem to come.

There was nothing for it. She could miss a day or two at work but then she would have to go back, it was just putting off the time. Could she go a different way to work—difficult—the train was the only sensible way without a car and driving into London every day was not ideal even if she had a car (and could drive).

A rather worried Sally, in a pink blouse, sat on the train Tuesday morn­ing, magazine in her lap. Nothing very strange happened. The guard came down the carriage and smiled at her just the same as on Friday and said,

"Thank you, miss."

As he took her ticket. She frowned at him. Was that a thank you for the ticket or the pink blouse? He just nodded at her and kept smiling.

"Very good, miss, very good."

There was, though, a message, a message she found later in its silver con­tainer, a message hidden in her...

'Well done. That's the ticket!

Thought I'd see you in the pink.

Thursday evening at the junction. Wait outside the station.

Your friend.'

What junction? It must be the station where the trains were joined.

It was not, of course, her usual stop. Sally ordinarily just passed through that town and station on the train but this time, on the Thursday evening, she got off and stood in trepidation outside the station with a small bag. Was she staying? She had brought her night things and clothes for the next day at work. What was going to happen? She could not think it would be anything but sex—sex with a stranger—cheating on Jerry but she was still in two minds about him. Perhaps she would know about him by the end of the month, the month mentioned in the cryptic message.

Sally looked about her. Commuters were hurrying home and not giving her a second glance. She felt something in her hand—a piece of paper.

'Good to see you. You are looking a peach.

Walk down Station Approach, turn right, and then left.

Your friend.'

Sally started walking. How was he doing this? Was this magic? She turned right then left, should she keep walking? Another paper appeared in her hand and she followed the instructions

'Up the street, first left, second right, no. 32.

Your friend.'

He was taking her to his house. She walked up his street looking for no. 32. The door was open Sally walked in.

She stood in the hallway and put her bag down. There was no sign of any­body and she was uncertain what to do. After a moment she called "hallo."

All of a sudden the door into the front room was open. She walked in and there he was—it was indeed the guard—sitting in a chair. He rose,

"Hallo Miss, good of you to come."

Sally's hands went to her hips. "What do you want?"

"Wasn't my message clear?"

"Yes."

"Well you tell me!"

"Plaything, you wrote."

"Yes, meaning?"

Sally didn't like to say it, didn't like to say it about herself, "Sex toy, sex object, you want to have sex with me for a month."

"Yes, please, and?"

"And?"

"And what else."

"Else?" Sally thought back to the notes.

It came to her. "Be my friend! Hardly. What sort of friend does this?"

"Does what?"

"Whatever you do?"

"And how do you think I do that?"

"I don't know—magic, hypnosis, whatever."

"It would be a much nicer month if we are friends, you know. Surely you don't want me forcing you."

"You've already done that once."

"Well yes, so I have, but not really forced—you didn't resist did you?" He chuckled. "Didn't even know about it 'til I let you. Didn't you like coming on the train, all of a sudden? I'd really prefer if you were willing. It's only for a month, after all, that's a promise."

"This is not willing."

"You have come all prepared to stay the night though."

"No I haven't."

"You have—it's all in your bag."

"You can't have looked, you haven't had the time."

"Ah, well, that's the trick, you see, I have all the time in the world." He smiled. "I can stop time at will."

Sally looked blankly at him but then he wasn't there.

"You see, I just stop time and move, then restart and hey presto, nobody knows what I've done in the meantime or mean-not-time if you like." The voice came from behind her.

Sally whirled around and the guard was sitting just as before but in a chair behind her.

"So it was easy to remove your bra, your panties and, another time, your blouse—even fuck you—and there was nothing you could do about it!"

"But the orgasm. I don't just come like that."

"Well, I have found that a little whispering, when time has stopped, in someone's ear has a certain force. It's odd but people seem to act on it. So miss, how is it to be, because we might as well get started. Are you going to take those clothes off for me all by yourself because, whilst I have seen every­thing there is to see and have taken your clothes off before, having you animat­ed will be so much better; or would you prefer if I just take them off you as you stand still unknowing as a statue or shall I whisper in your ear and you find yourself doing a strip tease? I am sure I can find some appropriate music. I'd prefer the former, so much more being friends!"

Sally did not know what to say.

"Would you prefer," he went on, "would you be less embarrassed if I got naked first?" He got up and took off his jacket.

"I..." it was coming to Sally that she really was about to have sex with this man. His tie was off now.

"I'm not sure about this," she said as his shirt came off.

He wasn't a bad looking bloke. Shorter than Jerry but, like him, not gone to fat, tight bottom and actually not bad looking. If she was going to have to have sex with this man it could have been worse: he could have been flabby and fifty or sixty whereas the guard was only about thirty and certainly in rea­sonable trim.

"Look, do we really have to do this? Can't I just leave and forget about it?" His shoes and socks were off now and his hand was on his belt.

"Come on, miss, I've gone to a bit of trouble to get you here. Now how's it to be—voluntarily, it just to happen or under the influence? You decide, but I did say I'd strip first so you weren't embarrassed."

Embarrassed? This wasn't about embarrassment thought Sally. But then there he was completely naked. She couldn't help herself, her eyes dropped to his cock. It was going to be in her in a few minutes and there was nothing she could do to stop that. Unless she sucked him off, of course, but that would just be putting off intercourse probably until the morning — he would no doubt want to fuck before work. What should she do, what could she do?

He was looking at her expectantly. With a shrug of her shoulders Sally began to remove her pink blouse. The guard smiled and nodded,

"Just the ticket," he'd said.



An Attachment Is Made Ch. 03



Part 3 — Please

Sally walked down the road to the station in the morning. She sighed. It hadn't been that bad. She could cope; it was only for a month after all, or so the guard had said, but how was she going to juggle this -- this what? How should she de­scribe it -- juggle this new obligation with being with Jerry? Jerry would sus­pect she was seeing someone else... and she was—actually. Well that was one way to dump him, if she did want to, especially now.

She thought about the guard and his cool confidence. He hadn't even asked her name -- probably knew it anyway.

Despite her initial resolution she hadn't been able to go through with it—stripping off for the guard. He had sat down and looked at her all expectantly but she'd stopped halfway through un-buttoning her blouse.

"I can't."

No sooner had she said it than she found the blouse in her hand with her standing there in trousers and her white bra but with the guard still seated as if he hadn't moved an inch.

"Nice. What next?" He had nodded encouragingly.

"I can't believe you just did that," she'd stammered.

The guard had just smiled. "Do you need any further help?"

Sally did not want help but the inevitability gave her courage and she had unhooked her bra and let it fall forward into her hands. She had frozen; really not wanting to go any further and unsure how to go on.

The guard had stood up and very gently taken the bra from her and she'd let him. "Nice," he'd said again and touched her, touched her breasts.

She'd pulled away.

"I can't do this."

"Of course you can. Let me help you" and his hand had moved to the waistband of her trousers and before she could stop him, the trousers were around her ankles. He had done 'it' again.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"None of your business."

She was almost naked.

"I don't want to do this."

He'd nodded as if understanding her difficulty and smiled and comple­mented her on her body. "You should be a model."

"Page 3," she'd said with a snort.

"Well yes, but I was meaning fashion not Men's Mags."

He began slowly rolling her panties down her legs. Trembling, she let him. He took her hand and she stepped out of her panties and he led her around the room, both completely naked.

"So here we are. Two nudists at home."

It did feel a little like that to Sally.

"Do you sunbathe naked? Do you and your boyfriend like to be naked to­gether outside?"

Sally thought of Greece, "Yes, on holiday."

"So there is a boyfriend."

Sally grimaced. His simple trick had worked.

"Please tell me about it."

And, what was surprising, she had told him about the holiday. About the little whitewashed villa and how she had dropped her clothes on the ground and she and Jerry had stepped naked into the pool. She found herself telling him about the sex and her worry; whether she and Jerry were suited; whether she should end the relationship or give it a few more weeks. And all the while he had listened, as they sat side by side naked on the sofa with her hand in his, him nodding but saying very little, just listening as she tried to make sense of her feelings.

"What do you think?" she had said—asking him his opinion about her re­lationship. She was surprised at herself. Not only had she told this man, this man who had forced himself upon her—well not today so far, but he had cer­tainly forced her here and to become naked—told this man some of her most private thoughts but was actually asking him his opinion. It was like coun­selling—nude counselling — forced nude counselling.

"Jerry sounds a good bloke, he does all the right things, that is what you are saying but you are also suggesting something is lacking. You don't want to be precipitate. Perhaps you should set a time limit and if your feelings haven't settled then call it a day."

"I'll give it a month," she'd said. Not quite counselling — he had ventured an opinion but it was what she had been close to thinking anyway.

"The same for us," he'd replied bringing her back to the present. Her pre­sent situation naked with this man, indeed about to have sex with this man she did not know, a man she was not romantically involved with—it wasn't even a one night stand with a man she had met having drunk too much. Not that she had actually ever done that, but plenty of her friends had had casual sex—sex for the sake of it, for the shear animal pleasure. No, she had not been like that. It had been with boyfriends; of which there had been quite a few lead­ing up to Jerry.

"I don't want to do this. I don't want sex." She was surprised he had not al­ready touched her, not already tried to get her to open her legs. Instead he had listened, gently holding her hand, as she had told him far more than she would have expected to—about her feelings for her boyfriend. Why had she done this? He seemed to be, or was trying to be, so friendly yet he had virtually taken her clothes off.

"Perhaps if you relax a bit, it will be easier. I'm not going to force you, you know, it's not something friends do, is it? But I would like to have sex with you, proper sex and not just for my own pleasure but I want you to come too, to or­gasm, I want to see your pretty face with that especial look of ecstasy."

"I don't know you, I'm not in love with you, and I'm not excited at all. That is not going to happen."

"You think not? Well I wonder. Perhaps you are a little frightened; hardly the right state of mind for sex. Would it make you relax if I promise not to have sex with you unless you ask for it, as a friend?"

"Not very likely, is it!"

"Do you like being stroked? My cat does."

"Well, depends by whom, doesn't it?"

The guard's hand touched her naked arm and he began to stroke.

"You're not going to get me excited and wet just by stroking me even if you were to massage my breasts."

"Well we shall see, now just settle back and relax. I'm not forcing you just stroking, now is that nice?"

"It's all right."

He kept stroking her, first her arms, then her head, then her shoulders. It was actually quite pleasant and, yes, relaxing. It was not too bad. His hand moved to her chest, between the valley of her breasts. Obviously they were going to be touched next.

"It's not working you know, I'm relaxed but not excited any more than you are." She had glanced at his cock; it was just lying limply across his thigh pos­ing no danger to her.

His fingers were stroking the undersides of her breasts now, just gently, an easy stroking movement, then they moved back to the valley, climbing up ei­ther side before moving around the breasts but keeping away from the peaks. Sally closed her eyes; this really was quite relaxing but not stimulating. Stimu­lating was different. The guard's fingers were now slowly circling the mounds of her breasts. She smiled as the fingers began circling closer. The Guard did not hurry like Jerry.

"Shall I touch your nipples now?"

"Please." Oh, what had she said, she hadn't meant it as an invitation. It had just been she'd wanted to be stroked there. She opened her eyes. Oh relief, for a moment she'd thought her nipples were standing. She watched as the fin­gers came round and round almost touching her areolae. Then he stopped.

"Do you think, perhaps, a little massage oil?"

He didn't wait for an answer but picked up a little bottle from a side table, Sally didn't remember seeing it there, and, unscrewing the lid, he let drops of oil splash onto her nipples. She shuddered, that was really good, oh no, her nip­ples were both rising, forming themselves into little hard buds without his fin­gers touching her at all—just by the feel of the oil dropping cool and slippery onto them. His fingers strayed into the brown of her areolae. Sally bit her lip, his fingers felt good—but they shouldn't.

"Three little erections now, I see, but when will we get a fourth?"

What? What was he talking about? Three or four erections, surely there would just be his, oh, unless he meant her nipples, that would make three—and the fourth must be her clit. She'd never really thought of herself as having erections! But he said little?

Sally looked and, yes the guard was erect, but it wasn't much to write home about. It was not at all like Jerry's impressive shaft.

"Embarrassing isn't it," he said as his fingers closed on her now oily nip­ples, fingers just touching the sides as they went round and round, "not some­thing to impress the girls with. Some men like big breasts, some men like little breasts but I've never heard of a woman with a fetish for small cocks."

"It's not size that matters—but what you do with it," said Sally tritely. She had at first meant to say something derogatory but his candid comments had unsettled her, she did not like to be nasty. It was not friendly.

"They can be too big," she said, perhaps a little unconvincingly.

His fingers were on her nipples now. It felt really good, good like it shouldn't. The guard had made her nipples hard, he was making her excited, and her body should not be reacting like this. She did not want that. Even so, she was not dismayed when he dropped yet more oil on her nipples and began gently drawing the areolae and nipples up in his fingertips, pulling them away from her body until they slipped back through his oily fingers. It was a lovely feeling and Sally was conscious it was being transmitted to lower down; she could feel herself becoming a little wet. How was he doing this, making her sex­ually excited? He was tricking her, using his whispered suggestion out of time, but how was she to fight it? The guard dropped a little oil in her tummy button where it pooled; he dipped a finger in and began a circular movement across her tummy. How was she to fight it? Did she want to?

"You'll get oil on the sofa," she said practically.

"Stand up then."

Sally stood in front of him; naked between his knees as his fingers drew oily patterns across her tummy; she could feel a little oil, just a droplet, run­ning downwards and, in her mind, she could imagine it running down through her forest of golden hair to reach the little valley and fall into it, to run on down and down into the deeper valley and to pool around her clit, an oily warm pool around the island of her clit; only, given she was standing, the pool would have to obey gravity and slowly the oil would creep down, or was it up, that little round hill to form a drop once more right on its summit, elongate, pulling at her clit, only then to fall from her to the carpet. She could almost feel it, as if the adventurous drop of oil had really made the journey. Sally's thighs pushed tightly together, the image had been intensely erotic.

The guard's fingers were on her thighs now, spreading the oil, fingers slip­ping upwards, stroking upwards towards the vee of fair curls. Sally desperate­ly wanted to open her thighs, even if only just enough, and let those fingers in. She mustn't let him though, if he did that she would be lost, he would have her, she would let him, no ask him: she knew she would. But he wasn't trying to force his way between her thighs, he was just stroking, stroking her thighs with oily fingertips, creeping into her curls, running his fingers down the join of her legs to her pubis and, yes, running an oily finger down her crack. She was leaking now; she knew her wetness was seeping onto her thighs.

It was no use, standing there before him, standing between his knees, his hands on her; she was going to have to open her legs, stand legs apart as his fingers made their way up her inner thighs to touch her sex. She didn't want to ask him, there was no surrender in just letting him—was there?

It was a relief just to spread her legs a little, move her feet apart, open her­self to the fingers she knew would soon touch her. The guard's hands stroked inwards to the soft skin above her knees before moving upwards but so frus­tratingly slowly. She mustn't ask him to hurry, mustn't plead but she could feel a trickle of her own lubrication running down her right thigh towards his fingers. She felt beaten — he'd soon feel that, feel her excitement, know he had won. He was so much gentler than Jerry, prolonging her pleasure, his touch so designed to stimulate, bring out her reaction. Surely he must be feeling her wet­ness now; he was so close to her sex. Sally shook as the guard's fingertips brushed the curly hair at the join of her legs to her labia. He held his fingers completely still and leant his head forward to kiss her gently just above her pubic hair before settling back on the sofa, his fingers unmoving.

The waiting, the lack of movement, the lack of stimulation was too much for Sally. "Please," she said, "please fuck me."

The light touch of his fingers ceased as the guard lent back on the sofa and with a small hand gesture indicated his standing penis. Sally realised it was not going to be him fucking her but the reverse: it was for her to fuck him. "Fuck it," she thought, "I need that inside me." She straddled his thighs; her knees pressing into the sofa either side of them, the guard made no move to help her. She settled herself down feeling for the tip of his cock. She felt it all right not slipping into her vagina but bang on her clit, she jumped, "fuck," she said, and moved and settled down again slightly closer to him.

Sally looked at the guard's face expecting a look of triumph but instead she received an encouraging nod and he said, with a completely straight face, the familiar words, "Ladies and gentlemen an attachment is about to be made. Please stand well clear." It was funny.

She was right on target. With her wetness, entry was easy and she began to ride, feeling his knob rubbing against her as it slid up and down, up and down.

"My breasts," said Sally, "please play with them."

The guard obliged.

Sally was close to coming now and she moved faster, bouncing up and down on the sofa, hearing the springs creak. The guard was pulling her nip­ples and then it happened, Sally's eyes closed, her breathing came in short pants and she screwed up her face; lips parting as she came in waves -- real waves of pleasure.

"Oh that was good, that was good," she said as if she had been in bed with Jerry. She opened her eyes, "I mean..."

He was staring at her face, "What a picture of ecstasy on your face, really something to capture in a photograph, such a pretty image."

She was still on his cock; the penis of this man she did not know was still inside her, she could feel its hardness; she looked down, their curly hair was to­gether shiny wet with the exertions of sex.

"Have you come?" she asked.

"Not yet. May I?"

It was an odd question to ask given the position of his cock, the mere act of her pulling upwards to separate them might set it off; given his power over her he could really choose what to do — if he asked her to go on all fours and stick her bottom in the air there was not much she could do but comply and, anyway, wasn't it her who had asked to fuck? Maybe he had tricked her, or used his influence, but she had desperately wanted to fuck—there was no get­ting away from that — and if she had come and he hadn't it was only fair that...

"Yes," she said and slowly started the fucking movement again drawing herself up his cock and down again, ensuring her wet sheath caressed it and stimulated it towards ejaculation. It was she who did the moving, she who stimulated it, she who encouraged the spurting of the man.

The guard's hands returned to her breasts and she watched him as she moved bringing on his climax, watched him as his own face showed the half surprised, half ecstatic look of orgasm, as he came inside her, releasing his seed in what should only be Jerry's place.

Sally had indeed stayed the night. She had just assumed that was what was expected and the guard had cooked for her and cooked really well. He had obviously gone to trouble; trouble to make sure she had an excellent dinner and a good bottle of wine.

"Jerry doesn't cook."

"Jerry?"

"My boyfriend."

"Ah."

And of course she had had to sleep with the guard. She had hardly expect­ed her own room and of course there had been sex. He hadn't asked nor had he forced himself on her: she had just accepted it as part of the deal. Indeed, as she recalled the next day on the way to work—a shorter journey than usual—it was she who had instigated it, touching him under the bedclothes when he had joined her fresh from his shower. Waking the next morning she had been momentarily lost, wondering if Jerry had turned over a new leaf for someone was actually asking if she wanted an early morning cup of tea. It was, unfortu­nately, the guard not Jerry. Yet, looking back, you could not fault him... as a host. Forcing his attentions on her, forcing her to be his plaything for a month was quite another matter but he had looked after her well. 



An Attachment Is Made Ch. 04



Part 4 — Walking

Naturally that was not the end of it. A month was not up—not for another thir­ty days. He had asked her when she was free again. Sally had tried to say not for a week but he had quizzed her and she had to admit that, whilst she was seeing Jerry later in the weekend, Saturday was actually free. He had suggest­ed a walk in the country. She had thought of simply not turning up and there­by escaping one day of her apparent month as a 'plaything' but, she reasoned, the guard might simply (and with justification) add an extra day on; he might, in any case, be less friendly, less amenable if she crossed him; a walk in the country was not, after all, the worst way to spend a Saturday and so Sally had been content to agree.

Sally expected a pleasant walk, perhaps lunch in a pub (the guard seemed aware of the niceties of social intercourse: if not of sexual intercourse) and sex once, or perhaps twice, in the undergrowth. Her undergrowth she thought rue­fully... still it had the potential to be not a bad day. It was actually quite like that.

The meeting at a particular railway station was by agreement and she found the guard already there and all kitted out with shorts and walking boots. Sally had gone for a dress, hat and sensible shoes. It was a hot day and she was happy to have a dress flowing freely around her rather than trousers or shorts tightly bound. The guard was in a jolly mood and full of compliments; back to his modelling theme of two days before. He had his camera with him and he said he would 'pose her.' Sally could guess what that meant and was resigned to being photographed naked, squeezing her breasts and pouting, climbing a stile with her labia very obviously the focus of the shot from below or lying wanton on the ground with her fingers dancing between her splayed thighs. Possibly, no probably, the guard would also want to take photographs of intercourse or her blowing him. But she was wrong. Instead he had her leaning against a beech tree with the sunlight catching her, walking through a wood holding the hem of her dress, looking up and laughing. All very artistic and well, yes, modelling shots.

"I thought you'd want me naked." The thought came out verbally—she hadn't meant it as an invitation. The guard raised his eyebrows.

"Would you like to be? I thought you looked so pretty in your dress and that was what I wanted to photograph. I could do naked if you like."

They had come out of the wood and reaching the top of the hill where the path followed the ridge for a little way.

"You'd look wonderful just walking along naked, sort of nature's sweet child, all innocence and grace."

"Someone might see." Sally was surprised at herself. She was virtually agreeing to the idea but, well it would be a bit like being back in Greece naked with Jerry. She'd liked the feeling. "I wouldn't want to be seen."

The guard had smiled at her and winked, "I can easily hide you, you know, we could walk hand in hand as naked as the day we were born and be quite safe. I can stop time, pick you up and hide us behind the gorse before anyone coming along realised we were naked. And we haven't seen anyone yet. Shall we be daring?"

Sally noted the 'we.' "Well, oh all right, yes!" She'd looked all around her and then taken off her dress, bra and panties to stand just in her sensible shoes. It had been so different from that first time, only two days before.

"Best take the shoes off too"

So Sally had walked a little way along the path looking out across the countryside from her vantage point on the hill feeling remarkably free of any restriction. She'd stretched and turned to see the guard taking his pho­tographs. Sally had walked back to him. The photos were not bad. She had to admit he took them well and her body did not let her down.

They had then both left their clothes hidden under a bush and with just boots and shoes had indeed walked hand in hand down the main path atop the downs. It was strange at first and Sally kept thinking of what Jerry would think could he see them but after a time she forgot her nakedness and was so en­grossed in conversation that it was only when a couple of hikers got very close did she remember her predicament.

"Oh, we need to hide, we need..."

"A bit late to stop time, they would see us disappear. Just act natural it will be all right."

And it was, the guard said 'good morning.' She'd said 'lovely day to be out,' and then blushed at what she'd said, and the two young male hikers had mumbled a greeting in return with their wide eyes staring at Sally as they went past.

"Well, that was all right wasn't it? If you turn they'll be looking at your bottom."

Sally had turned and the hikers had stopped and were indeed looking at her. She'd waved making her breasts move and they had waved back.

"There you are, a bit of exhibitionism! Did you like it?"

Well, actually she had. She'd liked being admired and had known the guard would keep her safe.

"Would you have liked it if they had been naked?"

That was another question. Did she like looking at naked men? She thought back to Jerry naked by the pool and glanced at the guard naked beside her. "Suppose so."

"And erect?"

Sally had looked hard at the guard, "Unlikely to see a couple of male walk­ers sauntering along like that. The erections wouldn't last."

"I wonder if seeing you had a rising effect upon them?"

Sally had laughed. It was a funny thought the effect a sexy woman could have on men: the thought in their heads and up came the willy!

"Must be a problem in nudist camps. Women are a bit less obvious. How long can men stay erect."

"Hours, suitably stimulated."

"Like now!"

The effect of their talk on the guard was visible. His cock had bounced up to a stubby erection.

"I expect they would have had rather more to show."

"But not as thick — far better than long and spindly, believe me." Sally had appreciated the guard was sensitive but realistic about his small cock. She reached and stroked. "It's nice, honestly. Let's see if I can keep it hard as we walk but please we must hide next time—certainly with you like that!"

They had walked on, Sally holding and stroking the guard's cock, no longer hand in hand but hand on cock. She was surprised at herself at how pleasant she was finding walking naked and to be walking fondling a man's cock was, certainly different. She thought back to the two hikers and imagined holding their cocks, one in each hand. Would she want to make them shoot as they walked along in the sunshine or take her in turns in the undergrowth? Yes her undergrowth!

Further on, they saw more people coming towards them but it was an easy matter to nip behind a gorse bush and lie in the sunshine until they were gone. It was very pleasant there just lying on the grass and looking at the view whilst the people walked by. Sally had opened her legs and felt the sun's rays directly on her sex, a good feeling and it had made her feel more interested in sex than she had at all expected to feel on the walk—which had been nil.

The sound of voices passed and Sally took hold of the guard's cock once more easing it up to erectness. She had watched her hand as she gently pulled the foreskin to and fro over the large head. "I suppose," she said wistfully, "that you could have made those hikers naked for me?"

"Yes," he had said, "and erect if you'd liked. But what would you have done with them?" He'd glanced down. "One in each hand?"

"I do like playing with them." She'd given his cock a particular tickle to show what she meant. "Penises I mean, not that I've ever played with more than one at once you know." Sally was surprised how easily she found herself revealing intimate thoughts to the guard, thoughts she would not have spoken (of course) to her girl friends or even, perhaps, Jerry. "I like to watch them come, see them spurt but the trouble with that is they are then no use to me. Hard in me is best!"

Sally leant over and took the guard's stubby cock in her mouth and sucked gently on it, her tongue occasionally aiding in the massage with a slow stroke. After a little while she unbent and lay back on the grass still watching as her hand played with the now wet penis.

"Sally," said the guard, "your choice is approaching. Either you let go quite soon or you'll find me coming all over your hand. Would you like that, should we do something different or just walk on?"

Once again Sally noticed the guard was not forcing himself on her but let­ting her choose, within of course the bounds that she had not chosen this rela­tionship at all. She'd let go of his cock and had lain there feeling the sun be­tween her still open legs, conscious the wetness had come.

"I think I'd like," she'd said turning over and getting up on all fours, "as we are outside, after all, to be fucked like a ewe or a sow or a cow for that mat­ter!"

"Nice udders," he'd said and he'd pushed himself up onto his knees and pretended to milk her breasts pulling on the nipples as if working a milk cow's udder. "You can almost hear the sound of the milk splashing into the pail."

Sally had liked that, gentle humour in the sunshine; sunshine falling warm on her naked skin, on her upturned bottom; the guard's penis was close to her face and she bent a little and sucked on it as he continued to pull at her nipples.

"Sally," he'd warned, "whilst your breasts are not really producing, the same is not going to be the case with my cock if you keep doing that!"

She was half minded to let the guard come and drink him down as she often did with Jerry. It would be nice in the sunshine drawing out the semen as her breasts were squeezed. But equally it would be nice to be fucked. She let go and kept her position waiting to see what the guard did next. He let go of her nipples and went around behind her. Sally waited and nothing happened, the anticipation made her even more anxious for a touch but there was nothing.

"What are you doing?" She'd said.

"Nothing, just resting a little and admiring your bottom."

It was then she felt just the lightest touch of finger tips on the insides of her thighs where her knees were buried in the grass. Their slow progress up the insides of her thighs were torture. She wanted to be touched—there!" Even­tually she felt the fingers at the top of her thighs just touching her outer lips; she could feel them lightly brushing the few hairs she had there. Almost there, almost there!

But no, the fingers were withdrawn. What was the guard doing? Sally looked under herself, past her hanging breasts with their standing nipples and to her sex and there, approaching, was the guard, his cock moving in ready to touch. The anticipation electric as she saw, before she felt, its tip touch her wet­ness and slip in. Sally had a perfect view of herself being fucked, could see the shiny head pushing into herself and disappearing, see the shaft sliding on her wetness and watch the balls swinging. Supporting herself on one hand she let the other touch her clit. The feeling was strong; she was going to come soon and hard.

All of a moment there were voices nearby. The guard stopped moving and they both listened. The voices were coming closer and closer; Sally was mo­mentarily worried she, no they, were going to be caught in such an embarrass­ing pose with the guard kneeling between her open legs lying across her back as they very obviously fucking in the manner of the beasts. Worse still they could suddenly have come across the guard and her, caught at the very mo­ment of her coming; she trying to hide her nakedness as the shuddering climax coursed through her and, worse, what if the guard was coming as well, pulling away from her with his cock shooting semen into the air to the shock of the on­lookers?

But there was a bit of a blur and Sally found herself in a different place, on a different patch of grass.

"Sorry about that," said the guard, "people looking for a picnic spot. Why they had to look where we were... never mind, had to move us, now where were we?" The guard had lost his erection but it started rising as he spoke. "Given me a bit of time to recover — I shouldn't come so quickly now."

To Sally there had been hardly an interruption but, there again, she hadn't had to carry her inert body from their previous place of concealment to a new one and was very happy to carry on. The penis slid back into her sheath and Sally carried on watching as it slid easily in her liquid, feeling the push of the guard's thighs against her bottom. Once again she was building towards her orgasm, closing her eyes as she came, animal like on all fours, covered by the guard. The guard had not missed a stroke at her climax and simply carried on. Sally watched as the thrusts suddenly became faster, more urgent and then slow and firm as she felt a squirting inside her. The guard slowed and stopped; Sally stayed in her position watching under herself, noting the penis losing its firmness, sagging a little and then sliding out backward to hang wet and limp as a trickle of creamy semen left her vagina to drip onto the grass. "Sex really is messy," she thought, and how much more so if she had had those two hikers to contend with as well!

It was pleasant walking back naked hand in hand along the path in the af­terglow of sex, enjoying the sunshine and chatting. Whether the picnickers saw them she did not know, there were few people about and they only hid from some. Whether a young couple they passed noticed that she had semen trickling down her right inner thigh Sally, again, did not know but by the amused glances and the hold the pretty girl had on the young man she thought she would not be the only girl on the downs to have such a trickling feeling that day. And why not? It was such a lovely, sunny and hot day -- just right for frolicking in the undergrowth.

Retrieving their clothes they walked on to lunch in a pub, more walking in the afternoon and, Sally was not surprised to find, more intercourse in the late afternoon sunshine.



An Attachment Is Made Ch. 05



Part 5 -- Feather

"See you on the train then; and for Wednesday evening?" The guard had asked at the end of the long hot Saturday.

It did not occur to Sally to say 'no.' What could she do if she had wanted to say 'no' and, actually, it had been a very good day. She was his plaything now, she knew that, but it was not as she had expected.

Sally only just had time for a quick shower and change before she met Jerry. The evening went quite well but, she had to admit, Jerry was a bit boring to start with; going on and on about his work. Sally again thought about whether she really wanted to go out with him for much longer. Well, she would give him the month. Of course Jerry wanted sex. For Sally it would be the third act of the day but she could hardly use that as an excuse with him not to have sex!

Jerry did like his games. One of them, Sally had soon found out when they had started dating, was his penchant for mild bondage—tying and being tied. As he had said, "what else are bedposts for?" She, for her part, had not been adverse; experimentation and fun came well within her orbit. Back at his flat, after a really good meal out at the local 'Indian,' it was quickly obvious it was a night for knots. The green silk scarf on the table by the door gave it away.

Jerry had been fun enough in the Indian really, though she could have done with rather less about what he had done that week at work and what good deals he had pulled off. Still he had not seemed to notice anything odd about her such as having been cheating on him twice that day, been out walk­ing the Downs with another man and being virtually contractually bound to be another man's plaything for a month. That was until he had commented she looked as if she had been in the sun all day.

"I had my hat," she'd blurted and then realised she would have to qualify that because she hadn't had it on all the time, though that was mostly when she had had nothing on at all, which was not something she wanted to explain, and in any case the mention of the hat did mean she had been out of doors and that would necessitate some sort of explanation.

"I went for a walk," she said as she thought desperately whether to de­scribe her real walk (alone of course) or make up some story about walking in the park which might, if Jerry questioned, have to get more and more made up.

"Suits you," he'd said and moved on to reminisce about their Greek holi­day and how tanned she had got, "all over." he had added. "But I don't sup­pose you were renewing that... or were you?"

They had laughed but she had not had to answer that question because Jerry went off at a tangent about the football game the next day and that too had saved her lying. Relieved, yes: but slightly put out that he had not actually taken much interest in what she had been doing. He had been much more inter­ested in what he had been doing. Typical male, she had thought.

Inside Jerry's flat they had kissed. Perhaps Sally was a little less enthusias­tically than usual though that may have been because she felt guilty about the day on the Downs... and the sex. Sally had felt his hands on hers, had felt him drawing them behind her, had felt the silk on her wrists and by the time they had broken their kiss her wrists were securely fastened together by the green silk scarf. It was a game she had played before.

It was not that she was exactly helpless but she was certainly now subject to Jerry's whim — within reason! There was not too much resistance she could actually make with her hands tied behind her back. She knew he liked to un­dress her and she was fairly sure it would end with her spread-eagled on the bed, one limb to each post. She was not disappointed.

This was what she liked about Jerry, his sense of fun, joking as he tried to take her clothes off one by one despite what was actually an impediment in having her hands tied behind her back. There really was no way he was going to get her bra off like that and he got in such a muddle that they ended up rolling around on the bed just laughing. He did, indeed, spread-eagle her but face down so she couldn't easily see what he was up to. He made her wait, just lying there in anticipation; what was he doing? Presumably undressing but what was he planning on doing next? The blindfold came and then it was the feather; that damn feather of his that he knew so well how to use, how to tickle excruciatingly on her most sensitive areas; those erogenous zones. But he built up to that and, of course, all parts of the body are ticklish and so there was plenty he could do before she felt the feather on her bottom. It had surprised her when he had first done it; how sensitive her anus was, how remarkably dev­astating was the feel of that feather lightly stroking just there, with nothing she could do to stop it. Oh yes, she could clench her buttocks a bit but she was spread-eagled and sooner or later she had to release and the tickling would start again.

The feather began on her back, so gentle, so excruciatingly light in its touch but so powerfully registered by her nerve endings. He took his time on her back, on her arms, on her legs before the feather wisped over her bottom and found her little back hole. The intense feeling had her running; she could feel the wetness seeping from her. Would it really be possible to come just from the tickling of that damn feather on her bottom hole?

She was moaning by the time he turned her over and retied her with four green scarves, one to each corner of the bed, with her limbs stretched out and her sex exposed. She had been hoping he would take her from behind, fuck her as she lay face down on the bed but that had not really been likely; he hadn't yet played the feather on her nipples and she knew he liked to tease her that way, liked to watch her squirm, liked to hear her pleading for him to stop and, please, please, just to fuck her. She rather thought he liked to stand over her with that lovely big prick of his rigid and proud, feeling dominant and in con­trol (which he certainly was!). The feather came wisping up her tummy to the undersides of her breasts, it was almost unbearable, yet she loved how wet he made her doing this. She knew he would take a long time on the smooth skin of her breasts, circling around but not quite touching the nipples, getting her al­most to screaming point before the feather would brush across the hardness of her nipples. The mixture of sensation and anticipation was something else.

Jerry was kneeling over her as he played, she could tell that, one knee ei­ther side of a thigh but not touching, no she could not feel the touch of his bare flesh at all just the insistent wisp of the feather on her breasts. She was always surprised at how long he kept the feather work up, he would be 'up' as well and she would have expected him to want some attention on his cock by now, perhaps a leaning forward to bring his big mauve head within reach of her tongue—she stuck it out a little as a hint. She'd love to suck it now, feel it soft/hard in her mouth. How many times had she thought that? What a woman needs are two men at a time, one to use his cock in the wet hole 'down there' and the other for the woman to play with in her hands and mouth, the lovely smooth head and dangly vulnerable balls—super!

The feather crept up her thighs and she knew it was going to happen; she was going to come without Jerry's cock touching her; without anything touch­ing her but that feather; she was close enough that when he played it across her clit she would simply explode; if he kept going that was because, she knew, there was no guarantee; Jerry might just stop and leave her hanging; go for a beer from the 'fridge, walking about his place naked and with that big erec­tion. Of course he'd be back but she would have to lie there waiting and in such intense frustration. Would he pause, would he leave her on the brink?

Sally felt a surge of relief as the feather brushed against the top of her thighs and then her sex; Jerry was not going to go for a beer, he was going to carry on. The feather played gently around her lips, Sally could feel its every movement and then there it was wisping back and forth over the little raised knob of her clitoris, her own little standing erection. And wasn't the feeling in­tense? To and fro went the feather bringing her closer and closer to climax. In her mind she recalled doing the same to Jerry, he tied down and the very same feather tickling his cock, she just lying there looking at it and playing but she'd gone too far and hadn't realised until it suddenly bobbed up and down under the feather and began shooting streams of his cum onto his stomach. It had been both erotic and frustrating at the same time. Lovely to see his big penis shooting its load but annoying for her that it would not be useable within her for a time. Yet another reason for having two men in the bedroom... not that she had ever done that.

The image of Jerry's spurting penis stayed as the feather took her over the edge; Sally writhing on the bed, unable to see as the orgasm built and she came—wonderfully — as the now excruciating tickling went on and on, right on her clit. The image of the fountaining penis in her mind.

"Stop, oh please stop," she cried but he didn't for quite a time. Jerry really was quite cruel.

She knew when he did stop the feather it was, of course, going to be to fuck her and at his own pace. She could not deny him that, he had after all just spent a great deal of time pleasuring her to orgasm, though there was no ques­tion he hadn't enjoyed doing that.

The tickling ceased and for a moment there was silence and then, sur­prise, surprise, Jerry was on the bed straddled over her and she could feel his penis on her lips, just touching. She knew what was wanted, just a light licking with her tongue, not sucking, just licking. Jerry would like that, being able to watch her tongue on his cock, when she could not, a bit like his own private porno film.

Sally flicked out her tongue and began to lick, exaggerated little tongue movements which would look so erotic to Jerry as he stared, she knew he would be staring, at his penis on her lips and at her darting tongue.

Jerry liked that and let her lick for a long time, he had her tied down, just there to do his bidding and what man would not like having his penis head licked like an ice-cream cone? In control, able to lift away if the sensation got too much, no risk of coming too soon though it would not be the first time Jerry had come on her face: great gobs of cum all over her, making a real mess, in her hair, almost up her nose and dripping into her open mouth. Really rather more fun for him than her.

"Let me drink you," she'd said but that was not his idea.

Sally felt the penis moving, sliding over her tongue, sliding up by the side of her nose, letting her lick lower, her tongue moving down the shaft until she felt dangling over her mouth his balls. The hanging sack waiting to be licked and sucked.

What an odd thing sex was—to be sure—what did she look like? What did Jerry look like? There they were on the bed, she tied up and Jerry kneeling over her head and she licking his hanging scrotum, particularly the right ball which she could feel was hanging lowest! What would a visitor from Mars make of that?

She could feel he was moving his own cock, wanking whilst she played with his hanging scrotum..

Sally licked and sucked on Jerry's balls, one by one in her mouth, not so much balls as little eggs which she could move around with her tongue in their sack in her mouth. The vulnerability of men and here she was with Jerry's in her mouth. Stupid, silly but fun things: such a contrast to the firmness of the erection above. With her tongue she pushed the hanging scrotum from side to side. Her tongue was starting to get tired.

"Come on, let me suck you off, I'm thirsty for you." It was said in her most winsome voice and the penis once more slid over her tongue until she felt the smooth skin of the head. A light push and the round head slid past her lips to­wards her throat. Sally sucked, enjoying the feel of her man in her mouth and again thought of the ridiculousness of their position. To present his penis at the right angle Jerry would be slumped forward with his bottom high in the air, it would look even more ridiculous than before!

The expected ejaculation did not come, instead the penis was withdrawn and Jerry moved down the bed; it was to be intercourse after all. But it was not hurried intercourse. Jerry took his time. A slow penetration, a gradual opening as he eased himself into her—all the way. Sally was always amazed that she could accommodate Jerry's length; how all that thing could disappear, as if by magic, into her body. Not that she disliked the feeling of course!

She was beginning to really enjoy the slippery, sliding action when the penis was withdrawn and she felt her ankles being untied.

What was he doing now?

Sally felt her ankles being lifted and brought upwards, one in each of Jerry's hands until her legs were vertical, and her feet towards the ceiling. With her ankles far apart he could see everything, her sex opened and exposed. Sally felt once more the touch of penis on her vaginal opening and it slipping in. What was Jerry up to? She knew really; typical man, so visual, watching his own penis in the act of intercourse and she blindfolded and unable to see a thing. He slid all the way in and then pulled right out only to do the same again.

"Did you know your hole stays open for a few seconds before closing after I pull out? Fascinating!"

"Can't say I've looked," Sally replied dryly. Really men were so gynaeco­logically obsessed. It was the feeling that counted surely not detailed observa­tion?

"There, I got it in before it closed. Brill."

Ridiculous.

Sally didn't really mind Jerry playing but she was pleased when he finally got on top of her and did it properly. Good traditional missionary sex, well apart from her being tied up and blindfolded of course—that wasn't in the basic 'how to do it' manual. Not actually another orgasm for Sally but good sex nonetheless. An orgasm, of course, for Jerry.

The next day, Sunday, as tended to be the case, began with watching Jerry play­ing football followed by drinks with his friends, lunch and back to his place for a snooze and, more than likely, a ride on his big cock. Sally was not much into football but Jerry was and, usually, she was content to stand with the other women and watch. As tended to happen, Jerry's team lost so the talk in the pub, she knew, would more be about what they did wrong than what they did right and it would be a little boring. She watched as the two teams trooped off to the changing rooms at the end of the match. Were any as big as Jerry? The thought came unbidden into her head; that would be fun to find out. She wouldn't mind watching them in the showers as a casual observer. No, not ca­sual, if she really wanted to see how big they were, more as an official from FIFA — "I've come to check your cock sizes for our database. Don't worry it is a completely painless process; I'll help you get ready; no need to dry, just line up." That was the trouble with football—it made her daydream -- it really was a rather tedious game.

She smiled to herself; obviously, from the evidence of that daydream, she was looking forward to sex with Jerry in the afternoon! Perhaps she'd mention her sudden fantasy to him in bed. He'd like that, particularly her suspicion his cock would beat the rest for size. Jerry liked compliments—he was rather vain, she thought, yes, not one of his best characteristics (unlike his big cock). He had a few she was not so keen on when she thought about it. Was it time to give him the push? 



An Attachment Is Made Ch. 06



Part 6 — Watching

On the guard's wall was a large framed photograph of her, but not a picture like she had ever seen before; it was certainly a picture of her, not the typical portrait shot she was used to but, undoubtedly, a close up of her in orgasm. Her mouth dropped open in astonishment, "How?"

"Oh, I just stopped time whilst you were coming on Thursday, went and got my camera, took the photograph of you, put the camera away, settled you back in position and restarted time. Gave the opportunity for me to rest as well, prevented me coming until you had. I said it would be a wonderful photo­graph. Isn't it just?"

Sally did not know what to say. It was not the sort of photograph you showed your mother or your friends but... well, it was interesting to see what she looked like when... and, well, it was different. The guard was obviously very pleased with it. Yes, it was a good picture, but strange. Should she ask for a copy?

"Well, what have you been doing with yourself since Saturday — apart from travelling on my train that is? Did you have a good time with Jerry? Was it the 'Indian?'

Sally chatted happily about what she had been up to, her feelings about Jerry and her views on football. The guard was rather more interested in foot­ball than she was but certainly not as badly as Jerry and had made some good points. 

"I'm seeing Jerry tomorrow and will be staying at his place."

"And having sex."

"No doubt, Jerry is very demanding."

"I'd like to see that."

"What Jerry and me fucking?"

"Yes."

"See me having sex with another man?"

"Why not? You're not my girlfriend, but a plaything... and a friend."

"Friends don't watch you having sex."

"I am sure some of your friends would."

Sally thought. Would they? She supposed some of the boys might well like that; would like to see her naked, perhaps enjoy seeing her penetrated—either as a good laugh or because it was a turn on, but what of the girls? Would any of them get a vicarious pleasure from watching lovemaking or would it be to see Jerry naked and, inevitably, erect. Yes, Sally could see quite a few of her friends wanting to see him and to touch and moreover be fucked by him. He re­ally was a good catch but... she was going to have to make up her mind. Did she want to stay with him or let him go -- but, then again, perhaps, soon after that, see him out with one of her friends, he wouldn't be alone for long, and know they were fucking, her friend sliding on that penis which was hers—had been hers. Well, she wouldn't want to see that!

"I'll be there," said the guard.

"What! Why? How?"

"Oh, easy! Do you mind?"

Mind! Did she mind having someone watching her with her boyfriend, creeping around the house while she was with Jerry, listening to their intimate conversation? Well, actually, not now a total stranger and someone, in any case, she had been as intimate with as she had been with Jerry—and wasn't she thinking of dumping Jerry anyway? What could she do to stop the guard in any case? Nothing,

"I suppose not."

"Just the ticket."

It was really a very odd feeling going to bed with Jerry in her flat the fol­lowing night knowing she was going to be observed; that another man would be joining them in their bedroom; another man would be watching them and very likely joining in unobserved. How very peculiar indeed. Despite the thought, despite the strangeness, the sex was good with Jerry being into his tying up games again.

Sally did not actually see the guard, he did not make his presence clearly known though that meant nothing and of course she asked him about it when they next met.

"I thought you said you were going to be there, last night."

"Watching you have sex with Jerry?"

"Yes."

"I was there as planned, indeed I had sex with you too."

"What intercourse, whilst I was tied on the bed?"

"Yes, you did look so lovely, I thought you wouldn't mind or actually no­tice!"

"Mind? I... well that explains it. I thought Jerry had filled me rather more than usual. When I stood up it was rather like being a porn-star, it gushed our, spunk I mean, all down my thighs. I think Jerry was rather impressed -- with himself I mean — he certainly smiled."

"It would have done, well it did; after all you'd got three loads in there." The guard spoke very matter of factly.

"Two you mean, you didn't come twice surely?"

"Well, I could have waited and had a second round, sat and drank a beer and read the paper whilst I recovered leaving you all frozen in time. Perhaps I should have, that would have made four! No, you see Jerry had a friend with him."

The colour drained from Sally's face. "What! What do you mean?"

"When I got there, I was a bit surprised to see Jerry letting another bloke in. Made it easy for me even though I had the key you'd lent me. Upstairs you were already lying on the bed pleasantly bound and blindfolded. I have the pic­tures, I hadn't forgotten the camera. That was a revelation to me seeing you like that but I was even more surprised to see the other bloke there as well as Jerry."

"The bastard, I bet that's Tom from the football club. So Jerry showed me naked to him?"

"Yes and after the tickling, I did like that feather by the way, they took it in turns to fuck you."

"Oh did they? Jerry had tied me so my legs were hanging over the side of the bed, I wondered why he did that rather than just get on top of me, I sup­pose it gave them easy access and, I remember, Jerry did keep pulling out and drop me back on the bed only to almost immediately pick me up again and stick his prick back in. The 'prick;' it was Tom half the time I suppose and I didn't notice the change or even two ejaculations"

"Well you were thrashing around a lot at the time! You did seem to be en­joying it."

"Mmm yes that was true enough. You said you had pictures?"

Sally looked open mouthed at the photographs. There she was spread-ea­gled on the bed, blindfolded and tied down. "Don't I look awful?"

"No," replied the guard, "wanton and sexy. It certainly turned me on!"

There was a photo of Jerry between her thighs and then, there, ghastly proof, Tom from the football club stark naked just putting his cock in her, or taking it out, the camera flash had caught the sheen of moisture on his cock so presumably it was coming out or returning for another thrust, another thrust at her whilst she squirmed away on the bed thinking how well Jerry was doing. The final photo was simply awful. Jerry and Tom shaking hands with big guilty grins on their faces and their soft wet spent cocks dangling, whilst in the background there was she, Sally, tied up, exposed, well and truly fucked and oblivious.

"The bastard, I'm going to confront him with these and..." Sally was worked up.

"You can't do that. How will you explain them? A friend of mine who can stop time at will, happened to be in your bedroom and took these photos... it won't work. You cannot show these."

The guard was right of course. Sally couldn't possibly show him, reveal she had a friend with rather unusual powers but she was certainly going to have to dump him now. She now had the perfect excuse, a very right excuse and, really, she had been going to do it anyway; hadn't she? But it was not a reason she could give Jerry because how could she know what he had done with Tom—after the event?

"The bastard. Not cheating on me with another woman but having a man friend fuck me. The bastard. Well I can do what I like now. Let's fuck."

"Don't mind if we do."



An Attachment Is Made Ch. 07



Part 7 -- Swinging

It wasn't just the 'Dear John' E-mail the next day, it wasn't the 'Tom incident' but the fact Jerry had beaten her to it. Sally was incandescent; it was she who had been going to end it: not him. An attachment undone.

Obviously it was another woman; so not only had he had another man fuck her but was already going out with someone else. He had just used her and was now discarding her. Sally was furious. Who was this other woman?

Just an E-mail and that was that. No more seeing Jerry, no more meals out, no more sun-drenched holidays, no more fun sex, no more riding his lovely long dick, no more Jerry... the bastard. The end of a romance but a romance she had been planning to end; end because she was getting bored with him but how dare he get bored with her!

It was not a good few days, it all kept going around and around in Sally's mind. She slept but fitfully (eventually) and looked drawn and haggard at work. Her colleagues left her alone. A difficult choice on their part, do you leave someone to their own private thoughts or ask what is wrong? Sally might have thought Katrina would have said something; not that she really wanted sympathy or talk about it, but she was her closest friend at work: yet she seemed distant.

Was it the fact she'd lost Jerry that had really upset her, given she was probably about to do it to him (but only probably), the Tom incident (probably not) or the fact Jerry had got in first that really got to her?

Perhaps surprisingly it was the guard who came up trumps and lifted her mood. Late night shifts had kept him away for a few days but he had already pencilled in the Saturday. Sally hadn't expected him so early, was not even out of bed when he arrived at her door but the guard was in such an infectiously jolly mood she could not be cross with him for long and to turn up in a blazer like that!

"Thought we'd go to the coast, forecast is for a perfect day, grab some things and we'll be off."

And they were, before the traffic built up, heading out on the open road to the coast under a gloriously blue sky. The sunshine and fresh air lifted Sally like a tonic and the pleasant chatter of the guard kept her amused. It was not simply a day on the beach, the guard had an itinerary all planned, a visit to a castle looking out to sea, coffee and a nose around an historic house and then lunch in a seafood restaurant overlooking a harbour full of boats. It had all been lovely. Somewhat replete the beach did beckon in the afternoon for swim­ming and lazing. Once more the guard had his camera out and Sally found her­self draped over breakwaters and the like as if on a fashion shoot. He did take his photography seriously.

Even the fun of such a glorious day did not keep Sally's mind completely from her breakup.

"And I don't even know who she is."

"Does it matter?"

"Not really but..."

"Shall I find out?"

"Um, yes please."

The day wore on and the sun began sinking low, people were packing up going home to tea, supper or dinner; taking their tired offspring home to be tucked up in bed; the light was changing as the beach emptied; Sally and the guard were walking far down the beach, away from the town; it was warm, quiet, peaceful and empty of people. They walked along until they came to a small playground next to the beach with swings and the like.

"I should like to take your photograph on the swing; you look such a pic­ture in that dress, just so summery." He was so good with the flattery.

Sally hadn't used a swing since she was a little girl but, like riding a bicy­cle, you don't forget and soon she was riding high and laughing, her brown legs flying.

"The light is wonderful, I wonder if you would object if I asked you to be a bit more revealing, I'd like to catch a glimpse of...."

"Oh yes, you want me to take my knickers off?"

"If you don't mind, you see the light is coming just right, a hint of curls could work just right, more suggestive than blatant I'm thinking, will you?"

Sally was amused — why not, it was not exactly his first picture of her in a revealed or erotic pose. She slowed, jumped off the swing on the rise, just as she had when she was ten and, with a quick look around, slipped off her panties before hopping back on the swing. It was slightly funny, pulling her­self back into motion and swinging higher and higher, to know on each for­ward swing she was revealing herself to the guard and his waiting camera. It felt both naughty and nice; she pulled hard as the guard snapped away. Sally felt really happy just swinging away in the warm evening sunshine.

"These are good." The guard was evidently pleased with his photographs. She would see them later.

A couple strolling hand in hand along the Promenade were coming closer; the guard turned, looked and said,

"No problem there, just carry on."

Sally kept swinging and the guard kept going with his camera. The couple wandered up and watched. A pleasant looking couple, red headed girl in sun dress and tall, sandy haired boy in tee shirt and jeans.

There was an, "Oh," from the girl and a, "You get a lovely view from here," from the boy. It was evident they had spotted Sally's nakedness under her dress.

"I haven't swung for years," said the girl, "shall I try?"

The boy was not going to stop her. The girl looked up at Sally, then down at Sally's panties and said, "Is it a requirement to leave these here?"

Sally replied with a laugh, "No, but it helps, frees your legs!"

A pair of thin white panties fluttered down the girl's long legs to the ground to lie beside Sally's discarded pair. The girl got on the swing next to Sally and started off, gradually going higher and higher and not being as care­ful as Sally about keeping her legs closed.

"Ooh doesn't it feel free, you are right and the air rush so cooling and... nice."

Sally was amused, it was obvious the guard had been at his tricks, whis­pering in ears whilst stopping time and she hadn't even noticed him move; his ability to make suggestions and influence people's thoughts and actions was a little creepy but she hadn't seen him be bad, well not really bad, with it. She watched him taking his photographs looking all serious trying to get the best shot, take advantage of the low sun, now photographing the red headed girl as well, no doubt catching the sun making her auburn curls even redder..

The girl was swinging higher than Sally and making a lot more noise about it, she seemed to be having a great time.

"Do you think," she turned to Sally, "it would be even better swinging with nothing on at all."

"Naughty," said Sally, "certainly naughty and what will the boys think?"

"Come on Sam, you're to go swinging too!" She was slowing as she spoke and no sooner than she had stopped she was wriggling out of her dress, slip­ping out of her bra, standing for a moment naked in the park, before hopping back on the swing dressed in nothing more than a pair of sandals and a wrist­watch. "You too, Sam," she said as she started to swing again.

Sally winked conspiratorially at the guard. It was clear to her how much he was enjoying the swing of Sam's friend's boobs as she pulled herself back up to speed, the flow of her long hair and the flash of her curly red hair be­tween her thighs as she moved to and fro.

"Better?" asked Sally.

"So free," said the girl, "come on Sam, and join me."

Sam seemed reluctant but complied. The guard was not alone in admiring bodies, the boy was well built, fine chest, fine limbs, tight little bottom and re­spectable penis amusingly at half mast. Evidently the sight of Sally and the girl had had an effect and presumably accounted in part for his reluctance to swing—naked that is. But he joined them, his long legs easily pulling him up­wards. Sally's glance kept returning to his working body and his penis bounc­ing around as he worked the swing.

Swinging in the sunshine of an evening is a pleasure remembered from childhood but these were grown-ups and thoughts of grown-up pleasures took hold. Of course the guard had a lot to do with it but, in the absence of further evening walkers, the two couples walked away from the playground towards the sea and the golden sand merely carrying their clothes when they weren't wearing them. The evening was warm and the sun still casting a golden glow over the sand. They sat on the sand staring out to sea and then gradually the touching started and before long there was more intimate touching. Sally looked across at the others, finding it strange to be watching another couple having sex, not on the video screen, but right next to her, in the flesh. To watch another woman fellate a man, see the lips close and take hold; it was different and rather companionable in a way she would not have expected. She turned and did the same to the guard; the eyes of the girl and hers met sharing the ex­perience.

Intercourse was unhurried, the motion relaxed and in time with the surf, the endless pull and push of the tide on the shore. Sally relaxed, on her back with the guard above her, lying upon her, lying between her open legs, his short but rather thick cock working her as she simply lay back enjoying the feel of man, sun and sand. A perfect end to a perfect day.

Afterwards they swam. The trouble with sex on the beach, and perhaps half the pleasure, is the warm sand soft beneath you but it does get in the most surprising places; it gets there even when you are just having a day on the beach, let alone when you engage in intercourse. It did need washing away and how better than a dip in the sea, swimming in the (not really warm) English water as the sun settled red gold to the west.

It had been nice to go back to the guard's house that evening, after the drive back, and collapse after the excitement and fun of the day at the coast. It really had been a fabulous and memorable day. Early to bed and Sally had snuggled up against the guard a bit puzzled at her role: was she just a play­thing or a friend?



An Attachment Is Made Ch. 08



Part 8 — Discovery

Another day, another shock.

"Her name's Katrina."

Sally felt an icy chill up her back. "What does she look like?"

"Oh nice, can't deny that, I have a photograph."

"Not of them at it I hope?"

"Well, sort of... yes."

"Let me see." And there they were; her ex boyfriend fucking her friend Kat­rina; it wasn't possible to make any other conclusion from the evidence. The presence of a penis in a vagina does constitute fucking and that is certainly what some of the pictures showed; not all of them, a penis in a mouth is not fucking but it is certainly sex and that was Katrina's mouth, her full lips all lip­sticked around the very penis Sally had been so used to sucking.

Sally was, once again, incandescent. Not only had Jerry dumped her but her close friend had actually had the gall to have stolen him before she had even had the chance to dump him! Who was she more cross with—Jerry or Kat­rina ... or herself for not dumping him sooner?

"I want revenge."

There was a sigh from the guard, "It happens all the time; it's not easy but couples come together and break up; it's life. Not easy but, it happens."

"But to go with my friend."

"Again, not exactly the unusual occurrence. Better than your sister."

"I haven't got... yeah, I see what you mean."

But it was not over, not a bit of it and Sally spent a long time going over and over the same ground before saying, "Even so I want to cause upset. Will you help?"

"How?"

"Coitus interruptus. I want to spoil their sex. The ghost of girlfriends past."

"I don't normally like to attract attention to my powers."

"You have with me."

"Rather different; a closely targeted attention."

"Please, you might find it fun."

"Quite possibly."

And so they found themselves sitting in a car near Jerry's house.

"Shall I go and see if anything is happening?"

"Yes, here's the key."

"Well, we seem to have timed it right, they are on the bed."

To Sally it didn't seem as if the guard had moved but clearly he had stopped time, gone over and come back from Jerry's house. It was uncanny — in­deed exactly so.

"Get me in; into his en-suite and we can see what to do then."

"We'll walk up to the door and then I'll carry you."

Once again Sally felt the peculiarity of time stopping, one moment stand­ing outside the front door, then the dislocation of standing in Jerry's bath­room. Through the slightly opened door she could see the new couple. It took will power not to storm out and harangue them. They would certainly have been at a disadvantage. Firstly there would be surprise, secondly being naked puts you at a disadvantage and thirdly Jerry was all tied up and blindfolded. Tied up and blindfolded? Sally bit her lip, that wasn't the sort of game played by new lovers. How long had this relationship been going on? Had she been taken for a fool? Had they been laughing at her behind her back or hadn't Kat­rina known about her... but she did.

Katrina was playing with the feather, that feather, playing around Jerry's nipples and down his chest.

"Naughty boy, you've been very naughty. I told you to get rid of her and found you hadn't. It's denial for bad boys. Twitch away all you want but you're going to have to wait until I'm ready: I'm not touching your cock now but I'll want it standing ready for me when I come back 'cos I want a good fuck­ing. I'm going to grab a beer downstairs and catch the News and then I'll be back so you'll have to wait."

Sally caught her breath as her naked 'friend' sauntered past the door and down the stairs. Downstairs there was the sound of the 'fridge door opening and the TV being switched on. In the bedroom, on the bed, lay Jerry tied up and blindfolded with his cock standing up in the air. Sally smiled at the guard, opened the bathroom door and picked up the feather. She looked down at Jerry and frowned and lightly touched the feather to his balls. His penis jumped.

"Katrina, you're back!"

Sally flicked the feather back across his balls a few times before moving slowly up the shaft, she glanced at the guard, who was watching with amused interest, and motioned for him to undo his fly. The feather moved up the long shaft over the snaking veins and along the ridge to the sensitive fraenum and there it lingered. Sally knew Jerry liked that. She paused and turned to the guard, and reached for his own stubby cock and with a wink took that into her mouth and sucked.

Returning to Jerry the feather moved on, round and round the head mak­ing Jerry squirm the more as the tip teased his urethral opening. Again Sally paused and sucked on the guard. She smiled up at him, winked and lifted Jerry's cock. Carefully she wet her lips in what she hoped was a really lascivi­ous manner, her intention to give her friend, the guard, a really good sexy show of her cock sucking, careful to angle her head so he could see all.

"Drink me," he said. That really annoyed her. That was what Jerry said to her not the supposed Katrina.

Her tongue licked up the shaft, her mouth sucked on a ball (rather harder than she had done in previous sessions, she hardly minded hurting him now), before beginning the serious mouth and tongue work. She knew what Jerry liked, what would bring him to orgasm, even rather roughly. It did not take long.

"Kat, careful! I'm almost there — you'll have me coming."

Sally lifted her head and reached for the feather, she glanced at the guard and winked and began tickling his fraenum once again, tickling his most sensi­tive spot, tickling him beyond restraint.

"No, I mean it, you'll make me... oh, Kat!"

It was too late for Jerry, the straining erect cock twitched and a string of semen came from its end.

"Naughty boy," said Sally removing the feather.

"Sally???" as a second spurt flew.

She squeezed his balls hard.

"Aaaah!" Pain, pleasure and confusion mixed as Jerry's cock continued to spurt and he writhed against the bonds.

Sally turned to the guard and taking his cock in hand she stroked it she kissed him on the mouth. Downstairs there was the sound of movement sug­gesting a return of Katrina. Sally and the guard made a hurried return to the bathroom and watched naked Katrina come into the room.

"Jerry are you OK, what was... oh you naughty, stupid boy. I wanted that. How did you?"

"Sally..."

"I'm not fucking Sally... how did you come on your own?"

"No I... but you did it..."

"No I fucking didn't, I was downstairs... just look at that wasted mess."

It was a giggle. The guard and Sally looked at each other but contained their laughter. Off stage laughter would have spooked Jerry and Katrina rather too much and Sally was not ready for that—yet. She signed that they should go and found herself standing outside the house. They walked down the path.

"Thank you, that was sweet, coitus interruptus indeed, and it put the wind up Jerry. Spoilt Katrina's evening, serves her right, and Jerry too. Thank you, indeed how can I thank you, I'll do anything you want tonight or did you fuck Katrina whilst you were there?"

"No, didn't even touch her actually. I'd quite like to be sucked though, like you did Jerry."

"We could do that now in the car and then fuck properly back at your place."

"Tempting, very tempting!"

"Can we do the same another night? With Jerry and that woman I mean?"

So another night followed, another night waiting in the car near Jerry's place. Sally could not believe her luck when the guard reported Jerry tied up again, it fitted her plans.

Again the feeling of strangeness as one moment she was outside the house, the next in the en-suite bathroom looking into Jerry's well remembered bedroom; Sally smiled, there was Jerry spread-eagled on his back on the bed once more and blindfolded. He did not need to see: but Katrina did.

The feather was not in evidence, Katrina was on the bed with him, using her tongue moving it slowly over Jerry's body, she was toying with his nipples at that moment, her head lowered but her bottom raised towards the watchers, the view left nothing to the imagination, Katrina's sex was very clearly visible, pink and wrinkled and probably rather wet. Sally felt behind her for the guard's penis and felt it already hard through his coat. Clearly he liked what he was seeing and was happily anticipating what Sally had asked him to do. Sally began to unbutton her coat.

Katrina's tongue made a wet snail's trail down Jerry's chest, by-passing the long cock, with its exposed and shiny head, and made for the wrinkled scro­tum. Sally pursed her lips, she used to like to suck them, feel the funny egg shapes in her mouth beneath the skin, how careful she had been not to squeeze. She thought differently now.

Carefully Sally let her coat slip to the floor. Beneath it she was already naked, behind her she felt the material of the guard's coat opening and he pressed his naked skin against her, his stubby penis hard against her bottom. Reaching between her legs she pulled the penis horizontal and between her thighs; in that position it was not quite long enough to enter, she would have to bend forward to permit that, but it was good to feel it thick and hard there as she watched Katrina's lips play on her ex-boyfriend's cock. The 'bastard' did have a lovely cock and even whilst hating Jerry could not but lust for it and take pleasure in watching it standing and being licked by her 'friend.' Licking or sucking, though, was as far as Katrina was going to get if she had her way; it was not Katrina who was going to fuck that penis.

There was a sliding between her thighs, the guard was moving just a little, and she pushed back. It was nice.

Katrina's tongue was working up the shaft, taking her time. Sally had to give Katrina her due, she was not being selfish, she was doing her very best to please Jerry; Sally knew he liked it long and slow. Katrina took the shaft in hand and began to circle her tongue, teasing round and round the neck before she finally deigned to touch the head, giving little flicks of her tongue before a full wet tongue massage and finally slipping the whole thing into her mouth, her lips wide, round and clasped around the shaft as her head bobbed up and down.

Between Sally's legs the guard's penis continued to slide.

"Are you ready, Jerry dear, because I am—and don't you dare come too soon this time." Katrina was moving, turning to straddle Jerry, facing towards his head, a knee either side of his hips, leaving her sex open and ready to de­scend onto the waiting cock. She lifted the penis to the vertical, aiming it. "I want to feel a cock hard within me, I want to be spread and fucked."

And just as Katrina lowered herself Sally whispered to the guard, "and so you shall."

One moment Sally was in the en-suite with the guard's stubby cock slid­ing between her legs and the next she was on the bed just as Katrina had been, indeed had completely taken her place, was straddling Jerry as she had done so many times before and in her hand Jerry's lovely penis. There was a muf­fled sound behind her and she turned to look. There was Katrina but not now dominant above Jerry, far from it, she was securely bound at the end of the bed, arms stretched out and gagged. Sally raised herself and turned herself right around to face Katrina so she could see her properly, see her bulging eyes and straining limbs. A wide and triumphant smile came to Sally's face as she let herself down, let herself down onto Jerry's cock in full view of Katrina, flaunting that it was her sex that was enveloping Katrina's new boyfriend's cock: not Katrina. The bed began to shake as Katrina pulled at her bonds and Sally, in turn, began to bounce up and down on Jerry to hide the movement, make it seem to him that the shaking was a result of their intercourse. There was a sudden stillness from Katrina as she felt the guard behind her, felt the touch of his skin on her bottom and then the nosing of his stubby penis seek­ing her entrance. Katrina's eyes widened even more, a clear indication to Sally that the guard had found his goal and had penetrated. Katrina had got what she wanted, a hard cock within her, a fatter but shorter one than she had been anticipating but a cock nonetheless and there was nothing she could do about it. Sally nodded companionably to the guard and continued to smile at help­less Katrina. Beneath her Jerry was oblivious to all but the wonderful wet heat and smooth sliding of a vagina on his penis.

"That's fantastic Kat."

There was a muffled something from Katrina, "Mmmm," said Sally.

It was good to feel the remembered cock inside her. It was probably this she most liked about Jerry. No, that was unfair, it had been more than lust but... she looked down the bed at Katrina, well she was welcome to him now. But the sex was good!

Jerry bucked and began to come, Sally felt the first shot of the ejaculation within her and lifted herself off and slipped back onto his tummy allowing the penis to slide out and ejaculate freely into the air, the creamy strands rising to touch her breasts and pour onto and down her tummy, running into the mat­ted wetness of her pubic hair. At the foot of the bed, wide eyed and staring, bound so she could not move, Katrina watched the pumping penis.

Slowly Sally lifted herself and came down the bed, knees stepping over Jerry's splayed legs, closer and closer to Katrina saying not a word but with a look of triumph on her face, a wry smile. Slowly she pressed the warmth and wetness of her bush against Katrina's face smearing the running semen across her nose and mouth gag, forcing Katrina to inhale the scent of Sally's aroused sex, a sex aroused by fucking her boyfriend's cock and taking its semen, it was an act of animalistic dominance. Sally could feel Katrina's breathing, the move­ment of air in her curls.

The still embedded guard pushed again at Katrina forcing her face into Sally's pubes. Sally looked into his eyes and he nodded, grimaced and clearly began to come. Sally retreated up the bed, her movements hiding from Jerry the tell tale rocking of the bed from the guard thrusting at Katrina. She settled herself back on Jerry's cock, looked straight into Katrina's bulging eyes and waved, 'bye.

The screaming was a bonus. Sally was back in the bathroom, the guard holding her from behind and through the partly open doorway there was the now unbound Katrina astride Jerry, sitting on his cock, no doubt leaking the guard's semen onto it, and letting rip. Beneath her Jerry could have no idea what was happening, why she was screaming and no way, until he was re­leased, of finding out. It was perfect.

The noise stopped, Katrina was shaking like a leaf.

"What, what, what..." from Jerry.

"Sally, she... she's here... no, a nightmare, no I was awake... where is she... and him?"

"Kat what is it?"

Katrina was off the bed, wide eyed and staring, and heading purposefully for the en-suite, hand wiping at her face, probably going to search the whole house.

It was time to go and, indeed Sally found she had gone, was outside the house back in her coat. They hurried away down the road before Katrina looked outside. Mission accomplished.

"And where has this been, I wonder?" Sally's fingers stroked the guard's limp penis later that evening, it stirred and began to grow, lifting itself up in the air, the rolled wrinkled skin sliding and the smooth head with its little eye made an appearance. "Where did you hide yourself this evening? Have you been going in places you shouldn't?" She was talking to the cock, not the guard, a little fascinated by it having been in Katrina, had been fucking Katri­na less than an hour before, had been punishing Katrina for stealing her boyfriend, showing her who Jerry really belonged to; marking her territory so to speak. Sally sniffed; she could smell the other woman. What else should be done to Katrina and Jerry?

"I wonder," said Sally, "what to do next. that'll have really upset Katrina. They won't be playing tying up games again for a long, long time. More's the pity in a way as it makes it so much easier."

"There's Tom too, you know."

"Oh yes, I'd hardly forgotten. What shall we do then? Arrange Jerry and Tom in a compromising position and photograph them or get Katrina to find them like that."

"Complicated, Sally, complicated. What sort of compromising position? Katrina walks in as Jerry is happily sucking away on Tom's cock? That'll take some arranging. It would need a time when all three are in the same place and I'm there—and you too, I presume to see. Complicated. Then I've got to get them to take their clothes off whilst Katrina is out of the room and do a good deal of persuasion out of time. Far too complicated Sally!"

"It'd be much more amusing if Katrina finds Jerry fucking Tom in the arse."

"Sally really!"

"Not possible?"

"No!"

"I suppose it's not really Katrina's fault—except they did start before Jerry and I were finished but was it he or she who started it? Who is to blame?"

"Mutual attraction perhaps?" said the guard. "Fault does not really come into it does it?"

"I was going to dump him anyway."

"She saved you the bother then! You should thank her, be nice to her! Why don't you just leave it?"

"But he's just walked out on me into her arms."

"Not quite, you've got the wrong order."

"Even so, no discomfort for him whatsoever—typical."

"Some people are lucky that way."

The guard was reasonable, placatory, but then he always was; he did not seem to get cross or upset, just took things as they were and seemed prepared to see the best in people.

"Tom's at fault though."

"So what are you going to do there? Put him over your knee and spank him? He'd probably enjoy that!"

"I'd rather give Katrina a good spanking—silly bitch."

"Funnily enough, so would I!"

"Hmmm. It'd be best to have her well punished like a naughty schoolgirl of the past, bent over in the headmaster or mistresses study and given six of the best."

Sally went back to stroking the guard, feeling his stubby cock hard in her hand. "You like that image don't you, pleated dark blue skirt tucked up, panties round her ankles, white round dimpled bottom exposed to your gaze, perhaps the hint of young downy hair showing, your cane touching her thighs, requiring her to be bent over with just a bit of an opening to those white thighs for you to better glimpse the down?"

"Nice, Sally nice. I hadn't thought to ask you to dress up, but I might now. What did you wear at school?"

"I meant Katrina not me but, perhaps, if you like I think I've my old tie around somewhere. Long white socks or would you prefer stockings? But could you make Katrina submit to that, hate it but not be able to challenge or tell? I could have a dinner party, invite you and some men friends around and you have Katrina serve us in a sexy schoolgirl outfit, all the while inviting to be punished; building up to saying she knows she should be spanked; winding the men up until I say they can touch her, telling them she really does like to be punished. I'd like that, seeing the real look in her eyes as they play the game, choose whether to bend her over a chair or a knee, decide on the instrument of chastisement, choose who pulls the panties down; and then the pleading from Katrina, pretend pleading but, in reality, what she really means. Something like, 'please don't put your big things in me and make me all messy,' or 'please don't punish my bottom hole,' or 'do I have to suck you off now sir, like in my last school, to thank you?'"

Sally grinned at the guard as she slowly wanked him. It was evident he liked what she was saying, her fantasy talk.

"So a big orgy at the end, all your male friends fucking, or whatever, Katri­na. Would that be before or after coffee!"

"Oh before, I envisage her serving coffee all fucked up, all messed up with the boys cream running down her thighs. Time for your camera I should have thought and then to send her home like that with just a coat on , knowing what she has done and how she has been punished but not able to tell anyone. Imag­ine her face at the office when I saw her next!"




An Attachment Is Made Ch. 08



"Oh good — so we do get coffee."

"And second helpings if you boys are up to it! But not you: I should want fucking later!"

"And what about Jerry and Tom? You can hardly do the same with them — wouldn't they enjoy it if you did? Exposing themselves and being spanked by your sexy girl friends and then being fucked in turn by them — hardly pun­ishment I should think!"

"Hmmm, possibly. I suppose there could be no fucking, no sucking just punishment and the frustration of being kept erect for hours without coming. Yes that's it, dressed just in bow ties and my girlfriends keep fondling them but not bringing them off, caning until they are raw but never letting them come. I am right, aren't I, not coming makes your balls hurt after a time?"

"I can't see that happening, one of you will do one stroke too many and, even so, it all sounds quite an erotic experience for Jerry and Tom; and what if one of your friends gets carried away, does want to suck or indeed fuck. You'll certainly be giving those boys a night to remember!"

"But could you make them, make Katrina act the slut, make Jerry and Tom act as hen night rents?"

"Yes, possibly but I still say let it go, much as I like the schoolgirl idea."

Sally looked down at the penis in her hand, "What do you want me to do with this then? I can still smell her you know."

"Well, how about that for a turnaround, Jerry comes in and finds you and Katrina in bed, faces buried between each others' legs, each face scented by the other. I'd like to take some pictures first!"

"No, no, not me and anyway Jerry'd probably like that, want to join in; want us to lick, suck and kiss his cock together."

"Would you do it if you knew he'd really hate it?

"But he wouldn't, I know."

"It still seems to me, really, only Jerry and Tom are at fault here. Jerry for fucking you whilst he was seeing Katrina and allowing Tom... and Tom for al­lowing himself. Really you have nothing against Katrina so if you want to pun­ish her you should be punished too. So perhaps I should make you fuck her, make you do it even though you don't want to. Be an experience for you both and I shall enjoy watching and practising my camera angles."

"Not so easy punishing Jerry and Tom then?"

"I think you were after making the 'punishment fit the crime' and, no, that does not seem so easy. I'd forget it if I was you, after all you did say you want­ed to dump Jerry. Forget him."

Should she just leave it be then?

The guard's hands moved to her breasts. It was going to be intercourse, Sally's hand left his cock and she kissed him; a bit of fucking before sleep did feel a good idea.

Sally looked up from her desk as Katrina came into the office. How should she play it? She had been thinking about that; should she completely ignore her, act the hard done by jilted girlfriend or make it very obvious the impossible was true and she had indeed been in Jerry's bedroom fucking him only a cou­ple of days before—in place of her?

"Is there something wrong, Katrina?" It was another girl.

"No, no nothing at all." There was a quick shot of the eyes at Sally and Sally couldn't resist a smile back. Now what would Katrina think of that? Did it matter? Not really; she was done with that; done with Jerry and done with thoughts of punishment. She was over that.

The month too was over, a month in which rather a lot had happened to Sally; she was free of Jerry and that had been her intention—really and there was no need to see the guard anymore—apart from on the train on occasion -- and she was free of him too. She did not think he would do other than keep to his word; that would not be in his nature. She was a free woman, able now to look ahead and decide what she wanted to do and with whom. The month had actually come and gone quite quickly and had not been anything like as bad, or even like, what Sally had expected.

"Any more tickets, please?"

Sally was on her train, making her usual way to work. The guard was com­ing down the carriage.

"Hallo," she'd said, "doing anything tonight?"

"Nothing special," he'd said.

"Fancy going out for dinner?"

"Just the ticket," he'd replied.

An attachment had been made.