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Stone and the Gangster's Girls

By: geronimo_appleby



OK, quite a lengthy one with a little mix I hope you enjoy. Stone is a bodyguard -- ex-military who heads a small team responsible for close protection of Dave Devine. Dave Devine is a gangster, a king of the underworld with a wife and daughter who are both very sexy and very kinky.

I did think about submitting the chapters individually, but opted instead to lump all 25000 words together in one hit (no pun intended ... gangster ... hit ... geddit?) *ahem* Right, well, yes, I decided to put the piece up in Novels and Novellas, just for the grin.

As I said, I hope you enjoy it. As usual I ask for feedback. PM, email or public comments, whatever your choice. If you want a response back from me, then email is best.

Again -- as usual -- there are very likely to be errors and typos in the text. I've been over the piece a few times but the little buggers still manage to get past me. Please forgive any fuck-ups, and I hope any that remain don't detract too much from the whole.

GA -- Langkawi, Malaysia -- 16th of December 2012.

One -- The Divine Amy

*

The divine Amy, as Tommo had christened her, a play on her real name of Amy Devine, strolled nonchalantly into the gym just as the boys and I finished a gruelling round of circuits. She knew damn well I didn't want her there, but that was Amy all over, a spoilt rich girl who just had to break rules.

Ralph, the team's physical training instructor wound up the post-torture cool down-session. "OK, Stone?" he said.

"Thanks," Ralph, I replied, keeping Amy within the limits of my peripheral vision. "Good session, you evil bastard," I added, knowing Ralph would take the remark as a compliment.

He grinned. "It's 'cause you're getting old and past it, Stone. Let's face it, when you first joined up a Centurion was a rank, not a tank."

The banter could have gone on but I was keen to get the boys into the showers and away from the distraction of Amy. We may have all served in the military at one time, the common denominator that qualified us to work for Amy's father as his close protection team, and even though I was their immediate boss, the discipline within our team wasn't as rigid as it would have been if we were still serving in Her Majesty's Armed Forces. Out in the civilian sector, in the niche we now occupied, the lads didn't have the Damoclean sword of military law hanging over their heads, and as professional as they might be, each of them had a mind and a strong will of his own, which meant that sometimes they could be a handful. And Amy might prove too much of a temptation to resist. 

That could lead to a drama, a big fucking problem for the bloke who dallied with Dave Devine's daughter.

"Yeah, yeah, Ralph," I said, holding up a hand to stem any more cheek from the PTI. "Enough of the bollocks. We've got a lot to do today, so let's get on with it, eh."

The years of professionalism kicked in immediately as the whole team, including Ralph the PTI, responded with respectful mumbles of, "OK, Boss," and "No worries, Stone." They recognised where the line was as far as taking the piss went.

The lads, tee-shirts stained dark with sweat after the vicious workout overseen by Ralph, virtually bounced out of the gymnasium, all pumped up on a high after their exertions. I noticed a couple of sideways glances at Amy as the boys moved past her. And didn't she just play up to them too, the saucy little bitch.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath. If I didn't keep a close eye on the team that girl would most assuredly lead to a problem for me. Not that I knew it at the time of course, but the girl was going to cause me anxiety sooner than I anticipated.

Just like her mother.

"Hello, Stone," the nineteen-year-old murmured, and I saw the devilment of her flash in her green eyes as their unsettling gaze fixed upon me. Amy wore that disconcerting smirk she appeared to reserve just for me -- the one that lifted the corners of her pretty mouth in a way that suggested she knew a secret, something dirty and sordid, about me.

"Amy," I responded gruffly, probably a touch more gravel in my tone than necessary, but I found it embarrassing to be so ... intimidated by a girl less than half my age. During my career in the British army -- first Airborne, then Special Forces -- I'd faced some demanding circumstances. Even now, as head of security for Dave Devine, probably the most dangerous gangster in the country, a Face with connection throughout the European underworld, nothing phased me like this girl's frank appraisal. "You know you're not supposed to come in here when we're training."

The cheeky mare just shrugged and gave an impatient flick at her long black hair with her fingers. "I like watching you, Stone," she said. "I like to see you all hot and sweaty."

I found myself uncharacteristically lost for words. The blokes, I could handle, I knew what made them tick and I understood their thought processes. The men in the team were easy to control, we had respect for each other and knew we could rely on one another when we got involved in any shit, but Amy was a wildcard, I couldn't handle her -- and she knew it. I was also more used to women my own age, women who'd been around a bit and who knew the score. It disconcerted me that Amy, as young as she was, came over all confident and aware of her own sex appeal as a woman twice her age. I'd been married once, briefly, to a woman who'd run off with a pub landlord in Hereford, and I could understand my erstwhile spouse's reasons for buggering off -- the months I'd be away, the demands of the job -- but I couldn't figure this girl out at all.

My face reddened as I gaped at Amy for a few seconds. Then, finally finding both my wits and my voice, I responded with, "You still shouldn't be in here. It puts the lads off. They're difficult enough to handle as it is without you giving them ideas." I pointedly looked at Amy's tight tee-shirt and miniscule, buttock-hugging shorts. "Especially dressed like that," I added, wincing internally at the stuffy tone of my voice.

"I'm not interested in 'the lads'," Amy informed me. "I came in to see you, Stone." The girl craned her neck, her chin on her chest as she pretended to critically examine the front of her own body. She looked up at me again, that damned smirk twitching. "And what's the matter with the way I'm dressed? Don't you like it?"

The thing is, I did like it. Which man wouldn't? Amy's a slim girl with high, tight tits, all rounded and compressed inside her tee-shirt. Her arse is a nicely defined bubble-butt, which at that time was packed into a pair of brief shorts, shorts so tight that the pronounced VW Beetle's bonnet outline of her pudendum was clearly visible. All this physical appeal, coupled with the dark promise of carnal delight in her knowing eyes and impish prettiness, made my cock stir with interest. But she was Dave Devine's daughter, and I was already on thin ice.

"Whether I like it or not is neither here nor there, Amy, I've got a job to do, one that your dad pays me a good salary for, and I don't want you ..." I pointed a finger at her chest in emphasis "... distracting the blokes. Get it? I don't want you in here anymore."

"My dad owns this gym," the girl replied petulantly, pouting like the spoilt bitch she was. I actually expected her to stamp a princess foot in indignation. "So if I want to come in here, Stone, I fucking well will," Amy finished as her eyes flashed green venom.

Granted, Dave Devine did own everything in the complex, the gym, the office block, the cars, but it didn't give Amy the right to stroll over from the big house behind the wall whenever she felt like it.

"But the gym is for me and the boys during working hours," I reminded the stroppy cow. "That means I'm the boss right now." Amy had started to rile me by then and my swelling anger displaced my anxiety at her proximity.

Then, before I realised it, the girl altered completely. The bubbling ire I'd seen in her eyes evaporated, leaving her suddenly apologetic and contrite. Her eyes even glistened with tears.

"I'm sorry, Stone," she mumbled. "I just ... like you a lot. You look after my dad; you're in charge of those men. They look up to you, do whatever you tell them to, and," she continued with ego-massaging, wide-eyed candour, "I know you've all been soldiers, real soldiers who've done some really brave things ..." Amy sighed and stared at me with those big eyes. I swear her chest heaved with emotion, an action which caused her tight boobs to swell in that clinging tee-shirt.

"It was a job, Amy. We were trained well and behaved like professionals. We had good people supporting us," I added, downplaying all that Rambo or Andy-fucking-McNab bollocks. "That's all. And now I work for your dad. It's just the same. We train well and do the job efficiently. There's no mystique attached."

"But, Stone ..." Amy breathed.

The way she spoke those two words to me was so sexy, all vulnerable and big-eyed and contrite. I almost ... almost that is, reached for her. I recognised that Amy's contrition was an act, and that for me to touch her would be a mistake. If I let myself get drawn in it would only lead down one road. Playing with a gorgeous, perfectly ripe nineteen-year-old was tempting, but I enough problems at that time as it was. There was a lot of work stuff going on and ... well, another issue involving Amy's mother, so I didn't need to add to my list of woes by encouraging the boss's daughter.

I wanted to bring Amy down gently, let her know how it stood between us, but I also wanted it done in a way that wouldn't have her running to her father with some cock-and-bull story about me.

"But, Stone," Amy persisted all breathless and wide-eyed. She obviously thought I'd fall for the act. "You must be so brave to face the danger like that?"

I shrugged, still downplaying the soldier bit. "It's mostly boring, Amy. Especially now, working for your dad. We're more a deterrent to anyone who might want to ... hurt your father. Hopefully our reputation dissuades anyone from trying anything stupid." 

"How come you joined the army?" Amy asked. "You and Daddy were friends on the estate when you were kids, weren't you? Why didn't you go into business like my father?"

It was true; I'd grown up on the same shitty estate as Dave Devine. We'd mucked around together as boys until Dave had taken up with the Griffin brothers, the three lunatics who controlled the drugs that flowed onto the estate. I'd always had my eye on an out from the concrete eyesore of the high-rise blocks, and so had Dave, but whereas Dave embraced the potential riches available from the criminal underworld, I strolled in the recruiting office and got out of that no-hopers' den of misery by way of a rail warrant from Waterloo to Aldershot.

By the time I was on my third tour in Northern Ireland, trudging around Belfast in the pissing rain, with the single chevron on my arm of a Lance Corporal, Dave had removed the Griffin brothers and set himself up as king dick of the estate. From there he reached out and took over the rest of the manor before making his big move to control the whole of the smoke. When I'd been on the ground with the laser, guiding smart bombs dropped by Tornado fighter aircraft onto targets in Saddam's empire, Dave counted his personal fortune in millions of pounds sterling.

"I joined up to escape the shitty estate, Amy. That was my way out. Your dad ... well, he got out of there his own way, but I couldn't have hacked the jail time," I quipped.

"But my father's never been to prison," the girl put in. "He might have bent a few laws when he first started out, but he's past all that now. Now he's a businessman."

I could have laughed. Bent a few laws? Understatement of the century, a bit like saying Adolf Hitler was a bit of a naughty boy. But what Amy had said had a ring of truth to it, Dave Devine could justify his lavish lifestyle and personal fortune to the tax man purely from his legitimate business interests -- in fact, he paid me and the boys from a clean source of funds. I'd insisted, for I really couldn't do the time in stir, it'd drive me insane being banged up in prison. However, despite appearing to be Mr Clean these days, Dave still ruled the seedier businesses: the girls, the clubs, the coke, the dodgy DVDs. Nobody could blag so much as a packet of chewing gum without express permission from Dave Devine, and if anyone so much as hinted that they had an eye on his business, they just disappeared, with perhaps a limbless and headless corpse showing up in the Thames estuary on occasion.

I already lived on the edge thanks to Amy's mother, so the girl, as gorgeous as she was, was most definitely a no-no. A complication I most certainly didn't need.

"I don't get involved in your father's business, Amy. I'm just the bodyguard -- me and the lads -- hired help." That was a true statement as well. The boys and I have nothing to do with Dave Devine's violent world. When, as it's alleged, he offs the opposition, he uses thugs of his own ilk. The lads and myself are capable of a killing, but we do it under rules of engagement -- which are pretty much that if anyone tries to harm Dave, or by extension, his family, then my team will fuck them up -- rather than torture some poor bastard before crushing them in the boot of some old wreck of a car in a scrap yard. I looked up at the big clock on the wall and said, "I've got to get on, Amy. There's a pile of paperwork on my desk for the Kenya job. I don't have time today ... So if you'll excuse me I have to shower and get on with my job."

I left the girl pouting and with her arms folded beneath her cute tits. I must have wasted fifteen minutes chatting pointlessly to the recalcitrant girl because by the time I got to the showers the boys had all gone. I took off my training shoes and peeled off my socks before I stripped out of my shorts and tee-shirt.

Under the shower I contemplated the complications already present in my life, especially the one huge problem uppermost in my mind, an issue so large that it kept me awake with worry at night. I also pondered on the issue of Amy. Why did she keep making a play for me? I'm old enough to be her father, for fuck's sake, what did she see in me? OK, granted, I've kept myself in shape. I'm no hulking lump of muscle, but what there is of me is tightly packed from endless sessions under the guidance of PTI Ralph. Physical fitness is a must in both my former and present occupations, and as the boss I can't let myself slide, I always have to set the example.

I tutted to myself, bemused by the Devine women.

But then, as I should have foreseen, Amy, tanned and delectable, with her high, tight tits and smooth vulva, wearing nothing but her trademark knowing smirk, appeared like a wraith out of the steam.

My cock thickened instantly at the sight of her.

"Amy," I croaked, my throat suddenly dry. "You've got to get out of here. If anyone comes in ..."

"My father never pays me any attention, Stone," The girl said as the shower spray hissed against the tiles. She took a few steps towards me.

I should have left immediately, just walked out of there and run to my office, but all I could do was stare at that girl as she slowly eased closer and closer.

"I love my father, Stone," Amy murmured, her voice barely audible above the rush of water. "But he doesn't care about me." She was close by then, so close my uplifted cock almost nudged her flat stomach.

"Uh," I grunted, eyes fastened on the glittering jewel in the girl's navel.

"I'd like it if you cared about me, Stone. I'd like it if you could be my daddy." Amy's intense stare brought my eyes from her belly button to hers. "You could be a really good daddy, Stone. You'd look after me and protect me, wouldn't you? I'd love it if you'd hold me tight and tell me everything was going to be all right. That nothing bad would ever happen to me because you'd look after me. Would you do that, Stone? Would you look after me?"

I swallowed heavily as desire for this perfect example of feminine beauty swelled my erection. My cock pulsed, stiff as iron with lust for Amy.

And then I gasped, knowing I was lost as Amy's fingers curled around my shaft.

"Will you be my daddy, Stone?"

My answer was a deep growl as my fingers gripped Amy's narrow waist. I pulled to me and kissed her mouth while her fingers caressed the length of me.

"Oh, Daddy," Amy gasped when, eventually, after a full minute of our tongues sliding and writhing the kiss broke. You do like me, don't you?" She squeezed my hard-on for emphasis. "You kissed me as though you like me, and your lovely cock is so hard ..." Amy grinned, her attitude coquettish. "I think your big dick likes me a lot," she simpered.

"Shit, Amy," I groaned. "You're so beautiful. So hot." I was lost in the heat of it. I wanted her to wank my cock until it spat hot, sticky fluid from the eye in its tip. I wanted to slide my tongue into her pink cunt and slurp at her essence. In my head I saw us, her on her hands and knees on the tiles, the water cascading over us as I knelt behind her and fucked into that tight body. Images appeared in my fantasy stream of Amy, her cheek bulging and distorted as she sucked the dome of my cock, her eyes wide and staring as she looked up at me with her long black hair plastered across her forehead and over her shoulders.

"So you've noticed me at last, Daddy. Can I be your princess? Will you look after me?"

"Yes," I grimaced. "Anything you want, Amy. You're my princess. I'll be your daddy." Ah, the things we men say when the blood rushes from the big head to the little one. Right then, with her fist moving up and down the length of me, I would have promised the girl anything. The urgency boiled within me. I had to come, I had to have that release or I'd explode.

Which, in a way, is what did happen; the semen burst out of me, squirts of viscous gloop that spattered against Amy's stomach, breasts and forearm. The girl, as I gasped and grunted and grimaced, kept on pumping at me until my cock finally oozed residual goo.

"Oh, Daddy," Amy squealed when the torrent of spunk eased. Water sluiced the stuff from Amy's body as, with our mouths locked in a hot kiss, I mauled at her little breasts and she fondled my undiminished cock. "Fuck me now, Daddy," the girl mewled, her voice breaking with excitement and desperation. "Put in into me and fuck me."

Amy turned and rested a forearm against the tiled wall. She thrust her hips back and offered me her rump. With her free hand, Amy splayed the cheeks of her heart-shaped arse and smirked back at me over one tanned shoulder.

I groaned at the sight of her. "Sweet fucking Jesus," I blasphemed when I saw the cerise core of her as the pressure of her fingers pulled her labia apart with sticky reluctance.

"I'm hot and wet, Daddy," Amy sighed, winking at me. "My pussy itches," she pouted. "Put that big cock inside me, Daddy. Fuck that nasty itch away."

I was on her in a second, guiding myself into her with one hand on my shaft while I squeezed one of her taut buttocks with the other.

Amy's head lolled forward as I slid into her. "Oh, fuck," I heard her mutter. "Oh yes. Oh fuck. That's so hard." The girl pressed both palms onto the wall and craned her neck to regard me with a glazed-eyed look of pure lust. She chewed on her bottom lip and mewled as she thrust her hips back at me. "Fast, Daddy," she squealed, her hips corkscrewing as she wriggled around knock-kneed on my dick. 'I'm so horny, Daddy. I'm going to come soon. I've been naughty today. I was playing with my pussy before I came to see you. I'm a bad girl, Daddy. Your little princess is so wicked." Amy grunted and screwed her eyes closed. She gasped and winced and looked away from me. I gripped her hips and, as she wanted me to, slammed into her hard and fast. 


Stone and the Gangster's Girls



This was no tender lovemaking, this was an all out assault on that girl's tender body. What really got me raging, though, was the filth that poured out of her mouth. The face of an angel and the vocabulary of a docker, that was my first experience of my princess.

"I put things in my pussy and imagine it's your big cock, Daddy," Amy gasped. "I'll show you. When you come to my room to kiss me goodnight, I'll show you how I fuck my little cunt with a big rubber cock."

"Oh, Jesus," I blasphemed again. "You're a bad girl."

"I am, Daddy," Amy squealed. She pushed herself onto me, her buttocks shivering under the force of my stabbing lunges and her backward thrusts. Our bodies slap-slapped together, water squelching and farting between us as the shower continued to rain down on us. "I'm a wicked, naughty girl who thinks about nasty stuff all the time. You should punish me, Daddy. You should make me sorry."

"I'm going to come again," I groaned, unable to take any more of this exquisite torture. "Amy, I'm ..."

"Take me there with you, Daddy!" Amy cried. I felt something nudge the root of my cock as I fucked the lovely girl with hard, urgent thrusts. Craning my neck I leaned over Amy's slender back and saw she had an arm beneath her body. I realised the girl's fingers had bumped my cock while she rubbed at her clitoris just as the surge overwhelmed my senses.

"I'm coming," I grunted.

"Me too," Amy gasped as her body began to twitch. "It feels so fucking good. Oh, yes! I'm fucking coming." Amy reached back and grabbed one of my wrists. "My tits," she grunted. "Squeeze my tits while I come."

Her nipples felt like pebbles in my palms as I squeezed the pliant, softly yielding fruit of Amy's breasts. I massaged her and jabbed my cock into her body as we climaxed together, until, with my cock smeared with our combined greasy fluids, Amy pushed me away from her body and I slid out of her.

Panting with effort and the effects of her orgasm, Amy swivelled her torso and encircled me with an arm. "Kiss me, Daddy," she managed as she fought for air. "Kiss your princess."

Then, abruptly, following another long kiss, Amy left me stunned, with my cock shrivelling as the water sluiced the evidence of yet another of my transgressions against Dave Devine down the drain.

"Don't forget, Daddy," Amy said with a waggle of her fingers as she calmly walked away from me. "I expect a goodnight kiss tonight."

"Oh, shit," I sighed when the enormity of my situation hit me. "Amy and Julie," I muttered.

I'd done it again! I'd compounded the error of dicking the boss's wife by fucking his daughter.

Two -- Drinking Gin with Julie Devine

How did I manage to get myself into this? A mother and daughter on the go might be the stuff of any red-blooded male's dreams, but the two I was fucking were both loony tunes in their own right, as well as being the wife and daughter of an even bigger lunatic -- the danger to life and limb that was the gangster boss, Dave Devine.

Despite the number of times I'd been in shitty situations in my days in the army, Belfast with the danger of snipers and bombs or Iraq's western desert, this was probably as close to death as I'd been. I shudder to think what Dave would do to me if he found out. It wouldn't be pleasant I imagine.

Amy's seduction, if that's the right way to describe it, in the shower meant I'd compromised myself. She had power over me now, and as sexy and gorgeous as she was, drinking from the cup of Amy was a poisoned chalice. I suspected the girl was as barking mad as her mother, with the crux of her issues being, as with Julie, Dave Devine himself.

OK, her calling me daddy turns me on, I'll admit it. There's something so wrong with it that it gives me a kinky, illicit thrill, the taboo I suppose, but with my own homespun psychology I put her little penchant for applying that appellation to me as something missing from her own life. She'd admitted to me as much in the shower -- her father never pays her any attention.

With Julie, so she told me, it's the same story. According to her, the night she seduced me, Dave courted her and wooed her, but once they'd married and she fell for a belly full of arms and legs with Amy, Dave never touched her again.

I should have known better than to accede to Julie's request to visit her that night three months before. Dave was over in Amsterdam on business. Tommo, my second-in-command, was with him, along with two more of the lads. I'd wanted to give Tommo, a bright bloke with a professional outlook from the same background as myself, a chance to run things without my eye on him all the time. Amsterdam seemed a good opportunity. And so with a light load for a change I enjoyed a little down time in the UK. I'd planned to tidy up a few loose ends in the business and then head over to Wales, to the Beacons, where I could have a leisurely time refreshing my map reading skills while enjoying the view. Familiar enough territory since, for a part of my life, those undulations were like a second home. It would be great to stretch my legs and lungs without sixty pound plus of bergan rucksack on my back -- If it wasn't raining, of course.

With two days until my planned jaunt, I'd been in my office when my mobile rang. It was the work phone, the one that only a few people had the number to, and I was surprised to hear Julie Devine on the other end of the device.

"Stone," she said, "could you do something for me?" The tremor in her voice alerted me to the fact that there was something wrong with Mrs Devine. I'd find out, when it was too late of course, that Julie Devine was a nymphomaniac alcoholic ... OK, the nympho part is a bit of an exaggeration, but our Julie does like cock, the alcoholic part is about right though. Not that it's obvious, Julie's veneer never cracks, but once you suss it all the signs are there. 

Anyway, at that time I didn't know Julie well at all. We hardly ever met, and when we did rarely spoke. I remembered Julie from the old days, just; I'd been vaguely aware of her at school, but had little to do with her back then. I'd met her again just after I'd started working for Dave of course, and she'd mentioned that she recalled me from the old days, but we hadn't grown close at all. We weren't friends.

"If I can help, Mrs Devine," I said -- Oh, the benefit of hindsight! If only I'd known then what I know now.

"I wonder, Stone, uh ... that is, I'd like to talk to you. It's a bit personal and I hate to ask you, but I'm almost at my wits end." She paused for a few seconds, inhaling deeply, and I realised that she'd probably just sparked up a cigarette. Julie sounded troubled, her voice had trembled and she'd stuttered a couple of times, so I waited for Julie to spit it out, whatever the problem was. "Yuh ... you're the only one that knew Dave when we were kids. I just wondered if you could come over to the house tonight, say about nine? I really need to talk to somebody about Dave. Somebody who knows him."

My first instinct, and upon reflection it was right on the money, was to refuse. Popping round to visit the boss's wife, mission of mercy or not, didn't seem to be the wisest move in the world. Especially since it involved Dave and a problem of some kind. What goes on between a married couple should remain private, between them, not for the likes of me to get involved in. There are counsellors and other nosey fuckers around for that, professionals with degrees and qualifications. What use would I be? I'd failed as a husband myself. I had no clue about any marital issues that Julie might be facing.

I should have politely refused and hung up.

But I didn't.

Julie Devine, like me, like her husband, is forty years of age, and she looks incredible on it. A good-looking woman, petite in stature, she's got great legs that look even better when she wears heels -- which is all the time, sometimes even in bed, especially in bed, as I'd come to know. Julie wears her hair short and shaggy. It's blonde, dyed of course, with the fringe all feathered above those disconcerting green eyes, the same eyes she passed on to her daughter, Amy. She's had a little work done, nothing too extreme, not like those plastic-faced gargoyles I see on telly sometimes, but she's had her boobs done twice if the rumour mill is to be believed. As it happens, having assessed the cosmetic surgeon's work at close range and at length, I can say that Julie's tits are a first rate job, the work of an artist. Julie, despite her proclivity for gin, is a gym nut, often giving herself a good beasting before Ralph, the team physical training instructor -- or sadistic cunt if I can describe him that way -- puts me and the lads through our paces.

In short, Julie Devine is fucking sexy. And I can see where Amy gets her looks and sex appeal from.

"Please, Stone," Julie asked, her voice warbling. She must have sensed my reluctance, repeating the plea, even sniffing back tears. "Please, Stone. I just want to talk about Dave. There's something wrong and ... I ... I just need to talk about the old days with someone who knew him then."

So, there I was, outside Dave's house, or palace as it seemed to me. What a huge place. All for just three people! This gaff was a long, long way -- to the moon and back -- from the pokey shithole on the fifteenth floor of a grey tower block that Dave had once called home. Even the drive leading up to the roundabout -- I kid you not, complete with a turning circle at the end of the drive -- is as long as some city streets.

I parked the Range Rover and walked to the front door. The sight that greeted me when Julie opened it had my eyes on stalks.

For a lady in distress, Mrs Devine certainly looked good. But then I remembered that Julie was legendary for her immaculate turnout, never a hair out of place. I've since seen her less than perfect, hair mussed up, make-up smudged and smeared, and with her pretty face dripping with semen, but that night Julie had certainly scrubbed up well.

"I'm so glad you could come, Stone," Julie said as she stepped back and gestured for me to enter.

She didn't look like she had a care in the world, and her voice showed absolutely no trace of her earlier, tremulous emotion. She would have been halfway down the neck of the gin bottle by then, I know that now, but at that time I didn't know about Julie's drinking.

"You sounded upset, Mrs Devine," I said.

"Oh, come on, Stone," Julie chuckled. "We were in the same year at school. Call me Julie. In private anyway."

I got a hint of sly seductiveness in her expression as she uttered those words. My antennae twitched. There was something not right about this whole situation.

"Where's Amy?" I asked in the hope that if her daughter was present, or at least in the house, somewhere in one of the umpteen rooms. I would feel a lot more comfortable with someone else there. Not like I was there up to no good, it wasn't as though I had designs on the boss's wife.

A lead pill dropped into the pit of my stomach when Julie replied. "Oh, Amy's out with one of her friends," she said with a vague wave of a hand. "She's hardly ever here. She'll probably not even be home until tomorrow ... or the next day." Julie shrugged. "So it'll be just us, Stone," she breathed.

Julie led me along a high-ceilinged hallway. As she walked towards the door at the far end of the long corridor, I couldn't help but admire her tight backside swinging inside a Royal blue dress. The dress clung to her curves, and I'd already clocked her vertiginous cleavage as I'd walked past her into the house. The gown, with its bootlace straps over her tanned shoulders, supported Julie's artistically sculpted tits in a way that defied Newtonian theory, and I couldn't help but ogle the smooth flanks of Julie's boobs as my eyes flicked down to that deep crevice.

"Drink?" Julie asked. "A finger of gin for each of us?" she added as she poured the stuff into two heavy tumblers. I estimated Julie's measures were the width of the Pilsbury Dough Man's fingers when I almost choked on the first sip. And was there any tonic in there, or had she just wafted the tonic bottle top around the rim of the glass?

I sat my arse into a plush armchair at Julie's invitation while the woman herself settled onto a sofa opposite me and sipped her drink.

"I suppose you're wondering why I asked you to come over, Stone?" 

I nodded, for the thought had crossed my mind. 

"It's a delicate subject," Julie continued. "It's to do with me and Dave." 

Julie, in spite of all the trappings of Dave's vast wealth, both legitimate and hooky, still carried the roots of her upbringing in her speech. There was an element of refinement in her diction, but, and maybe it's because it was me there with her, perhaps she felt she could let her guard down a little, I could still hear the East End in her speech.

I sipped my own gin and winced. Fucking hell but it was strong. 

"Why don' you tell me about it, Julie?" I asked.

"In a little while," Julie said. And there was that vulpine expression again. I squirmed in my seat, the sense of something amiss deepening. I got the distinct impression that Julie had a hidden agenda. However, because she was the boss's wife, and because she'd sounded so concerned on the phone, and because I was too polite to make an excuse and leave, it all happened. "Why don't we catch up a little, Stone? Tell me a little bit about some of your adventures. Please, I'd like to hear about your army days. 

So forty minutes and another two gins later and I'd given Julie a condensed run-down on a few memorable highlights of my career. As usual I played it down, made it sound like the reality that soldiering can be -- freezing cold, roasting hot or piss wet through, with lots of hurry up and wait; frantic activity of preparation, all urgency and orders before, often inexplicably, a long period of sitting on your arse waiting to go and wondering what the fuck the flap had been for in the first place.

I'd hit a nice buzz due to the Soviet strength industrial gin that Julie had siped into my veins, and I'd like to blame all of what followed on the alcohol, but of course the booze, as Julie no doubt intended, had merely outflanked my inhibitions. If I'd truly, in my heart of hearts, wanted nothing to do with the sex she offered, then I'd have left her alone in the big house. But the booze didn't help me, putting me in that rosy place where it seems such a great idea at the time.

"It's Dave," Julie said after my final anecdote and another refill. I swear her bottom lip wobbled, the sly bitch. "He ... he hasn't touched me since just after we married."

I remember thinking, Oh, shit, and that this wasn't the kind of thing I wanted to hear.

But Julie continued before my gin-soaked brain could tell my mouth to form an excuse to get the hell out of there. "Uh ... I ..." I gurgled.

"I don't know why, Stone. I don't think I'm unattractive. Even now, although I'm no spring chicken, I do my best. But he hasn't really bothered with me for nineteen years. And I just wondered, Stone ..." She turned those eyes on me then. "... I wondered if you knew of anything from the old days that might explain it."

I knew about the visits Dave made. There were times when he'd slip out from under the protective net that our team provided. He'd set up a 'decoy Dave' as he called it. One of the lads sitting in the back of the car dressed in his clothes and wearing a wig to give the appearance that it was Dave with his distinctive dark curls in the car moving about town while the real Dave went off in a standard black cab. Of course, these little disappearing acts were something I'd only known about since I began working for the man. If Dave was playing away from home, what did I care? But, while that might explain a more conventional mid-life crisis, it didn't gel with Julie's claims that Dave had ignored the marital bed for a goodly chunk of his life. Almost all his married life in fact.

So I kept quiet about the decoy Dave and what not and just shrugged my shoulders. "Sorry, Julie," I said, noticing I slurred a little slur on the sibilant. I pulled a face that suggested ignorance. "I can't think of a thing. Nothing."

Julie sighed and swigged heavily. "I'll just get another bottle," she said when she discovered we'd apparently exhausted the previous one. "You'll stay for another drink, won't you Stone?"

Julie left the room when I nodded. I'd need a cab back to my flat because there was no way I could drive back into town in the state I was in.

When she returned, bottle in hand, all I could do was stare in utter disbelief.

"Fucking hell ..." I managed to gasp eventually.

"I don't understand it, Stone," Julie said with a grin. "I mean, why won't Dave touch me? What's there not to like?"

I shook my head, my eyes locked on the sight of Julie, holding the gin bottle carelessly at its neck, naked except for a garter belt and black stockings and her trademark heels.

"Fancy a long drink and nice little fuck, Stone" Julie asked.

It's easy to sit in judgement and tell me what an idiot I've been. Looking back myself I can see the set-up and how big a fool I was to fall for it. The great military commander caught out by a skinful of gin and a naked woman. When I thought about the idiocy, the sheer bloody lunacy at what I'd done, and the potential for a stern lesson from Dave, I went cold, but the fact is I did it, I allowed myself to be drawn in. There's just something about the Devine women, both Julie, and latterly, Amy, that attracts me.

Back then, three months ago, right at the start, Julie's green eyes teased me as she flaunted that incredible body at me. She posed provocatively, hip cocked as she thrust her sex towards me. I looked at her breasts and the promise between her legs, savoured the shape of her, all sweeping curves and taut flesh. Her thighs tensed as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other, the movement making her breasts sway. That was the straw that broke the camel's back.

"Forget the drink, Julie," I growled. "I've had enough." Nodding at her boobs, I added, "But I haven't started on you yet."

"Oh, Stone," Julie sighed. She turned and gave me my first glimpse of her tight buttocks in the flesh. Hip-swaying away from me, the swing of her hips exaggerated because of the heels, she placed the gin bottle onto an ornately carved sideboard before turning to face me again. Julie slowly walked to me, her sly grin fixed in place. This was a woman who knew how to squeeze a man's cock by the way she moved and a smouldering look alone, and by the time she got within touching distance my erection was already huge and throbbing. "I'm so neglected, Stone," Julie murmured. "He never touches me. And all I want is to be desired." Julie reached for my hand and placed the flat of my palm against the springy muscle of her stomach. "You want me, don't you? I think you do. I can see it in your face. I make you hot, Stone, don't I?"

"Julie," I croaked, my throat dry. I unzipped my jeans, deciding to show Julie how much I wanted her.

"Take your clothes off, Stone," Julie said quietly, her attention focussed on the length of stiff gristle jutting from my flies. "I want to suck you. Let me taste your big cock before you fuck me with it."

As I scrabbled out of my jeans and hurriedly unbuttoned my shirt, shoes and socks already kicked across the room, Julie settled onto a huge sofa, sitting in an almost demure pose with her legs crossed. Her positioning, all very probably contrived, accentuated the pleasing taper of her legs. Julie sat in a three-quarter pose, her flank exposed to me in a way that showed off the sweep of her waist as it flared into her hip. The profile of her bottom against the seat cushion, the taut and tanned tension of her thigh, the stockings and shoes, not to mention the rack of Julie's ribs and the rounded overhang of her breasts all combined to swell my ardour.




Stone and the Gangster's Girls



"Fuck," I gasped, taking all of her in. "You're put together well, Julie."

A laugh tinkled from the woman as her eyes glistened and she studied my penis. "You're not bad either, Stone," she said with a nod of her head. "Kept yourself fit ... And, soldier boy," she added, "that's a nice weapon you've got there." Julie uncrossed her legs and leaned towards me. "Come here." She reached for me as I moved a step towards her. "Nice and thick," Julie commented approvingly after her fingers closed around my girth. "That should fill me up nicely."

I groaned and pushed my fingers through the short crop of blonde hair when Julie licked the cock-head with her pink and glistening tongue. "Shit, Julie," I gasped when her lips engulfed me.

The woman held my cock with one hand, massaging it while sucking for a few seconds. Then, with a gasp from her, my erection popped from Julie's mouth with a slick plop. She pumped me with her fist, grinning up at me, her lipstick already smudged as she widened her thighs and used her free hand to stroke her vulva.

"Do you like me sucking your cock, Stone?" Julie asked.

"Fuck yes," I managed to grunt. Her hand was really working me up. If she kept up this intensity I'd be squirting her with the hot stuff right between the eyes.

"I love sucking dick," the woman murmured. 

I had a brief moment of clarity, during which I thought about Dave's apparent lack of interest in his wife's abundant physical charms. Whose cock had Julie been sucking in order for her to qualify that statement? I know now that it wasn't cock in the singular that Julie enjoyed, more a stable of studs that she used to satisfy her voracious carnal appetite, but back on that first night I didn't give it much thought. I hadn't had much time to think, not with the speed and momentum of Julie's attack. Up until then I'd assumed Julie to be the faithful wife. After all, she was Dave Devine's missis, who in their right mind would entertain the notion of dipping his wick into her? To get caught with one's cock embedded inside the gorgeous Mrs Devine would surely lead to the aforementioned appendage being removed, very probably being stuffed into one's own mouth into the bargain.

But there I was, the idiot about to perform that very transgression; once the woman had finished slobbering all over my erection that is.

"I love sucking dick and having my pussy licked, Stone." Julie rose to her feet. Keeping me firmly in hand, she stroked the length of me. "I love being fucked, Stone. Sometimes I want it rough and hard, and sometimes I want to be loved." Julie pressed her mouth to mine and we kissed. "Tonight I'm in a dirty mood, Stone. I'm in the mood for rough sex. I've been so hot and wet all day. I've been anticipating this moment since this morning. I wanted you to come and see me, Stone. I wanted you here so I could seduce you and suck your cock and get you to lick my cunt." Julie kissed me again after the obscenity popped from between her lips. When the kiss broke, following a full minute of tongue-swirling, gasping intensity, Julie let go of my penis and collapsed onto the sofa. She pulled her legs up and spread herself to my gaze. Hooking her legs at the back of the knees with both hands, Julie offered her pink opening to me. "I've been so fucking horny all day," Julie mewled. "But I haven't touched my pussy. It's so hot, Stone. Come on. Lick my cunt."

The woman squirmed her rump against the seat of the sofa in her urgency. She let go of one leg and splayed her labia with her fingertips. I watched her as she slid a forefinger over the hood of her clit, exposing the taut pink nub and gasping when her finger slid over it.

"Fuck," Julie gasped as her head lolled back. She closed her eyes and winced, then gritted her teeth while she grunted at the pleasure of finally allowing herself to touch her sex. "Please, Stone," Julie sobbed. She looked at me with heavy-lidded eyes. "Lick me. Get me off. Make me come and then fuck the arse off me." Julie writhed on the sofa, jack-knifing at the waist as she reached a hand out to me, her fingers grasping.

I moved closer to her, my fist sliding along my length. "Julie," I groaned. "I never knew you were so dirty."

Her eyes flashed fire as Julie snarled, "Shut up. Just lick my cunt. I've got to come. Please, Stone!"

The carpet felt soft under my knees when I positioned myself between Julie's legs. Her opening gaped and oozed with lust, scarlet with desire while Julie held herself open to me, jaw clenched and eyes wide open with the anticipation of the first dab of my tongue against her body. I paused to examine her smooth vulva until Julie's hips jerked with impatience and she implored me to tongue her, squealing with heightening desperation.

Finally, as I slid my tongue over Julie's clitoris, she gasped and then chuckled darkly. "Oh, Stone," she gurgled, her fingers running over the stubble of my crew-cut. "Oh, that's good. So nice. It's so fucking good to feel your tongue on my clit. Lick me, Stone. Lick my cunt and finger the hole." Her hips convulsed again, short jerks as Julie urged me on, her obvious arousal flaring hotter with each passing second and quick flick of my tongue.

I gave no thought to the consequences of my actions, blind to the danger until the burning ardour had cooled. Right then, at that time, all I can say is I was thinking with my little head, my cock making all the decisions. All my efforts were focussed on hearing Julie gasp and grunt and announce so shrilly that she was coming.

After that, after the woman had climaxed on my face, squealing and grunting so loud that I was glad there were no immediate neighbours, I planned to rise up and, even as Julie thrashed in her orgasm, stab her with my cock.

When the time came, as Mrs Devine informed me in what I would come to recognise as another of her signatures -- an obscene outpouring of gutter language -- that she was coming, I rose up and hovered above her writhing body. With my cock in my fist, I aimed the blunt head at her opening and felt our bodies touch.

Julie's eyes flew open. "Fuck me," she sighed. "Put it in. Do it."

Her body opened for me when I slammed into Julie deep and hard, just as she'd said she wanted it. It felt so good to feel her spongy wetness parting as I pushed further into her, and when I paused, balls deep inside her, I felt her insides clenching around me. We kissed, me above as I supported myself on straight arms while Julie lay on her back, almost doubled over, her neck low on the upright sofa back, hips and pussy uptilted to my assault. She kept her legs wide, forcing her limbs further apart in a desperate contortion which allowed me to penetrate her more deeply.

We fucked like that for several fierce minutes, grunting at each other as we stared intently into one another's eyes in some kind of power struggle. If she wanted it hard, I'd do it hard; I knew I had the stamina for a sustained attack on her squelching cunt as I ram-rodded her.

"I'm going to rip your cunt apart," I muttered, clicking to the fact by then that Julie got off on the dirty talk. "You want it hard, Julie? Here it is. You like it? Do you want more like that?"

"I'm going to come," the woman spat. "Fuck me. Bang my cunt. Split me in two, you gorgeous bastard. Just don't stop. Don't stop fucking me."

Julie's second climax ripped through her as she juddered and shook, her limbs convulsing while her eyes rolled back in her head.

When, finally, her orgasm cooled, Julie pushed me away from her body. She lay there, sprawled inelegantly on the settee, limbs angled awkwardly while her chest heaved with exertion. I eyed her superbly crafted tits before Julie, with a groan and sigh, her eyelids fluttering with pleasure, rolled onto her side. She heaved herself up onto her knees, still on the sofa, and thrust her round arse into the air.

Julie rested her elbows against the sofa back and, angling her hips and widening her knees, with her boobs swaying under her brisket, looked back at me over one shoulder.

"Again, Stone," she commanded. "From behind. Fuck me doggy. Let me feel your big balls slapping me as you hold me around my middle and squeeze my tits. Come on," she urged. "Let's fuck some more."

I went at her just as she asked me to. I leaned low over her back and savoured the weight of her tits in my hands as I squeezed and mauled at them. With my hands overflowing with tit-flesh, I fucked into Julie's body again, but this time, despite my best efforts to hold back, I knew I'd be dumping my load soon.

"Julie," I grunted. "I can't hold on much longer. I'm going to come. I can't help it."

"Don't come inside me," Julie panted as she sought her own climax. "In my mouth, over my tits, anywhere ... Just don't let go in my pussy."

A minute or two later and I felt the inevitable surge.

The woman jerked forward so my cock slid out of her slippery embrace. She corkscrewed around and, as quick as a lizard, somehow slid down between me and the settee.

"On my tits," she hissed up at me, squatting as she squeezed those magnificent boobs together. "Cover my tits, Stone. Show me that spunk. Come for me, baby."

Two squirts of jizm flicked across Julie's face as the stuff burst out of me. The rest rained down onto her breasts, a heavy outpouring of viscous gloop that had Julie yelping with glee.

"Look at all that come," she panted, smearing the gloop that slid down her cheek with the back of a hand. "Did I turn you on so much, Stone? Did I get you so excited you had to spunk on my face!" Julie smirked up at me, the sly expression sliding across her features. "Not that I'm bothered at all. I like it. I love to see a big cock spitting spunk."

As the booze wore off, which left me gagging for a drink of water and with a dull ache behind my eyes, and the fire of my ardour cooled, it dawned on me that for a woman as neglected by her husband as Julie claimed to be, she was certainly well versed as the seductress.

Her depilated pudendum was just the start. There were also the stockings and heels and the gutter language. Unless Julie watched a lot of porn -- which, in point of fact she did I would find out -- her claim that Dave was a less than dutiful husband seemed more than a little spurious. Or, if it was true and Dave really didn't bother with her, just how many men had she fucked in nineteen years?

It seemed to me by then that Julie was more experienced in sexual matters than I'd first imagined. But, of course, by that time I'd already compromised myself and had flown full flight right into Julie's web.

"I think you sleep with me in the big bed upstairs tonight, Stone." Julie said with a grin as she smeared my jizm across her breasts. "I'll say that I was anxious being here in the house alone and called you ... if anyone ever asks." Julie shrugged. "There's only Amy that might see your car anyway, if she even comes home tonight."

What I really wanted to do was get the fuck out of there. I'd come to my senses by then and realised how much shit I could be in. But I didn't want to antagonise Julie and spark off a reaction that might have her confessing all to Dave. 

I needed time to think.

And so it was that I ended up staying with Julie that night. It wasn't all bad of course; I did get to enjoy her physically three more times. But when I drove away from the mansion the following morning, all bleary-eyed and in need of a couple of hours sleep, I had Julie properly measured up in my head. The woman was a fruit loop, no two ways about it. If I didn't watch myself I could be in some very serious bother.

That was all back in October, three months previously, and I'd walked a fine line ever since. Now, like the total dickhead I seem to have become, I compounded the problem by fucking Julie's daughter.

My life had just gotten worse. I wondered how I was going to fulfil Amy's no doubt non-negotiable demand that I kiss her goodnight that very evening.

Three -- The Goodnight Kiss

The call came late.

At first, as the evening wore on, I thought that Amy might just leave me alone. Perhaps deciding that she'd had her fun and, now I was old news she'd grown bored and moved on.

I tried to work on the upcoming Kenya job. Dave had business there in just over a week's time. Legitimate business I assumed since both Julie and Amy were on the trip as well. The fact that both the women would be on that jaunt filled me with icy dread. It had been difficult enough handling the volatile Julie over the last three months, but now I had Amy to contend with too, and given that Dave would be close by for a large portion of the time I was beginning to feel trapped. If it went wrong; if one of the women said something to the big man; if Julie caught me with Amy, or vice versa, all hell could break loose. And I didn't rate my chances of getting off the African continent still breathing and with my limbs attached.

As I sat at my desk going over the logistics of the trip -- travel plans for the lads, weapons we'd be supplied with in-country, training -- I kept glancing at my watch, wondering when the call from Amy would come in.

It got later and later. Ten o'clock, then eleven, half past midnight. By two in the morning I decided that Amy had forgotten about me and I breathed a sigh of relief. Now I had a chance. If I only had Julie to cope with I might somehow survive.

My mobile buzzed at five past the hour.

"Daddy, are you going to come over and kiss me goodnight?"

I hesitated as a number of scenarios rushed through my mind. I opted for an obvious excuse. "Amy, it's the middle of the night. Don't you think there'll be a few questions if I turn up at the house at this hour?"

Her tone was petulant when Amy replied, and I caught a whiff of danger. "But, Daddy. I'm here in my bed. I won't be able to sleep unless you kiss me goodnight. Please, Daddy," the girl wheedled. Then her tone turned darker and there was no mistaking the threat as she let the Princess thing slip for a moment. "My room is at the other end of the house from everybody else. You've got keys to all the gates in the wall and to the doors of the house. You know the alarm codes, Stone. You know everything you need to know except for where my bedroom is."

Actually I did know where Amy's room was situated. I knew the house really well since I'd fucked her mother all over it.

"But if I'm seen, Amy, what the hell do you think will happen? Your father ... Jesus, Amy ..."

"My father doesn't give a shit about me, Stone." The next words that came from her chilled me and turned my guts to water. "But he'd probably be interested to know how you came on to me in the gym today. I wonder what he'd say if he knew his old friend and head of security raped his daughter in the shower?" Then, while the visceral fear slithered dark and deep inside me, Amy turned on the little girl lisp again. "I'm in my bedroom now, Daddy. I'm waiting. I'll turn the bedside lamp on so you'll know which room to come to. Are you coming to see me, Daddy?"

The girl's threat left me little choice. I could either risk going into the lion's den, with the lion in residence, or I could call Amy's bluff; but what I knew about that mad bitch already told me she'd drop me right in the proverbial if I chose to go down that road.

"Of course I am, Princess," I said, sighing as Amy ended the call.

I sat with my elbows on the desk and my head in my hands for a full five minutes. In the end, after weighing up options, I realised that, as lunatic as it might seem, I could pull this stunt of Amy's off. I'd have to somehow convince the girl that this should be a one-off visit. Never to be repeated. I was pretty confident that I could get in and out without being seen, after all, Amy was right when she said I had all the keys and alarm codes. I could drive up and park up in one of the roads in the village close to the mansion. Then it would be a simple matter of unlocking a gate and a door and tapping in a code. Amy's room was far enough away from both her parents' rooms for us not to disturb them. All I needed was a little luck and the plan was workable.

So why was I shitting bricks as I stealthily climbed the back stairs on route to Amy's bedroom an hour later?

Without preamble I opened the door to Amy's room and slid inside.

Now that I'd moved beyond the point of no return the fear left me. If I were caught now then so be it. Another reason that my angst had been set aside was the sight of Amy, nude, as she climbed out of bed and came to greet me.

"Daddy!" she cried, albeit, I noticed, at a low volume. "You came." I couldn't help but return her kiss as she pressed her lovely body against me, moving sinuously as a cat as she pushed her tongue into my mouth. "I've been a bad girl again tonight, Daddy," the girl breathed, her eyes glinting in the refracted glow of the bedside lamp. "While I was waiting for you I ..." She paused and batted her eyelids at me as she smiled all coy and innocence. "... I fucked my pussy with my dildo," she finished with a murmur. My cock thickened as I pictured Amy lying on her bed, legs wide as she thrust a rubber cock into her body. As it turned out, in the course of the next three or four minutes, I'd get to see the actual event for myself. "Do you want to watch me do it?" Amy sighed.

"Oh, God, yes," I muttered as the throbbing in my cock grew almost unbearable. I ran my hands over Amy's slim back, smoothing my palms over her tapered waist as they journeyed down to her hips and over her buttocks. "Show me, Princess," I whispered before we kissed and I squeezed her taut arse.

Amy walked towards her bed, an oversized, unnecessarily large affair. She reached a hand under a pillow and pulled out a huge flesh-coloured dildo. The monstrosity hung from her fist, waggling and wobbling while Amy settled onto the bed and opened her legs. "I want you to watch me while I fuck myself. And if I'm naughty in front of you, Daddy, will you ... will you punish me?"

Gesturing around the room with the sweep of an arm to remind the girl of the circumstances -- her gangster father less than a hundred yards down the hall -- I muttered, "I don't know, Amy ..."

"Not tonight," Daddy. Don't punish me tonight. But soon, very soon, I want you to tell me how wicked I've been."

I nodded, bowing to the inevitable. "All right."

"Oh, Daddy," Amy gasped as she pushed the blunt head of the dildo at her body. "It's so big inside me. Oh, look how it stretches me." The girl groaned and, staring at me through lust-glazed eyes, spread her legs to show me just how her body accommodated that bludgeon. "My little cunt is so full. But it feels so fucking good. Watch me, Daddy. Watch me being naughty. I'm a wicked, bad girl to do this in front of my daddy, but I love it. I love fucking my nasty pussy while you watch."

"Fuck," I hissed, my eyes glued to the sight. "That's really sexy, Amy."

"Am I a beautiful princess like this for you? Am I your beautiful princess?"

I nodded, my jaw slack, now desperate to touch my own cock. "You're a beautiful, sexy princess," I groaned. "You make your daddy feel hot."

"Show me," Amy grunted, wincing with pleasure as she pushed the dildo deeper into her opening. "Let me see how excited you are, Daddy. Show me your big cock. Pull it while I fuck my pussy."

Unzipping my jeans, I then hauled forth my desire while I stared in fascination at Amy and her rubber friend. I shuffled closer to the bed to get a better view of the girl's pussy as Amy slowly eased the length of it into her body. Her stretched flesh bulged on the outstroke, so tight around the girth of the thing that I feared she would split. But I needn't have worried, because the gloop I saw foaming on the shaft of the dildo told me that Amy had all the lubrication she needed to make the insertion of such a brutal device relatively simple.




Stone and the Gangster's Girls



Soon, when Amy became so aroused that her pussy squelched and farted, goo sliding out of her to dribble along the crease of her arse, I was tugging at myself with urgency.

Amy raised her legs and, with the dildo hanging out of her, held her knees with one hand as she rolled onto her side. In this position, knees together and her labia clamped around the rubber cock, Amy reached back and took hold of the shaft with a backhand grip.

"I'm going to come, Daddy," she moaned, her voice muffled with her face pressed into the pillow. "I'm such a nasty girl. I'm going to come on my dildo."

"It's beautiful, Princess," I hissed, my own fist a blur. Despite everything -- my concerns at being in such a precarious position, having carnal knowledge of Dave Devine's wife and daughter, and the chance that someone could well burst into the room to investigate the inevitable grunts and moans -- I found myself carried away with the wholly sordid fantasy scene the girl had created.

I found the sight of that girl jamming the length of rubber into her cunt to be one of the most exciting visions I'd ever seen. Her profile twisted as she gulped and grunted, her climax boiling between her legs. She gasped and mauled at one breast, with its round nipple as hard as a pebble as her body began its convulsions.

I'm gonna come too, Amy," I grunted, not knowing if the girl could even hear me.

I took a step closer to the bed and gasped as the semen jetted out of me. Great globules of spunk spattered against Amy's skin as the stuff cascaded in a heavy arc to land with a splatter against Amy's hip and thigh. More of the stuff rained onto the quilt cover, with one stray blob splashing onto Amy's calf.

"Daddy," Amy panted. "Oh, Daddy, I came so hard." Amy rolled onto her back with the dildo still wedged inside her body as she pulled a face and raised her hips. "You've come on me," she said, breathless and holding up a hand smeared with jizm after exploring the damp bed beneath her. "You came on me and messed up my fucking bed." Anxiety slid in my guts as I stood there, my cock dribbling ooze, and I thought that the girl was about to start causing all kinds of drama.

"Amy, I ..." I began, intending to apologise for staining the bed and perhaps staving off any unpleasant repercussions should she start yelling.

Then, to my relief, Amy smirked and smeared my gloop onto over her skin. "I love it, Daddy. That means I can smell you all night. When you leave I'll be able to play with my clit and think of you. Your scent will be here with me. It's like the animals do, Daddy. They leave their mark to claim their territory. Is that what you've done, Daddy? Is that why you came on me and my bed? Is it to mark me as your princess? Is it a warning to others to keep away, Daddy?"

Again, now that the ardour had cooled I could appreciate how precarious my position was. The stuff the girl came out with ... she really was fruit loop, a fucking loony tune. I realised then that she could be capable of anything. The daddy/princess thing was one thing, I could get my head around that -- and it really was sexy as hell, kinky -- but some of the other stuff really had me worried.

The only thing I could think of to do at that moment was to play along with her.

"Your my princess, Princess. I'm your daddy and I'll look after you."

"Kiss me, Daddy," Amy whispered, her eyes dark. "Kiss me goodnight."

Just as I quietly opened Amy's bedroom door, she murmured to me, "I'll phone you tomorrow, Stone. Be ready for a surprise when you get the call."

It wasn't until I got back to the Range Rover and safety that I turned over Amy's final words in my head; I hoped she meant a nice surprise, not an unpleasant one.

What I didn't realise then, and I wouldn't find out until Kenya, was that someone had seen me from one of the upstairs windows as I'd moved along the path from the house to the back gate set in the formidable wall.

Four -- The Punishing of Amy

The confession was close to bursting out of me. I felt like I would explode if I didn't unburden myself of all this baggage I was hauling around. Julie had been bad enough with her insatiable sex drive and penchant sometimes towards risky sex. After three months of living on a knife-edge, wondering if she would blab to Dave or if we'd be caught by some unforeseen circumstance, I'd grown used to her and found a sort of equilibrium. The fear and anxiety never went away, but I had it under control at least. Now, with Amy adding to my weight of troubles, and working on less than an hour's sleep, pumped up with caffeine, I felt a reckless urge to tell someone about my problems.

At ten o'clock on the morning after the visit to Amy's bedroom, I was in the office with Tommo as we looked over the final preparations for the Kenya trip. Tommo was a bloke I could rely on. Next to me, at thirty-six, he was the oldest and most experienced on the team. Our careers in the army had overlapped and I knew the man well. More importantly, I trusted him.

For the Kenya trip our threat estimate was low, and I think Dave really wanted some of us along just to show off to the Africans. As we checked details of the trip -- flights, accommodation, weapons and ammunition -- I experienced an overwhelming desire to spill all to Tommo. Just as I opened my mouth to speak it then dawned on me that if, or more likely when, Dave discovered the liberties I'd taken with his wife and daughter, anyone I'd taken into my confidence would be in jeopardy. I couldn't predict Dave Devine's response to the fact that I'd dicked both women; he could decide on extreme violence to exact his retribution, and I wouldn't want anyone else but me to suffer as a result of my irresponsibility.

There was also something on Tommo's mind. He seemed a little distracted, perhaps a little anxious at the forthcoming trip. I'd given Tommo a lot more responsibility on this job, partly to boost him along in terms of his standing within the organisation, and partly because my dealings with Julie had caused me more than a few sleepless nights. So, as it went, I didn't purge my soul to my second-in-command and friend. I kept my dirty little secret to myself and waited for Amy's promised call.

When I answered the mobile a woman's voice asked, "Is that Stone?" I confirmed my identity and the voice continued. "I have a message from Amy." 

My first thought was that this was someone making a move on Dave and that Amy had been taken as a hostage, but it just as quickly occurred to me that Dave would be their first contact, either him or Julie, not me.

Glancing at Tommo as my quick fright subsided, I responded as casually as I could manage. "OK, go on."

Another look towards Tommo and I saw him apparently engrossed in some detail of our morning's work.

"On the estate," the woman said. "Amy's grandmother's block. You know it?"

The woman was talking about the flat where Dave Devine grew up, the one he escaped from as soon as his rise in the criminal underworld allowed. Dave and I had spoken of our common past a few times, and where I'd bought my mum and dad a cottage down in the New Forest, taking a mortgage on the place when I'd settled into the military as a career, Dave's mother, a widow, had stoutly refused to move out of the old flat. An amazing choice in my opinion, but I suppose the old lady had her reasons. It takes all sorts to make a world.

"I know the place," I replied.

"Same block, flat 17. One hour." There was a pause. "Can you be there in an hour?"

With the main business of the day almost complete I decided that I could make the rendezvous. I had no work pressing during the rest of the afternoon and could leave the team to look after itself. Besides, Amy's threat about telling Dave I'd raped her in the shower was still uppermost in my mind. I'd had a scare that made my balls tingle, and so I thought it wise to accede to the girl's crazy set-up. Maybe I could figure out a way to get her under some sort of control as things played out.

So that was how it went. I'd almost convinced myself I could handle Amy and her mother when I told Tommo I wasn't feeling on top form and that a little siesta might be in order.

"OK, boss," Tommo replied, seemingly unconcerned. "Will you be back in later?"

"I'll let you know," I said as I left him there in the office.

I took the tube to the estate after deciding that I didn't want to risk the Range Rover. Not that it would be vandalised or stolen, not one of Dave Devine's fleet of motors, but I didn't want the car's presence to give any cause for questions being asked, just on the off-chance that word got back to Dave.

Half a mile from the tube station to the miserable tower block and the drab grey day only enhanced the depressing scene of litter, graffiti, take-away chicken and pizza joints and ubiquitous betting shops. Out of the five concrete towers that made up the estate, the one occupied by Dave Devine's sainted mother was the only one with a lift that didn't stink of piss, and where the walls and pathways were clear of graffiti tags and litter.

Still, being deep into Dave Devine's territory with no real reason to be there, I felt a tickle of anxiety at what I might find beyond the door in flat 17. It was a plain, blue door, no heavy iron grill in place as a deterrent to burglars. Not even the smackheads in their skin-crawling desperation would dare to sully the block of flats Dave's mum lived in. That's how fearful Mr Devine's reputation was. At this reminder of how fearsome Mr Devine had become I paused before knocking on the door. I really was caught between the proverbial rock and hard place. What the hell was I doing here? If Dave finds out ...

And then I remembered that Amy could just blow me out of the water quite easily herself. Especially if I pissed her off. She was expecting me, it probably wouldn't be a great idea to turn and walk away.

A faded blonde answered the door at my knock. I took in the detail quickly as she looked me up and down in a bored, jaded fashion. I put her age at thirty or so. She had the look of a woman who'd seen it all, an air of cynicism in the way she eyed me with a cold stare of haughty indifference. At one time in the not too distant past she would have been a stunner, and I could see the prettiness in her face despite the faint crows' feet around her eyes. Her blue eyes showed a bright intelligence that could easily be overlooked, and I imagined that there might be more to this woman than front she immediately presented. Nice legs, I noticed during a quick glance at her skirt and boots. The skirt fell to mid thigh while the boots were calf length with a pointed toe and lethal heels. She looked to be pretty well stacked up top too as her bust pressed against the simple white blouse, and I could just see her perched on some bar stool, cigarette in one hand drink in the other while she teased horny young men with a flash of thigh and a dirty laugh.

"I'm stone," I said by way of introduction.

The woman didn't deign to reply, merely took a step to one side and then, as I stepped past at her invitation to enter the flat, closed the door.

In the tiny hallway of the two-bedroom flat I was reminded of my own youth in a flash of bittersweet reminiscence when I recalled my old dad, now long retired, as he stepped out for work at the railway yards from a flat so very like this one. For a moment I wondered at how my mum and dad would cope if I just disappeared one day. What would they think of Dave had me dropped over the side of some anonymous fishing boat way out on the English Channel?

Again I cursed my own stupidity at the situation I found myself in, but, since I was now committed, I had no choice but to follow the blonde as she led me silently along the short hallway to what I remembered would be the living room.

"Oh, Daddy!" Amy cried when I stepped into the room after the blonde. "What ... what's going to happen to me?"

The truthful answer to that was that I didn't have a clue. I thought this was her gig, that Amy would be calling the shots, but judging by the fact that she was fully dressed and sat on an old ladder-backed wooden chair with her wrists and ankles bound I sort of doubted it.

"Shut up, bitch," the blonde suddenly snarled, taking me by surprise as she slapped a palm across Amy's cheek. After a moment of shock, where I stood in the middle of the room and stared at the woman, I took a step forward. "Don't bother trying to help her," the blonde hissed, holding up a restraining palm. "She's got to be punished. The nasty little slut." The woman grabbed Amy by the face, her fingers pressing into the girl's cheeks. "Tell him," the blonde insisted. "Tell him what a filthy tart you are." 

The woman released Amy's face and I saw the red welts across the girl's face from the stinging slap.

What the fuck was I involved in?

Amy sniffed and breathed deeply for a few seconds. "Oh, Daddy," she blurted through a sob. "It's true. I've been so bad. I touch myself and fuck my little pussy with nasty rubber cocks. I ... I think about fucking all the time. When I sit on the bus I think about all the men on there with me touching me and letting me suck their cocks. I fantasise about them all fucking me and covering me with spunk after using me as a sex toy."

I suddenly understood the scene. Amy riding on public transport was a joke, there was be no way the spoilt rich girl would get on a bus, so this whole thing was simply another of Amy's perverted games. This was Amy's punishment, another demonstration of her kinkiness, an arrangement for Amy's benefit. 

Who the blonde was, I had no clue, but I sussed that she was the director in this scene, and anything she did, including slapping the girl's face, would be within some code of conduct between the pair that I wasn't privy to.

I decided to go with the flow. If this was what Amy wanted, OK, I'd play the game; unless it got too weird.

The living room made a surreal setting for what followed. For a start it was an anachronism in itself given the block of flats that housed its walls. It was like stepping into a showpiece from some up-market furniture dealer's catalogue. The sofa and armchair combination looked brand new and expensive, while a huge flat-screen TV covered one wall. The place was done out in subdued pastel shades that whispered taste and money. If I didn't know better I'd swear I was in some high-fliers apartment in docklands, not a flat in a dingy tower block on a sink estate.

Then there was Amy on that piece of shit kitchen furniture all trussed up.

"You spoil yourself way too much," the blonde said as she loomed over the girl. "It's time for a little lesson." She indicated Amy's wrists bound behind her back. "There's no way you can touch yourself like that, is there?"

With that she turned and walked to a small bag that sat on the carpet next to the settee. The woman knelt and unzipped the bag, rummaging around inside for a moment before pulling out a dildo.

"Daddy," Amy murmured, eyes imploring as she stared at me. "Help me, Daddy. Please help me."

"Shut up!" the woman spat. "Keep your mouth shut. Nobody's interested in anything your slut mouth has to say.

I watched as the blonde calmly hiked up her skirt, bunching the material around her waist. It looked to me that she carried a little more flesh than she would have done half a dozen years before, but the effect of seeing her so blithely displayed caused a flicker of interest in my cock.

The woman sat on the sofa and then eased back into its embrace. She folded her legs and, with no regard for the damage her heels might cause to the expensive furnishings, rested her boots on the seat. With her legs spread wide she hauled aside her scant underwear to reveal a pair of meaty flaps, her labia dangling all loose and thick. Again my cock pulsed with interest.

"Watch me," the blonde sighed as she splayed herself open with her fingertips, rings on her fingers glinting dully in the murky light from outside shining in through the balcony doors. "I'm going to show you what you look like when you fuck yourself with one of these dirty things." She held up the rubber cock before taking hold of it in one fist and rubbing the blunt end around her vulva. Then, with a gasp, she nudged at her opening and took three inches of latex into her body. "It's nasty watching me fuck myself, isn't it? But I bet it's making you all wet, eh? Look at it, bitch. Watch me shove all of it into my cunt."

Amy groaned, her eyes glazed while she stared with hot-eyed desire at the woman on the settee. "Oh fuck," she sighed. "I'm horny ..."

"I told you to keep your slut mouth fucking closed," the woman snarled. She slid the full length of the dildo out of her body and lowered her bootheels to the floor. In a second or two she was up out of the seat and advancing on a wide-eyed Amy. "Bitch," the woman spat as her palm slapped Amy's cheek. She took a fistful of the girl's long hair and yanked hard. Amy winced and yelped as her head snapped backwards. "Maybe this will keep you quiet," the blonde snarled and then forced the dildo between Amy's lips. "Taste my cunt," she added with a hiss and a tug on Amy's hair. The woman suddenly released her grip and turned to face me. Pointing at the sofa and then to Amy the blonde instructed me to carry the girl to the sofa. "Put her on the floor on her knees," the woman commanded as she regained her position on the settee, legs wide and pussy exposed.

The dildo rolled from Amy's lap onto the floor when I picked her up. I baby-carried her the few paces across the room and settled her on the carpet where the blond had pointed.

It was obvious what the woman wanted and, as the blonde splayed her flaps with her fingers, Amy leaned forward.

"Lick my cunt," the blonde hissed. "Taste me. That's what a woman tastes like, you dirty little tart. Lick my pussy and suck my clit. Get me off so I squirt on your face."

"Oh fuck, Stella," Amy gasped as she came up from the woman's greasy labia for a moment. "I want to touch myself. Please, just let me play with my pussy. Just for a few seconds."

"You don't fucking learn, do you?" Stella snarled. She grabbed a handful of Amy's hair and, twisting roughly so the girl gasped in pain, forced Amy's face against her sex. "You don't talk. You don't say anything. All you do is lick my cunt when I tell you to. You do what I say, when I fucking tell you. Get it?"

Stella looked up at me and told me to lift Amy onto her feet. "Get her standing," she barked. "On her feet and then unfasten her jeans.

As gently as I could I brought Amy upright. Next I unbuttoned her jeans and pulled down the zip.

"Pull them down. Get her jeans down as far as you can." I managed to yank Amy's tight jeans down until they were bunched just below her knees, a struggle because they were just about skin tight and I had a job to get them past her hips. "Turn her round," Stella said in low, dangerous voice. "Let me look at that arse." Amy minced around one hundred and eighty degrees with a little assistance from me. "Look at that," Stella gurgled. "What a perfect peach of an arse."

The woman reached out a hand and gently caressed each taut globe, feeling the pliant texture of each of Amy's buttocks with a dreamy smile on her face.

"You," Stella said, jabbing a finger at me. "Sit here." She patted the sofa seat next to her and then rose to her feet. "Sit down and then drape this slut across your lap. Get her sweet rump in the air. I want to see her arse."

So I sat down and helped Amy to lie across my lap. The girl was positioned in such a way that her hips rested on my thighs and thrust her pert derrière upwards.

Stella leaned low and stroked each buttock slowly, caressing and murmuring endearments until she laid a series of soft, feather-light kisses across each globe.




Stone and the Gangster's Girls



The sudden switch from rabid dominatrix to this fawning over the girl's bottom fooled me completely, and it wasn't until the first sharp slap of Stella's palm and Amy's yelp that I realised what was to come.

"I'll teach you to put things inside your pussy, you filthy whore," Stella snarled. Her palm struck tender flesh again. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" Two more handprints appeared as Amy's skin began to redden.

"No," Amy sobbed. "No, don't. Please. I'm sorry, Stella. I'm so sorry. I won't do it again."

Three blows in quick succession stopped Amy's pleading, instead the girl began to wail.

"Don't lie to me," Stella said with a snort of derision. "You can't help yourself. You love playing with your little pink pussy, eh?"

"I do, I do," Amy admitted with another gasp. "I can't help it. I get so turned on and horny. I just have to play with myself. It feels so good when I come."

"Oh, that's so wicked!" Stella cried. Her hand smacked against Amy's glowing buttocks at least six more times. "So bad. You're a dirty girl."

So far I'd just been sat there like a lump with Amy's weight against my thighs. I felt the girl squirming as she tried unsuccessfully to deflect the stinging blows from her defenceless rump. It wasn't doing much for me in terms of arousal, but I assumed Amy was actually enjoying herself.

"Spank her," Stella ordered. "She calls you her daddy." Stella's mouth curled in disdain. "You haven't done much for disciplining the filthy little bitch so far, have you ... Daddy?"

Amy writhed against my legs. "No, Daddy," she moaned. Please, don't smack me."

I took Amy's sobbing plea to be all part of the game. I looked at Stella, whose blue eyes now sparkled with some indefinable emotion. Was she turned on by this, or was she some professional that Amy had paid for her services? Finally, after Stella met my gaze with a challenge of her own, I decided to hell with it and swatted Amy's already glowing buttocks.

The girl gasped and squirmed while Stella laughed and said derisively, "You call that a spanking?" Her eyes filled with scorn. "Slap her. Make her arse sing. Make the little bitch sorry for all the dirty stuff she's done."

"Oh, no, Daddy. Oh, God, please ... No ... I beg you, Daddy. Don't smack my bottom again. It's so sore. I'll be good from now on. I promise."

"Do it," Stella said through gritted teeth. "Spank her or she'll never learn."

I gave Amy's rump four heavy-handed thwacks. Each time my palm struck her skin Amy's buttocks jiggled. There were angry handprints on her flesh, swollen and bruised looking, and I wondered at the consequences for the girl after such a tanning. She wouldn't be able to sit down for days.

"You know that this is doing no good, don't you?" Stella said while Amy moaned and sobbed. "The little bitch loves it really. Don't be fooled by the crying and the pleading." Stella wedged a hand down between Amy's thighs. "Look at that," she said with a smug smirk of triumph. She held her fingers up for me to see. "She's so wet down there it's like she's pissed herself. Here," Stella offered. "Feel for yourself."

It was true. When I pushed my fingers between Amy's legs and felt her pussy they came up smeared with the girl's desire.

"I know a way to sort you out," Stella said as she rose to her feet and moved to her bag of tricks. To me, as she approached with something I couldn't yet identify in her hand, Stella said, "Spread her arse cheeks." I complied and then saw that Stella the object Stella had brought with her was a butt-plug. The thing began at a blunt point, all rounded for an easy insertion and which then spread to a diameter of some inches. I was relieved to see Stella had also collected a tube of some lubricating gunk; to think of that brutal device puncturing Amy's sphincter made my own eyes water. "There," Stella whispered as she smeared a dollop of lube over the stain of Amy's anus. "Nice and slick for this fucker to slide in."

"Oh ..." Amy groaned, head lolling as Stella probed at the puckered opening. "It's filling my arse," she moaned.

If anything I thought that having that butt-plug slid into her backdoor made Amy even hornier than before. But, it seemed, that was the plan, to get the girl all hot and bothered, really get her going but without allowing her to touch her pussy at all. I imagine that for a girl like Amy, with her voracious sexual appetite, not touching her clitoris or being able to finger her pussy would be an exquisite torture. This led me to deduce that, eventually, when Stella finally allowed the girl her release, that the floodgates would open and Amy would come a river. There was no doubt in my mind at all that this performance was entirely for Amy's gratification.

"Dump the filthy cunt on the settee and come over to the chair," Stella instructed with her usual charm. After a little wriggling around I managed to get into a position where I could slide Amy off my lap and onto the sofa. Then I joined Stella by the ladder-backed chair. The woman sat with her legs wide and, after unbuttoning her blouse, levered her large breasts out of the cups of her bra. "Get your cock out," she hissed without any ceremony, while at the same time hooking her underwear to one side with a finger so she could rub her fleshy vulva.

I wasn't too sure what to expect, but I had an inkling that it would involve the jaded blonde and my erection. Stella was on me as soon as I freed my cock from my jeans. She reached for me and stroked her fist along the length, commenting on how hard I was.

From across the room, laid on her side looking at us, Amy murmured, "Don't do it, Daddy. Not with her."

"He loves it, you stupid bitch," Stella interjected. "He doesn't need a dirty slut like you to play with him and get him all sexy; he needs a real woman." Stella slid my cock between her soft breasts, squeezing the tit flesh around me as she goaded the trussed up girl and tit-wanked me.

I looked down at Stella as she worked her soft magic on my length. The rings on her fingers appeared expensive to my, albeit inexpert, eye. Her nails were perfectly manicured, pearlescent and sculpted, which also suggested that Stella had some cash to throw about. What was her background? What was her relationship with Amy? How did they meet?

And then all those trivial questions just evaporated when I felt the tingling onset of my surge.

"That's good," I groaned without meaning to.

"Daddy!" Amy gasped while Stella gave a low, dark chuckle.

"You like my tits, eh?" Stella asked as my cock leaked pre-cum. The woman then smeared the slippery ooze across her chest and the smooth upper slopes of her breasts. The deep crease of Stella's cleavage shone with the fluid that dribbled out of me. "He likes my big jugs better than your tiny tits, slut," she called. "Look at him; he's so excited he's pissing goo all over my boobs."

I glanced in Amy's direction when the girl let out a sob. She whispered, "No, Daddy. Don't let her do it. She's a dirty old whore. Please, Daddy. Untie me and lick my pussy. It's so hot and itchy. I need to come. Fuck me instead. Give me your lovely big cock." 

The gleam in her eyes told me that Amy wanted me to do exactly the opposite. I'd bet she really was desperate to touch herself, but that she and Stella had it all planned. Stella wouldn't grant Amy any freedom until they'd both played out their sordid parts in this dirty little scene. In reality Amy loved this game. When, eventually, this thing finally reached its conclusion, I knew Amy would come and come, her climax all the more intense because of the build up.

By then, with Stella's breasts milking me, I was already caught up in the whole thing, only too willing play along with it; I fancied the arse of the blonde and her comfortable body, and if I got to fuck both of these two filthy-minded, potty-mouthed women, I wasn't going to complain.

Again, my little head ruled my actions. It was becoming a habit.

"I'm going to suck him now," Stella informed Amy. "You just lie there and watch his face. You just see how a proper woman pleases a man."

I groaned and pushed my fingers into the blonde's hair as her lips folded around the bulging plum of my cock-head. Stella's hair fell loose when I knocked one of the fastenings out of place and, with her eyes staring up at me, face distorted by my girth stretching her lips, hair in disarray, Stella appeared, in my eyes, to be the personification of the mature slut.

The impression was reinforced in my mind by Stella's breasts, big and heavy and round, all smeared and stained, hanging over her bra while she rubbed her vulva and sucked my root.

"Oh, fuck," I heard Amy groan. "That's so dirty. Look at you two ... It isn't fair. I want someone to lick my pussy while I suck cock."

My dick plopped from Stella's lips with a distinctly wet sound. She pushed at me with a hand, rising to her feet when I stepped back a pace. "Put the chair closer to the settee," Stella instructed me. "I want her to see it all close-up."

Without questioning I lifted the chair nearer to the sofa while, simultaneously, Stella retrieved the rubber cock. She then sat on the chair and, with her sex pouting all heavy-lipped and sodden a matter of inches from Amy's face, Stella slid the dildo into her opening.

Amy gasped and Stella snarled, "Stick your cock in my mouth. Let the bitch watch me suck you while I fuck my hole with this fucking thing."

The dildo slithered in until there was almost none of it visible. Stella then began to thrust in and out, grunting and groaning with her face stuffed full of my gristle. Her pussy squelched obscenely as the blonde fucked herself more and more urgently. She slobbered and slurped at my pole, licking and sucking and making her lips pop around the domed head from time to time. With one hand busy with the dildo, Stella worked the root of my cock, pumping me with a hand while massaging my swinging balls.

"Oh fuck," I heard Amy groan. "I want to play with my pussy. Please, Daddy, untie my hands so I can rub myself. I'm so fucking horny just watching you."

"Shut up," Stella hissed, her hand moving quickly while she stroked my length. "Watch and suffer and think about how good it feels for me to shove this thing into my cunt." She eased the dildo out of her body and held it close to Amy's face. "I can't tell you how good it is to fuck myself with it." Next she waggled my cock in her hand. "And this is so sexy too. Sucking his dick is getting me all hot to be fucked." Stella paused and smirked at the girl, helpless on the sofa. "He's going to put his big dick into my cunt and we're going to fuck. How does that sound?"

"I want it to be me," Amy wailed. She looked up at me, her green eyes pleading. "Fuck me instead, Daddy. My pussy is nice and tight." Amy jerked her chin at Stella. "Not like her big ugly cunt. Hers is disgusting, all big and floppy. Fuck my little pussy instead, Daddy. Please."

To be honest I found Stella's ungainly labia and meaty clitoris hugely erotic. I thought that the woman's pussy had character, an ugly beauty that sent an arterial burst of lust through me when the loose flaps clung to the shaft of the dildo on the outstroke. Having said that I did have first-hand experience of Amy's pussy, and I had to admit that fucking into her spongy wetness as her clenching insides opened for me had a special appeal of its own.

I decided to let Stella continue to dictate proceedings.

Stella laughed and leaned in to rub the smeared dildo over Amy's face. "Open your mouth," she snapped. "You've got way too much to say still. Suck my cunt off this and keep fucking quiet for a change."

For a few seconds Stella held Amy's head still by clamping the girl's hair in her fist. She then fed the rubber cock between Amy's lips, forcing her to slurp and suck at it before withdrawing it again.

Amy gagged and coughed, silvery strands of drool sliding down her chin. "Fuck my mouth, Daddy," she urged, eyes glistening with tears as she spluttered and choked.

"There's no curing her, is there?" Stella said to me all matter of fact, as though referring to a recalcitrant child. "You'd better do it. Just fuck her throat while I get ready to teach her a proper lesson." Stella pointed to Amy and then at her bag. "Go on, fuck the tramp's throat. Choke her with your cock. I've got a surprise in store for her."

"Please, Daddy," Amy whispered. "Do it. Fuck my face. I want you to."

In for a penny, in for a pound, and while this wasn't exactly my thing, I was fired up enough to give it a try.

"Oh, fuck," Amy gasped when I positioned myself over her in a sort of half crouch and pressed my cock to her lips. "You're so big and hard ..." And then all she could do was swallow quickly as I held her head with one hand and pushed between her lips.

"Harder," Stella called over. "Really fuck her mouth. Make her gag. Choke her."

Amy gagged and coughed again when I slid out of her gullet. She gasped for air, more drool sliding out of her mouth as her eyes watered.

"More," Amy croaked. "Fuck my throat some more."

I eased my dick back into Amy's mouth, forcing myself to push more and more of my length into her. I could feel her throat constricting around me when her gag reflex kicked in, but at Stella's high-pitched urging, kept on pushing until Amy, somehow, had swallowed all of me. My balls butted against the girl's chin as she stared up at me, eyes wide and her mouth full to bursting as it bulged with meat.

"Oh my God," Amy croaked after another bout of coughing and spluttering and spitting saliva all over her chest. "I took it all," she said hoarsely, apparently proud of the fact that she'd managed to accommodate all of me in her gullet. My erection hung with silver ropes of drool which shivered and trembled as my cock waggled when I moved. Amy shook her head and tried to wipe her wet eyes against the sleeve of her tee-shirt, more strands of gloop dangling from her chin.

"And now you're going to take all of this," Stella announced, and when I turned my head at the sound of the blonde's voice I saw her advancing with yet another sex toy strapped to her body. "You're going to get fucked with this strap-on," Stella said with an evil grin twisting her lips. "But I'm not going to fuck your pussy with it ... It's going to replace that butt plug you've got wedged in your arse."

Far from being intimidated or scared by the prospect of having her anus probed by the thick length of rubber jutting from Stella's groin, Amy seemed delighted, even squirming around to offer herself.

"All of it," she gasped. "I'm so fucking horny I want it all. Both of you, do your worst to me, and then keep doing it."

Again at Stella's instruction, I positioned Amy bodily so that her round rump was vulnerable. I stared in fascination, stroking my cock slowly while watching Stella first pop the butt-plug from Amy's anus before she leaned over the girl and took hold of the rubber cock strapped to her body. Stella smeared a generous dollop of lube over the tip of the faux penis before, with a forefinger slick with the stuff, she eased a digit into the ring of Amy's sphincter.

With Amy's legs bound as they were, and because of her position on her side, her face to the sofa back, I could see the mollusc of the girl's vulva pressed between her thighs. The labia peeled tackily apart when Stella splayed Amy's buttocks and nudged her muddy hole with the blunt end of the strap-on.

"Oh, fuck," Amy groaned against the sofa back when, with a sharp thrust of her hips, Stella jabbed into her through the back door. "Oh fuck, yes!" she cried. "It feels so ... so fucking full back there. My arse feels stuffed with it. "Stella ... Please, Stella, fuck me with it. Fuck my arse. I fucking love it."

With all pretence blown away, as Stella thrust into Amy and the girl moaned her delight, the blonde looked at me and told me to untie Amy's wrists and ankles. "When she's loose," Stella continued, "I'll fuck her until she comes. Then she can watch and finger herself while you fuck me. Does that sound like a good idea? Wouldn't you like to fuck me, Stone?"

I nodded, too stunned to answer, shocked by the way my day had panned out. When I'd hoped that Amy's surprise would be a nice one, I'd never envisioned this. My fingers scrabbled at the bindings at the girl's wrists as she writhed and thrashed, thwarting my efforts until, finally, after more than a minute of fumbling, released from the restrictions of the bonds, Amy reached between her legs and rubbed herself quickly.

"I'm coming," she sobbed. "Oh ... Oh it feels so fucking good. My fingers in my pussy ... You, Stella, in my arse, fucking me ..."

Stella steadied herself with a palm resting on Amy's hip as she jabbed and stabbed and thrust, apparently determined to bore as deep into the girl's dirty-hole as she could probe. She looked at me standing to one side, my cock in my hand again while I committed every lewd detail to memory.

"Sit down," Stella hissed at me, eyes staring intently. "Sit down on that chair over there." She pointed to an armchair. "Hold you cock upright so I can climb onto it. When this bitch comes ..."

Even as I moved over to the chair, looking back over my shoulder as I went so I could watch every second of the depravity unfolding behind me, Amy grunted and swore, her body twitching, thighs juddering as they clamped against the hand still wedged between her legs.

Stella pulled the long rubber cock out of Amy's body. She cursed as she fumbled at the straps holding the apparatus in place, and then, with a yelp of triumph, Stella discarded the waggling rubber and harness contraption without a second's thought before she advanced on me.

The heat of her engulfed me as she clambered onto the chair. With her big tits pressing against my face, Stella began to ride me, urgent pants puffing out of her as her well-padded buttocks slapped against my thighs.

"Suck my tits," Stella groaned. "Let me fuck your lovely cock while you suck my tits. Go on, Stone," she urged. "I'm so turned on. Can you feel how horny I am? Can you feel how wet I am down there?" Jesus," she blasphemed, "I'm hotter than Amy. It feels so good to have your dick inside me, Stone. I want you deep ..."

Stella groaned and ground her pubis against me in an effort to take all of me, balls and all it seemed, into her body. There was no way I could hold off for long under the fleshy onslaught of Stella's generous breasts and squelching cunt.

"I'm going to come," I warned with a moan. "I can't stop it."

"Let it go," Stella sighed, her blonde hair falling over her face as she rose and fell on my cock. "Squirt me full of spunk," she squealed.

The stuff poured out of me while I cried out at the ecstasy of my release. Squirting deep into Stella's body, I clasped my fingers to her buttocks and dug them into the flesh, pulling her down onto my gushing dick.

"I can feel you!" Stella cried. "I can feel your cock pulsing. You're filling me with spunk, aren't you stone? Fill me with it. I want you to give me it all until it overflows."

Then she kissed me, her mouth pressed to mine while her tongue slid between my lips. The kiss went on and on, and even after my cock had finished its spurting Stella kept on kissing me.

Suddenly, Stella broke away. With a hand cupped between her legs the blonde hauled herself upright and staggered on those wicked heels across to the sofa. Amy lay there, fingers knuckle deep inside her opening as she stared across at me.

"That was so fucking sexy," she groaned. "Watching you two fuck ... Oh, God, it was so good to see your cock sliding up into her, Stone."

"Lick it out of me," Stella interrupted as she collapsed onto the settee almost on top of Amy. "Lick his spunk out of me, Amy."

Five minutes later and Stella, still with the skirt around her waist and her tits bulging over her bra cups, sat on the sofa smoking.