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Suddenly

By: Nakod Apa



It being an unseasonally mild, spring afternoon I had the top down on my somewhat ancient MG convertible as I cruised contentedly along the coast road. Passing the lopsided sign, half hidden in the long grass, that declared "Seadown - (for happy holidays) - population 13754", I was amused to notice some wag had put a line through the number and above it scrawled "13756 and a half and hoping". Chuckling I drove on basking in the warm breeze to the town where, it being still just off-season, I readily found a parking place before a small cafe/diner on the sea-front promenade. 

Climbing out I spent a some minutes stretching lazy muscles while staring at the calm sea that gently lapped the sandy beach. Then, as a brief nod towards my duties, I set off to inspect the few shops the resort boasted. 

Supposedly I was there to research how they presented their stocks of the products of Hope and Sons (toy makers to the masses); it being my excuse for playing truant from a stuffy office. Not that I really needed one, since I am Richard, the younger of the eponymous Sons of Hope. And, after a short career in the Royal Navy, now rejoice in the sinecure of "Development Director". 

Strolling past the local information centre I found that, unexpectedly for the close season, it was open - though hardly busy. A solitary young woman of around twenty, with elegant legs, dressed in a white blouse and light blue, knee length skirt, was occupied in stocking up the brochures and timetables that are the staple diet of such places.

One look and I was gone. 

Was it lust, affection, desire, love? I knew not. 'Tis said that most men merely look on a woman's body as a source of pleasure, but from experience I knew that what I felt was more - much more - than the normal lusting after a seductive female. While I wanted this one, and I wanted her very much indeed - with her slight build, lightly rounded hips and dark hair tied back in a ponytail - it was not solely for sex. 

It was, perhaps, fortunate that she didn't notice me until I'd managed to collect my faculties. It also helped that lightning had struck me this way before. Twice in fact. Though in both cases the woman proved to be married and unavailable to become my consort and also, in addition to satisfying my lusts, provide friendship. Was this one to be any different; was it to be third time lucky? I could but follow my name and hope.

By the time she noticed my presence I had my emotions well under control. What we spoke of I cannot recall - I was more concerned that she wore no ring. Though I did note that her name tag read "S. Frobisher".

After a brief conversation my supposed mission was on the back burner and since slowly, slowly, catchee monkey is good advice, I wandered back to where I had left the car and took myself inside the cafe/diner to plan a campaign to secure the heart, mind and body - especially the body - of young, nubile Miss Frobisher.

The eatery was clean and had the usual counter along the far side, fronted by four empty stools with half a dozen Formica topped tables scattered around the main floor area. Just one table being occupied by a pair of geriatric locals.

I collected a cup of coffee from a proprietor who seemed resentful at being disturbed in his contemplation of the racing page from the daily paper, and took a seat to one side of the door. 

Slowly drinking the undistinguished fluid my brain searched for that masterful ploy, that grand scheme or stratagem to make her mine. All to no avail. I could come up with nothing better than finding somewhere to stay overnight and maybe do a little stalking until chance gave me a lead. Of course I could take the direct approach and ask her out to dinner. But, coming from a stranger, the outcome would be very uncertain. It could likely result in an immediate refusal and considerable postponement - if not the end - of any chance of capturing her heart. If I had been a local with the time for a long campaign I might have risked it, but as I was only visiting I needed some other path to her affections. 

Perseverance and determination being often a necessary prelude to success, I invested in another cup of the mediocre liquid and continued to rack my overburdened brain cells. 

I was beginning to despair my lack of inventiveness when a sudden roar of exhausts announced the arrival of a trio of motorcycles to park behind my car. The door bell tinkled and their riders swaggered in. 

Possibly in his late twenties, with long greasy hair tied back in a loose queue, the leader looked somewhat older than the other two. All were dressed in faded jeans and black leather jackets, liberally adorned with a variety of badges; though I could discern no common theme to them. Arrogantly they demanded drinks and expectantly leaned back against the counter as if awaiting some prophesied coming. 

The geriatric couple hurriedly left. It seemed the owner knew these newcomers of old for, having served them, he disappeared to the rear of the diner. As was to prove fortunate, the yahoos appeared to consider me beneath their notice where I sat half hidden behind a rack of picture postcards.

A few minutes and the door flew open. It was my Miss Frobisher being pushed inside by another two droogs! 

She was valiantly trying to resist them, but their grip on her arms was too great and she was forcefully shoved to stand before the leader. He looked her up and down, a satisfied smirk spreading across his thin lips. 

'At last. Miss Busybody come to answer for her sins...' 

'You obnoxious bastard, Shawn Bolger. What right do you have...' Furiously she continued to struggle in the grip of the two punks. 

He reached out and deliberately undid the top two buttons of her blouse. 'I told you...' 

'Don't touch me,' she shrank back as far as her captors would let her.

Ignoring her objections he continued unfastening buttons. '...not to interfere in our affairs.' 

Her blouse was now fully open. He slid it back along and off her arms, dropped it to the floor and set his fingers to fumbling with the fastenings of her skirt. 

'What your sister does is between her and us,' he said as the skirt fell to her ankles, leaving her dressed in only a lace bra and panties.

I couldn't let this go on. But one against five; the odds were too great. Should I go for help?

She was twisting and turning. Trying to pull away. But the thugs holding her arms were too strong. Each had now one hand on her shoulder the other on her wrist. Pulling her arms back and up they forced her to lean toward her tormenter - who produced a knife.

'Your sister pays her way by pulling a train for us...' 

Sliding the knife beneath each of her bra straps in turn, he gave rapid upward yanks, parting them like threads. With the sundered straps dangling he slowly ran the cold blade down the valley between her straining breasts and deliberately cut through the thin material. The ruined garment fell away leaving the twin peaks of her shapely mounds bouncing free.

'... And in return I keep her supplied with smack...' 

The goons eased the pressure on her arms allowing her to stand nearly upright. Defiantly she glared at her tormentor, but couldn't prevent an errant tear from sliding down her smooth cheek to fall onto a full, palm filling boob.

Turning the knife over he slid it down the side of her panties. The thin material split easily. Cutting the other side he pulled the material away exposing a lavish muff and leaving her naked but for her shoes.

An idea! It might work! I reached into the sample case I'd brought with me. Unable to take my eyes from the action I felt around until my fingers closed over the plastic, imitation revolver we had just added to our product line.

He grinned repulsively at her, 'It would be nice if we had the same arrangement with you.' He paused, his smirk broadening, 'First you pull the train, ... You don't know what that is, do you?'

They were fully occupied. The leader with maltreating the woman I wanted, the others in staring expectantly at her enticing, naked body, their jeans bulging obscenely. Careful not to draw attention to myself I stood and eased a pace or two toward them.

'It means we ride you. Each of us in turn. Don't we guys.' With a wide grin he looked around his acolytes. A couple thrust clenched fists in the air.' 

'Never,' the girl gasped.

'A real fun gang bang.' Stained fingers grabbed her left breast and gave it a quick tweak. Making her yelp.

'And when you get as good as your sister you can run the train there and back. On the outward trip we each get to fill your lucky cunt and on the return journey you take it up the arse. And if you're especially good, why you get your reward. A nice, free fix of H.'

Bending slightly I grasped the edge of a table with my left hand and partially supported it with my right - the imitation revolver dangling from two fingers. 

'Couple of hits and in a day or so you'll be begging to amuse us. Just like your sister.' He lowered his hand and rammed a couple of fingers inside her slit.

Using the distraction of her scream, I took another step and heaved the table at the nearest of the captors clutching her arms. It was fairly light and flew high, catching him on the neck and bouncing him onto his fellow. 

Thrusting the fake revolver in the direction of the ceiling I shouted, 'Don't make me use this.'

As the leader's eyes followed my apparent weapon I took a last, long stride toward him and, balancing myself on one leg, I swung my free foot in an arc, just as I had when going for a drop-goal in my rugby playing days. Before he could react the point of my shoe caught him square in the balls. He gave a sharp squeal and doubled up in agony.

My left hand on my fancy's arm I pulled her toward the door, all the while waving the apparent revolver at the remaining louts who stood frozen with surprise.

'Out! Out! In the car!' I bundled the naked and unresistant Miss Frobisher into my MG.

Fortunately the engine was still a fairly warm and fired first time. Foot hard down I accelerated away from the promenade and into the half dozen streets of the town centre.

There was no sign of pursuit - yet. Maybe they wouldn't follow us, but I wasn't going to bet on it.

A quick sideways glance showed my prize crouching low, arms protectively crossed over her full breasts. 'Which way?' I asked.

She turned her head to me. 'What do you mean?'

'Which way to your place?'

She looked ahead then said, 'Left, and follow the road to Broadale. Why?'

'We've got to go somewhere. And that's the safest I can think off. Unless you want to go to the police.'

'No! No police. That's what started this. Left again at that signpost!'

We were now out of the town and I had pushed the speed up hoping I wouldn't meet anything on the bends. Turning the corner she had indicated we were in a typical country lane, just wide enough for one vehicle, with passing places every hundred yards or so. 

A quarter of a mile more then she said, 'There. That caravan.'

With a screech of brakes I stopped. 'That's where you live?'

'It's all we could afford after the house went.'

Sitting in the field between rows of apple trees and an ancient hedge the van was an old, broken down, rusting, touring model that I would have thought was best left to rot. Dismayed I looked around. 'Not much good as a defensive position if, as they probably will, they come after us. Presuming they know where to come.'

'They know all right.'

Questioningly I glanced at her.

'From my sister.'

A brief gust of wind brought the sound of motor cycles.

'Yes, they're coming. No time to wait.' I put my foot down and we sped on up the lane. 'Where does this road go?'

'It loops back and joins the main road to Broadale.'

'Then that's where we're going.'

When the junction appeared I came to a halt, hoping they would stop to check the van and decide we had gone some other way. Turning I leant over the back of my seat and rummaged in my holdall. A quick fumble produced the dark blue, long-sleeved sweatshirt I had packed as a precaution against a change in the weather.

'Here. Put this on. It'll cover all the important bits. Can't have us being stopped and arrested for indecency.'

'I could have got some clothes from the van.'

'No time. They'd have been on us before you got that pretty little frame hidden from view.'

Suddenly she realized I'd had plenty of time to appreciate her naked assets and blushed. 'Thank you.' She slid the sweatshirt over her head.

I studied her. It fitted surprisingly well, though pulling rather tightly across her twin bumps. And while it could have done with being a smidgin longer, it at least covered most of her butt and pussy.

Turning into the main road I set course for Broadale - the main town in this area. The gang would not be sure which way we'd gone so I felt that for the present we were relatively safe. Slowing down a trifle I let a line of vehicles catch up, then slotted inconspicuously into the middle. Driving sedately I could now take time to question my prize. 

'What was all that about?' I asked.

'I'd upset them over my sister, Emma.'

'I rather gathered that. So what did you do?'

'They've been feeding her drugs. Turned her into an addict. So I went to the police. Somehow that bastard, Bolger got to know.'

'And what did the police do?'

'Said they knew, but couldn't do anything without hard evidence. And, anyway, were looking to have Bolger lead them to his supplier.'

I didn't say anything for a mile or two. Just kept checking my mirror to see if we were being followed as well as taking surreptitious glances at her long, elegant legs while recalling those delicious, tip-tilted breasts with their covering of smooth, white skin. I could feel my cock stirring. 

I tried to distract myself. 'What does your sister have to say.'

'She's upset. Contrite. Wants to give up, but can't.'

'What about treatment?'

'The waiting lists are huge unless you've got the cash to go to a private clinic. Which we don't have any longer.'

What could I say to that. I kept what I hoped was a sympathetic silence.

Then she went on, 'We were doing fine. About to take our exams and go on to college. Then our parents were killed in a car smash. A drunken idiot drove them off the road. That was nearly two years ago.'

I glanced at her. She was sitting rigid, hands tightly clasped, eyes closed, tears striping her cheeks and dropping onto those bare, shapely legs.

'We got the money for the house. What there was of it after we'd paid the mortgage off. Looking back we should have spent it on tuition and living expenses until we graduated. But we decided it wasn't enough, left it in the bank, and started looking for work. However, it was early summer and all the seasonal posts had already been filled, and we weren't qualified for anything else.'

'You say we. How old is your sister?'

'Same as me, nineteen. We're dizygotic twins. That means not identical. Though we're sufficiently alike that most people used not to be able to tell us apart. But after what the drugs have done to Emma she looks ten years older. The other day someone thought she was my mother.' 

She pulled the hem of the sweatshirt up and scrubbed the tears from her face, inadvertently giving me a clear look at the dark curls between her slim thighs. It was totally inappropriate, the wrong time, but I felt myself get steel hard. 

'Did you get jobs?'

'I was lucky. The Council had an unexpected vacancy in the Information Centre. It was meant to be a start. Instead things got worse.'

'Oh.'

'I was working the day Emma went out with a crowd. I think one of them must have given her something. That date rape thing.'

'Rhohypnol?'

'That's the one. And when she came round - while she was still confused - gave her something else to get her hooked. Anyway I didn't know anything about it until the money started disappearing to buy her drugs. Soon we were broke and couldn't pay the rent. All we could do was move to that van.'

'Then how does she keep on paying for the drugs?'

'She can't. But that bastard Bolger keeps her supplied. In return she has to give herself to him and anyone he decides to lend her to.' 

I couldn't think of anything to say to that. 

At last we were coming into the outskirts of Broadale and I started looking for a place to stop. It wasn't long before we came to a row of hotels, and then, set back from the road, a motel. Not grand, but it seemed clean, so I pulled in.

'We need a base for the night while we think what to do next. This will do temporarily. Just sit tight.' 

Parking the car where it couldn't be seen from the road I walked to reception and booked a double room. She might not like the idea of sharing but I wasn't letting her out of my sight. At least there were twin beds which might help to reassure her that she had a choice and I was not going to force myself on her.

Inside, she sat on the edge of one of the beds while I dumped my bag on the other. 

'There are soap and towels in the bathroom,' I remarked. 'Why don't you freshen up a bit. Then we can have a council of war.'

She didn't reply and I saw she was silently crying again. Pulling out a handkerchief I gently wiped away the tears. 'It's all right now. We'll get it sorted. I'm not going to let anything happen to you.'

She sniffled a bit, 'Thank you.' And put a hand on my arm.

Spontaneously my arms went around her and pulled her close. My lips found hers and pressed hard. Without planning or thinking - almost inevitably - my hand slid under the sweatshirt and found her breasts. Her head and shoulders fell back onto the bed pulling me with her, pressing her lips to my mouth as hungrily as I was kissing her. Then her legs parted and she raised her knees. She fumbled at my belt.

I lifted my mouth from hers. 'Let me do that,' I said as I tugged the sweatshirt up and, hungry for her, took a nipple between my teeth. 

My belt was swiftly undone and she reached between us to touch and encircle me with her fingers. Trousers and underpants were thrust to my ankles and I was between her thighs. She tossed her head back and pushed her heaving breast against my hot lips. Sliding my hands to her hips I held her as, urgently, she guided my rigid cock to its rightful home.

I thrust hard and deep once, twice, thrice in a white hot burst of passion. My hands were clutching and kneading her tits. She was moaning, her fingers digging into my buttocks urging me ever deeper. 

I had lost control. My hands slid round her waist and down to grasp the cheeks of her arse. I pulled her to me as four, five, six times I hammered into her. I was thrusting frantically. She lifted her legs and locked her heels around my back, her cunni muscles squeezing my shaft hard, urging, demanding me to fill her. Her fingernails raked my back. She bit down hard on my shoulder, stifling her sobs.

We were locked in a storm. We were an inferno of need. Until, simultaneously, we cried out and exploded. 

Trembling with the force of our union, her arms hugged me tight until our pulses slowed and my now limp weapon slid from her. Gently I unwrapped her arms and got to my feet.

As I regained my clothes she said, 'God, what came over me? I've never acted like that before.'

'A delayed reaction to danger. Quite natural and common. In times of trouble our instincts make us look to preserve the species.' I stepped into the bathroom and found a hand towel. Still drained by her outburst of passion she lay still as I cleaned and dried her thighs and belly. Delicately I ran my fingers through the fine hair of her muff.

'You know, over the years I've had my share of women, but I've never found one like you. You really are beautiful.'

'Am I?'


Suddenly



'Yes. And one day soon I'm going to shave you.'

She looked up, accepting my right to take charge of her. 'Are you?'

'Yes. Now I think you should get some rest.' I lifted her legs, eased out the blankets and covered her. 'We're going to get hungry soon, and you're going to need something to wear. So I'll go and see if I can find any shops open.'

'Don't be long . . . Oh!'

'What?'

'I've just realised I don't even know your name. You told me in the office, but I've forgotten.'

'You're right. We never were formally introduced.' 

I stood to attention and bowed 'Miss Frobisher, I'm honoured to present Richard Hope.' 

Then I leant forward, took her hand and brushed my lips across its back.

A small, brave smile flitted across her mouth. 'Pleased, extremely pleased, to meet you Richard. I'm Sara. Without the H.' 

I was reluctant to leave Sara without the H. Not because I felt she was in any immediate danger, and not having any clothes she was unlikely to disappear, but mainly because I sensed she craved comfort and support. But needs must.

Walking toward my car I reviewed the situation. Logic said that the goons would not attempt to find us tonight, but would wait until Sara, and they would presume yours truly, returned to her caravan. But were they rational types - or even that patient? I rather doubted it and must assume that they were even now scouring the town trying to locate us. That meant a low profile was called for. 

I could, of course, just whisk Sara away to distant parts. If I took her to my home they'd certainly be unable to find us. I immediately dismissed that option. She wouldn't agree if it meant abandoning her sister. And forcing her would be a bad way to start what I intended would be a lifetime's relationship.

I'd stumbled into a small war. Right now it was only me against five, however I had a long term advantage over the enemy - the training of a conscientious government, and a number of friends I'd made during my time with the special forces. I had no doubts as to my ultimate victory. However the immediate strategy must be to withdraw - to hide - until I could recruit my former comrades in arms.

Firstly I put the top up on the car. This would help to change it's outline. Then I went looking for a supermarket with a large car park. Two birds with a single stone; for there I would temporarily abandon the one thing they could use to find us, and at the same time stock up with the supplies we needed.

I found what I was looking for a couple of miles up the road. After parking in a far corner, away from the lights, I wheeled a trolley up and down the aisles. 

I was spoilt with choice for food and drink, however their range of women's clothes was somewhat limited. Eventually I settled for a wrap-round skirt and a floppy sweater. Even if my guess at sizes was a bit off, she should be able manage with the aid of the safety pins I added to my hoard. Then I contemplated the underclothes - not that they were essential, but she would probably feel more comfortable. 

My guess was that she was a good C cup but whether that went with twenty eight, thirty or even thirty-four I had no real idea. I could have taken a range of sizes, but that would have been a waste when she didn't really need a bra. Who was I kidding? I just wanted to be able to watch those unfettered puppies gamboling.

However I did check out the panties and this time felt that I could make a good estimate of the correct size. Then I noticed a rack of cheap thongs. Just the thing. I bought half a dozen in each of two sizes. That should keep her content.

With my purchases filling three carrier bags I looked to get back to my, hopefully sleeping, princess. A card pinned over the public telephone at the entrance gave the local taxi number so - abandoning my car as a possible diversion - I summoned one.

Back at the motel I decided that, though we should reclaim Sara's possessions before looking for a method to permanently deal with Bolger and his mates, there was little to be done until morning. Overnight we could relax. And since my need for a campaign to claim Sara for my own had been so serendipitously solved I could fill the time by properly courting her.

The woman of my dreams expressed herself, if not pleased, at least content with my choice of skirt and top. Though she blushed rather becomingly as she inspected the thongs. Since she made no move to try them on, some imp tempted me to pick out a neat red one and suggested she model it for me.

She froze for a moment then smiled shyly and said, 'I suppose you've earned the right. And you won't see anything you haven't already seen.'

Turning her back she slipped it on under the skirt. Pirouetting again to face me, with a doubtful grin she asked, 'How's that?'

'Cheating.'

'You just want to see my boobs and pussy.'

'Who wouldn't? As I recall they were particularly attractive.'

'Ask nicely.'

'Please, dearest Sara without an H, may this poor specimen be allowed to gaze upon the wondrous beauty of your maidenly assets.'

With a brittle laugh, she whipped the top off, let the skirt drop, and struck a pose.

'Thus milord. And doth thou behold anything to suit thy desires.'

There was a touch of hysteria in her fun making. As if she were attempting to hide her continuing apprehension and a dread of the morrow.

I smiled reassuringly and kept my voice low. 'But how could you doubt it. Look what you have done to my needy staff.' Leaning back and spreading my legs I displayed the bulge in my trousers.

She knelt before me as I sat on the edge of a bed, her hand cupping my straining mound. 'Treatment urgently required,' she diagnosed.

'Are you qualified?' I asked.

She scoffed brightly, 'I thought I had already demonstrated my proficiency.'

I hooked my fingers under the sides of her thong. 'Up you come. There is no need to supplicate yourself to me.'

Lifting her with my hands on her hips I guided her to sit beside me. 

'Much as I want you, darling Sara without an H, I think we would be better proceeding slowly. Have some refreshment first. Otherwise we could find ourselves running out of energy halfway through the main event.'

Thoughtfully she looked at me. I could almost see her realising that somehow, without any intention or consultation, she had once more agreed to give herself to a man she barely knew. The fact that, in her distress, she had already let me take her once, was irrelevant.

We ate, sitting beside each other on the bed with my holdall. As a meal it was nothing spectacular. Crusty rolls, a selection of cheeses, fruit to follow and, most important, a bottle of wine to share from the tooth mugs the motel provided. I carefully ensured that she had more than her share of the alcohol. Not with any intention of reducing her will to resist my lusts - for it was clear she had no intention of denying me the pleasures of her fair body - but to warm her, soothe her nerves and help her relax. Any intoxication around was me with her.

We talked and talked, discovering each other. I told her of my time in the Navy and my transfer to the special forces. Incidentally making it clear that I was several years older than she imagined. Not, perhaps, quite enough to be a father figure, but enough for a permanent relationship to require a lot of thought, for though I had every intention of taking her as my woman I did not want her to be under any illusions as to what she was agreeing to.

In return she repeated, in much bitter and painful detail, the story of the death of her parents and the abuse and addiction of her twin. It became clear that our first objective must be to find her sister. She would not be the happy companion I wanted until Emma was cured.

I had taken a last sip of my wine when we stopped talking. In the quiet I reached for her hand. As we touched I felt a surge of electricity. It was time to explore her fully. A time to forego lust in favour of love. Having quickly cleared away the detritus of our meal I took her.

A slow, gentle caress of her cheek and she leans toward me as my lips seek hers . She kisses me as fervently as I kiss her. Our tongues intertwine and dance with each other. Oh, the taste of her. Spontaneously clothes disappear and she is once more open to my fond gaze. It is sacrilege to hide such perfection.

With caressing hands I acquaint myself with her warm and sensual flesh, her soft inner thighs, slim waist, flaring hips, and firm, ivory breasts. Oh, the scent of her. She is what I have dreamt of all my life.

She gives a low moan and her cunni muscles clench my searching finger as my eyes imprint her full lips, high cheekbones, soft jaw and demure smile on my memory. She is special, unique. She has captured my heart, and I am overcome with joy.

She moans with delight as, hands on her hips, I position myself to enter her and impatiently she thrusts up. Slowly, teasingly I slip into her. She locks her ankles behind my back to stop me withdrawing.

Moving only my head I taste her tits, sucking and nibbling on each point in turn. 

She moans, 'Please, get on with it. Take me.'

'Why hurry, we've got all night.'

'Stop teasing you bastard. Fuck me. Now!'

I stay quite still, my tongue playing with a nipple.

With a surprising show of strength she heaves me over and is suddenly on top. Impaling herself on me she starts to rapidly lift up and drop down, using me to find her release. Her effort is brief. With a small cry she comes and falls forward onto my chest.

Now I roll her back again, lift her calves over my shoulders. 'That's what comes of rushing things,' I say, sliding my still iron-hard cock deep into her wet tunnel.

By the time I'm ready to come her cunni is quivering, the pulse in her throat fluttering and she has her nails dug into my shoulders. One final deep, hard thrust and she is over the edge, her joyous shout muffled by my lips. I erupt deep inside her velvet glove.

As I come down to earth it occurs to me to hope she is on the pill or a few thugs might not be all of her problems. I dismiss the query - even if I have fertilised her I will stand by her and willingly accept my responsibilities. 

After that exhaustion claimed us and we never did get round to using both beds.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We woke stiff, both from our exertions and the cramped positions in which we had slept. Lying on my back, her head on my chest and a leg flung over me I decided that next time - and I knew there would be many next times - I would arrange for a double bed. 

I stroked her hair as I pondered our plans for the day.

'Good morning,' she said smiling up at me. 'Don't stop.'

'I wasn't going to.' I gently caressed her soft cheek. 'The last time I felt as happy waking up was as a child on Christmas morning. I could get to make a habit of this. Yes, having you is definitely going to become a habit.'

A glance at my watch showed that we had slept somewhat later than I had intended. Time to get some action. Reluctantly freeing her from my arms I headed for the bathroom. 

We showered together and it took a great deal of self discipline, at least on my part, not to enjoy each other. I made a note that as soon as possible I would have to arrange a session that explored the possibilities of putting together two bodies, water, soap and lust. 

Leaving Sara to gather our bits and pieces I went to the office and checked out. While there I rang the company and told my secretary I wouldn't be in for a day or two; any appointments would need to be rearranged. She wasn't happy when I refused to explain, or to forecast when I would return. Just as well I was a part owner and not an employee.

When I had finished with her I had myself transferred to our finance director and asked him examine the possibility of having a member of staff funded for drug rehabilitation. He seemed to think it might be possible to pass it through the accounts (i.e. fiddle the books) in such a way that the auditors, not to mention the tax man, wouldn't notice.

Carrying our things in a bag each we strolled toward to where I'd left the car the night before. On the way we passed a number of shops selling women's clothes and I suggested she might want to buy something a little different to my efforts of the previous evening.

'If you won't be hurt?' She said.

'Why should I? My wallet can take the odd hit and last evening was a very limited choice. I wasn't too happy myself. It was just the best I could do at the time.'

'Well, in that case. . .'

She decide her immediate need was for a pair of narrow jeans and a bra.

I tried to dissuade her from the latter but she said that although she understood my preference for a lively rack she was going to insist on wearing one - at least when she was out and about - and that in the long run I would appreciate it, for gravity all too soon has its way with a woman's tits. And did I really want her to diminish her tasty treasures earlier than necessary. With that she looked over the stock until she found a compromise in the form of a skimpy, push-up type that helped her premier assets stand high and proud.

I had to give her best and I wasn't too disappointed since - hooray, hooray, oh frabjous day - her remarks suggested she accepted our relationship as being long term.

That left two items for immediate attention; find her sister and collect her belongings from the caravan - there being no way I was going to let Emma remain in the locality, not with Bolger and his minions free to target the girls. As it happened we were able to deal with both together.

But first I realised there was a slight logistical problem. My vintage car being a two-seater, it had what amounted to a boot in which one can store a couple of suitcases or some shopping, but no way could it take a third passenger - or the worldly goods of two young ladies.

Back to the telephone in the store and a hunt for the local car hirer. It seemed at first that we would be unable to find just what I wanted until a passing store detective, seeing me tearing my hair out, suggested a garage on the outskirts of the town. They proved most obliging, not only supplying a ubiquitous white van - which would certainly provide a measure of disguise from Bolger and his minions - but also undertaking to store my vehicle until I could return for it.

The new wheels proved a pain to drive after my MG, as well as being decidedly lumbering - there was no way we would be able to outrun a motorcycle in it. Still, with luck we would be able to avoid Bolger and friends until I could remove Sara - and sister - from the front line and marshal my forces. 

Arriving at the caravan we found a scene of mindless vandalism. In their impotent fury the gang had vented their anger on the twins' home. If it had been decrepit before, it was a disaster area now. They had tipped it on its side, smashing all the windows and attempted to set fire to it. Fortunately they must have moved on before the flames really took hold for there was only a little scorching and smoke damage at one end. 

We stood staring aghast at the damage. Then I noticed a movement in the shadow of the trees to the right. A nearly naked figure stumbled toward us on cheap flip-flops. A badly torn blouse exposed her right breast and nipple, showing she had lost her bra somewhere - presuming, that is, she had been permitted to wear one - and her skirt or jeans had vanished from her white thighs, leaving a dark bush visible through thin panties.

I stood stunned, thinking - I don't know what I was thinking - then realised that this despairing woman was the sister - Emma. Flinging herself into Sara's arms she raised a bruised and tear stained face. 'I thought they'd hurt you. Even killed you,' she sobbed.

'No, I'm fine, Em. Thanks mainly to Richard here. But what happened to you?'

Emma turned toward me and I could see what Sara had meant; that strained and harassed face could have easily been that of her mother.

'Where have you been? They wanted to know who he is and where you could be found. They hurt me. Then they brought me back to...this.' Emma flung an arm toward the devastation.

'That doesn't matter. You're safe with us now.' Sara was calm and collected. Almost the child comforting the adult. 'We have to see what we can rescue and then decide where we are going to live.' 

'The last is already settled,' I interposed. 'You're coming to my place. At least for a while.'

'Where's that?' Emma asked.

'Rillington - only a couple of hour's drive.'

'We can't! We've got to stay here!'

'Now, now, Em. There's nothing to stay here for.' Sara kept trying to placate her twin. Then realisation hit and she turned toward me. 'It's the drugs. If we come with you, how is she going to get her next fix.'

'Must she have one?'

'Yes, she's too far gone to go cold turkey. She tried that some time back and it was just too horrible.'

'I'll see what I can do about it. Though it'll have to be later since we better not hang around here too long in case they return. Why don't you see if it's possible to recover anything from that mess. And also find something for Emma to wear.'

Pulling out my mobile 'phone I dialed our company doctor. As I did so I watched Sara settle Emma on a dry patch of turf by the entrance to the field. She then went back to the caravan and carefully removed the glass shards from the end window and wriggled inside.

After the usual delay I finally got to talk to our medical sage and explained the situation. He talked round the subject, tried to impress me with how difficult it all was, but when he was assured that somehow the money would be found, agreed that it was possible. If I drove Emma directly to his surgery he would be able to prescribe enough replacement drugs to hold her until the local centre could start her treatment.

Assuring him that we would be arriving early that afternoon I rang off and turned to see Sara, hair in disarray and covered in dust, clamber out of the caravan pulling a large suitcase after her.

'Luckily we kept most of the important papers in a folder under the front seating,' she said. 'All I'm missing is the stuff in my handbag which got left in the Tourist Information Centre when Bolger's minions grabbed me.'

'Right. We'll collect that on our way. Anything else in the bag?'

'A couple of photo albums with pictures of our parents and a few clothes. The rest can be left.'

'Good. I'll sling that in the back of the van if you can organise Emma. She's not to worry. I've arranged for the company doctor to be waiting for us when we arrive, and he's organising a place in a specialist treatment centre. All she has to do is agree to be treated.'

'She'll do that all right, or I'll bash her head in.'

'That's not very sisterly.'

'When she couldn't help herself I stood by her. Now it's her turn to do what's right.'

'Okay. I'll leave her to you. If you can, put some clothes on her and climb aboard the exodus express.'

Emma settled in the back we drove down the road toward the town. As we went I asked Sara, 'Is it just your handbag we need to collect? How did you normally travel into town?'

'We had a couple of old push-bikes. Goodness knows where Emma's is and mine's at the Information Centre - or was when last seen.'

'Want to take them with us?'

'Not much point. They're about ready for the scrap heap. What I'd like to do with mine is wrap it round that manager's neck as I tell him where to put his job.'

'I thought you worked for the Council?'

'Yes, but I was still on probation and whether I was retained depended on the manager's assessment.'

'It doesn't sound as if you expected it to be found suitable.'

'Oh, he made it clear I would be satisfactory, that is as long as I continued to put out for him. Otherwise. . .'




Suddenly



'One of those bastards, is he?'

'Yes. I was a virgin until I started there. I held out when he first hit on me but when we became desperate for the cash and it was too late to look for something else I had to let him have his way. If I'd continued refusing he would have sacked me without a reference at the end of the season. I had no option.'

'Right. we'll sort him out.'

There was no sign of Bolger and his minions when we arrived at the sea-front promenade and parked outside the Information Centre. I let Sara lead the way inside.

Behind the counter was a balding, scrawny individual. Ignoring me he glared at Sara. 'You're late, Frobisher. And you didn't lock up last night. You'll be out on your ear if it happens again. Now get the post sorted.'

'Excuse me,' I said.

He turned his attention to me. 'How can I help you, sir.'

'An apology to Miss Frobisher would help. Though it will barely begin to make amends, it might show willingness to improve.'

'I don't follow, sir.'

'I had a slight suspicion that Miss Frobisher was exaggerating in describing how objectionable you are. I can see that, if anything she understated and you really are a most contemptible person.'

'Wha. . .' He started to bluster.

I glanced at Sara, 'Got your things, dear?'

'Yes, Richard.' 

'Go and open the back door of the van for me. We'll follow you out.' 

I vaulted the counter and, before the manager could move clamped his arm and twisted it up behind his back.

'What do you think your doing? Let me alone.' His voice became muffled when I grabbed a T-shirt labelled "A Present From Seadown" off a display stand and rammed it in his mouth.

Pulling his arm higher I ran him out of the door and round to the rear of our wheels. 

'Emma go and sit in the front with Sara.' I commanded.

'You get in!' I yanked the man's arm. 'And don't even think of . . . or I'll use this.' I pulled the imitation revolver from my pocket and waved it in his face. He blanched. Imitation or no it was doing its job.

'Sara, you drive. Not too fast. I'll give you directions.' 

I climbed in the back beside our prisoner. 'You, keep quiet. I've still got the gun.'

Sara took us at a sedate pace out of town and into the country lanes. After a few random turns we came upon an overgrown area with a footpath winding into a small wood. 'This will do,' I said.

Parked, I ordered the manager out and stood him beside the car. 

'Drop them,' I ordered.

Puzzled, he stared at me. 'What?'

'Your trousers... and your underpants. Lose them... NOW!'

I waved the imitation revolver at him. 'You thought you could abuse and force a vulnerable girl to whore for you. Well it's payback time - "for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap". Go and look it up.' 

He trembled, 'Don't shoot me.'

'That's what you deserve. But not right now. The courts don't like us taking justice into own hands. '

Shaking he removed his lower garments. It didn't look right so I had him strip completely except for his shoes. Then I collected all his clothes and threw them in the back of the vehicle saying, 'If you want to see these again, check the scarecrows. And I'll be ensuring your employers are made aware of your management techniques. In the meantime this little lesson will serve as a warning.'

Moving Sara over I slid into the driving seat and pulled away leaving him standing naked by the road side, his limp cock and balls dangling for all the world to see.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The trip back to my home town went smoothly and inside a couple of hours I was shepherding Emma into the doctor's surgery. By this time her twitches displayed the beginning of a need for fix. However she said nothing and showed a commendable strength of character in attempting to fight her addiction.

A few quick questions; a dose of methadone to ease her symptoms and the company doctor was arranging for her admission to a treatment centre in the next town. We could have requested an ambulance, but Sara wanted to stay with her sister for as long as possible so we ferried Emma to the centre ourselves and saw her settled.

'Stage one complete,' I remarked as we returned to the car and joined the traffic. 

'What now?' Sara said. 'I feel dull, stale and exhausted.'

'We need to organise somewhere for you to stay.'

'I thought I was going to stay with you?'

'You can if you wish. But it's only a one bed bachelor flat.' I crossed my fingers and prayed she'd say "yes".

'So what. You think I'm going to let you out of my sight?'

'Right, that's decided. Now, if you can bear with me for a little longer while I call into the office I'll swap this lump of tin for a company car and arrange for it to be returned and my MG brought back.'

'You won't be long?'

'Well, I'm sure Catherine - that's my secretary - will try to pin me to my desk, so if you come with me it'll help me escape.'

'And then?'

'Ah! I have plans. Things to do.'

'Such as?'

'Firstly I need to deal with this ache you've given me between my legs - a short, sharp, shafting should suffice for present. Though when we're settled I'm going to ride you properly and then bath you. After which, while you're all wet, I'm going to shave you where it matters. Once I have you nice and clean and smooth all over I intend to spend some time - probably a lot of time - exploring you. Getting to know what turns us on and which of the Kama Sutra positions suits us best.'

'Sounds a rather lengthy task.'

'Could last a lifetime, but I aim to have the basics complete within a few days and then we can make our final arrangements.'

'What for? Sorry, "for what" is grammatically correct I believe.'

'Not only a pretty face, but a brain to boot.'

'Flattery will get you anything.'

'All I want right now is between your legs.'

'Typical male. A one track mind. Anyway, come on, give. Arrangements for what?'

'Our wedding.'

'Oh! ... I don't recall being asked if I would marry you.'

'You weren't.'

'Well, shouldn't you ask me first?'

'If you want me to, but it won't make any difference. I decided yesterday that I was going to make you my wife.'

'Did you now.'

'Yes, and I notice you haven't said "no".'

'I need time to think about it.'

Turning into a side road I parked the car in front of a large Victorian house. 'My flat's in here. You can have until we get inside to reach a decision. Though I'm not accepting anything less than a rapturous "yes".'

Leading the way into my small, garden flat I showed Sara around. 'Living room, kitchen, bathroom and this is the bedroom. Enough for me and we should be able to get by for a month or two while I sort out something more suitable.'

'A palace compared with what Emma and I have had for the last year.'

'You've made your decision then?'

'What is it that the writers say - "don't tell - show".' 

Reaching out she slid a finger into the waistband of my trousers. 'Come here.' Pulling me close her open lips found mine in a tentative kiss that told me she wasn't as self-assured as she was pretending. 

Our tongues probed and danced. My breathing quickening, my hands moved round to her back and slid down to her butt, clasping her firm cheeks and pulling her close. She gently nibbled my lower lip as my hands roamed lightly over her curves, caressing and exploring, their touch making her shiver.

Her kisses became impassioned. Feverishly her fingers unfastened my shirt buttons. I responded by slipping my hands under her floppy sweater. The shirt open, she pulled the tails free from my jeans, slid it along my arms and away. Tilting her head back she let me lift the sweater over her head and unhook that damned bra. Soft, ripe breasts filled my palms and my hot lips found a hard nipple. I could sense the urgency growing in her. Her small hands found the belt of my trousers, undid the buckle, began to lower the zip.

'Is this the answer I want, or are you just desperate for my magnificent body?' I asked.

'Both.' Her voice was a low moan. She was in no mood to play. ' Please, I want you inside me. Take me now!'

Jerking my jeans and underpants down my legs to the floor she rapidly had me naked. She joined me with a quick flick of her skirt's catch, which fell to top the pile of our clothes, and a frantic shove of her thong down those sexy legs.

Urgently we pressed our naked bodies together. I sensed waves of desire rushing to her wet cunni; her need for me seemed almost inexhaustible as I nuzzled her neck; my gentle hands cupping her tender tits; thumbs brushing hard nipples.

Her fingers found my rock-hard cock. Slowly they caressed, then lightly stroked me until I was throbbing. Then, one hand firmly grasping my length, she led me to the bed. Lying above me, her head between my legs, she enveloped me with a hot mouth, taking me to a world of pleasure.

My right hand stroking and rubbing her nipple, I slid the left down to explore her inner thigh and with incisive fingers parted the wet lips of her furrow, pushing the middle one into her moist warmth. She groaned with pleasure and bit my ear.

Pushing me on my back she straddled me, knee walking up my body until her pendent tits were brushing my chest. Reaching between our sweating bodies she recaptured my cock and guided it to her warm, moist pussy then, sitting back, positioned its tip at her entrance while I caressed the smooth flesh of her inside her legs, my thumbs finding and parting her juicy lips. Slowly she impaled herself. 

Rocking back and forth she grabbed my wrists and pushed my arms up high. Leaning forward she first pressed her hot lips to mine then raised her torso slightly to dangle her luscious tits in front of my face. I did as I was bid and sucked them - hard. 

She pushed down and then rose up, lost in the greatest pleasure known to woman, groaning with joy, wanting it to last for ever. Quickly the pressure built, my cock straining and throbbing. My fingers clasping her hips urging her upright. 

She cried out, 'Yes! Yes! Yesss,' as her contractions ripped an explosive release from my shaft.

Her rhythm slowed to a halt. Her body relaxing, my limp cock slid from her. She sighed and collapsed on top of me. 

Her head resting on my shoulder I said, 'I take it the answer is "yes".'

'Oh, yes, yes, yes,' she gasped. 'Did you have any doubts after all the hope you've given both me and Emma?'

'Not really. But I had to give you the chance to say "no".' I wrapped my arms about her and held her tight, 'In the past I've had some agreeable answers to my questions, but never one as enjoyable as that.' I said.

'There's plenty more where that came from.'

'I should hope so.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next two months were busy ones. Introducing Sara to my family; rebuilding her wardrobe; organising our nuptials; frequently visiting Emma to provide support as she gradually got clear of the drugs. But principally house hunting. Not just for us, but also for Emma - once she had fully recovered - since both Sara and I were agreed that she could not be cast aside to live alone.

The arrangements for the wedding assumed greater urgency after a few weeks when Sara happily announced that she was pregnant. So with all that was going on I had to put the problem of what to do about Shawn Bolger on the back burner for a while, though whenever something brought him to mind I remained determined that he should pay for his sins. However it wasn't until Sara and I returned exhausted from our extended honeymoon that I could find the energy to formulate a plan.

In my first, hot blooded, desire for revenge I had considered removing this blot on humanity altogether. And I still felt this was the most appropriate action. Not just for punishment, but also to protect others, since I couldn't see anything else that would prevent him continuing his damnable trade. Nor - not being of a lily-livered, liberal persuasion - would I have any trouble carrying out the deed myself. But my new responsibilities dictated caution. For our sophistical and ineffectual legal system that insists it, and only it, can dispense justice places the well being of the criminal above that of the victim and would label any attempt to impose my own punishment as vigilantism. I could well finish up being myself charged with some crime. However, I concluded that since they had so far shown no inclination to act it was up to me - and some friends - to find some way to fix him once and for all.

I used the problem as an excuse to look up several comrades from my time with the special forces. Their offers of help were unanimous, but we got no nearer a satisfactory plan until Dave Stock had a brain wave. 

We started straight away. Over the next five or six weeks Dave himself, along with Edgar Lumb and Rik Manly, visited Seadown to familiarise themselves with the lie of the land. After which they established themselves with Shawn Bolger as occasional customers by making purchase or two. Incidentally becoming familiar with his routine.

Once we had enough intelligence we fixed a date when we could all be available at the same time. A weekend toward the end of the holiday season was agreed on and each of us booked accommodation in a different hotel or guest house in the next resort along the coast for, although we should be inconspicuous amongst the last of the holiday crowds, who knew what might go wrong; thus it would pay for us to appear unconnected.

Despite my objections that we mustn't risk the baby, Sara was adamant that she be included. If not to assist, at least to observe Bolger getting a taste of his own medicine. 

He had himself well organised. Of an evening he would station himself in the far corner of a large supermarket car park - his motorcycle positioned for a quick get away. A minion positioned well up each of the approach roads, mobile phone at the ready, watched for any sign of the law. His other two henchmen were sited one at the entry and the other at the exit of the car park. 

A customer would pause at the entry and place his order with the yob stationed there. Having confirmed the transaction by paging Bolger, the thug would demand the required cash, which he then whisked away to a safe cache. The customer would drive around to the exit and collect the gear from the other bullyboy, who had been passed it by Bolger. It was neat since no one individual had both money and drugs and, except for Bolger himself - who if need be could quickly vanish - not enough merchandise to be charged with dealing.

We decided to go directly for Bolger, ignoring his henchmen, on the assumption that they would flee the scene rather than attempt to assist their boss.

We timed our assault for the late evening, customers being sparse both for the supermarket and for Bolger. On foot, Rik and Edgar moved unobserved to position themselves in the shadows either side of our target. I was in the driving seat of a rented mini-van, with Sara beside me to observe events and Dave in the back ready to leap out and tackle Bolger. A simple,uncomplicated plan with little to go wrong.

When Rik and Edgar signalled they were all set I drove steadily into the car park and straight across the asphalt and stopped in front of Bolger. We had him surrounded.

Alarmed, he turned to mount his motorcycle. With Rik and Edgar moving to cut off any chance of his escape, Dave jumped out and tackled him. Desperately he tried to push past them but Dave caught his arm, twisted it behind his back and straight away had him effectively subdued in an arm lock. 'If you don't want to get hurt you will do as we say,' I told him, joining the action. 'Into the van, and sit on your hands.'

His minions have vanished at the first sign of trouble it was four against one, so he had no option but to comply. Once seated the Rik, Edgar and Dave climbed in after him and I pressed the remote locking on the doors.

He got his breath back, 'Who are you? What do you want? You can have all the gear in my bag.' 

'Not interested. Look at who's sitting in front of you.' I briefly flicked on the interior light.

He stared at Sara, seeming to dwindle in size. No doubt he had felt he could bargain his way out of a confrontation with a rival gang but realised that we were a different proposition.

'I haven't done anything to you. Anyway I was only meeting a demand. . .' he started to bluster.

'Shut up! We're not here to discuss your crimes. Just execute your sentence.' 

I turned on the car radio. The thumping bass from a rock station would drown any protests he might try to make. 

Gesturing to the others I said, 'Gentlemen you may begin.'

They each produced the various purchases they had made on their previous visits. He tried to resist, but fingers pinching his nose he had to open his jaw to breathe. Head forced back, mouth wide open, he was made to swallow the twists of powder.

Nobody said anything. We just sat there and gave him a minute to recover, then I unlocked the doors and Rik pushed him out. As he collapsed in a heap on the asphalt I started the engine and we drove away.

Later, satisfied with a job well done, we had a small celebration in a local hostelry. Dave, who liked the occasional flutter, opened a book on the results of our poetic justice. Had we made him an addict as he had done so many others; had we given him a fatal overdose; or would he be tempted to ride his motorcycle in a drugged stupor and crash. Or maybe we had got it wrong and he would weather our punishment and survive unscathed.

A few days later I heard that Edgar had won our little sweepstake. Subject to the verdict of the coroner's inquest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Epilogue

During the fifteen months or so since I found Sara, Hope and Sons has been through a bout of expansion and I've been kept fairly busy earning our bread. However things are starting to quieten down and I feel able to return to my previous leisurely approach to business. Thus today I arrive at our isolated country home in time for a late lunch. Garaging the car I wander round to the large secluded garden.

As she often does when the weather is warm and sunny, Sara is sitting on a rug in the middle of the lawn playing with the result of what I fondly maintain was that first night together.

My lady wears no clothing - a habit I encourage for it would be sacrilege to cover up that beautiful body - which induces me to pause in the shade of the veranda and admire her pleasing sunlit curves and shadowy hollows. Lust once more has me in its grasp as I step down onto the grass.

I try to creep up on them but Jonathon sees me and waves both pudgy arms.

'Hello, darling,' Sara says.

'Hello, wife,' I plant a kiss on her cheek.

'What are you proposing to do this afternoon?'

I grin, 'You to start with.'

'Oh, goody,' she says. 'But later, after I've persuaded your son to take his afternoon nap.'

I point to the bulge in my trousers. 'This won't wait. What do you suggest I do with it?'

'Emma's upstairs impatient for it. Only this morning she complained she wasn't getting her fair share. I disputed the point, but I'm afraid she may be right; you take me more than you do her.'

'Which is as it should be. You're my first wife, she's my unofficial second.'

'Perhaps, but she's still somewhat mixed up. She realises she owes you for saving her from the dreaded drugs but doesn't know any other way to reward you. You know what it's like, if people think they're in your debt and can't repay you then they come to resent you.'

'Yeah, that's why the government prefers to give overseas aid in the form of loans rather than straight grants.'

'Right darling, so what are you waiting for? Go and give her a good hard shafting. She'll thank you for it.'

'You're still sure you don't mind?'

'No. How often do I have to tell you, I look upon it as part of her therapy. She needs a man. Better you than some macho type who might again lead her astray.'




Suddenly



When I opened the door to the second bedroom Emma is staring out of the window into the garden quietly squeezing her left breast. Turning toward me she opens her bath robe and lets it slip from her shoulders. My gaze trails over her lips, her throat, her breasts, her mound. She is ready for me.

'Here at last,' she says. 'Come and take me. Hard.'

'I intend to.' I gently cup her chin with one hand lifting her mouth toward mine.

Slowly my lips claim hers while my other hand finds her hip then slides round to flatten against her swelling belly. Her soft curves mould to my immediate hardness. Sara, with her strong, yet tender and selfless character, is the woman of my affections; yet when it comes to lust - and it frequently does - I find Emma equally arousing.

Stepping back and unbuttoning my shirt I ask, 'How's the fruit of our pleasure progressing?'

'Nicely. They say it's a girl.'

'That's great. A boy from wife number one and a girl from wife number two. There's a balance in that.'

My hand in the middle of her back I guide her to the bed and helped her to kneel in the middle. Better avoid the missionary position until after the happy event. As, my hands on her hips, I insert myself into her, I wonder how long I will possess the stamina to keep both my women content

END 



Suddenly...



I'd wanted him so long it felt as though my feelings must be affecting him. Every night I thought of him- soft thoughts at first- him telling me how he felt about me, how much he loved me, kissing me and stroking my face. Then the nighttime would get to me, infiltrate me. 

I imagined how it would feel to press myself close against him whilst we kissed, his tongue hard and insistent in my mouth, his hands cupping my buttocks and pulling my hips towards him, my breasts crushed against his chest as I wrapped my arms about his neck. I felt the tingling, seeping wetness between my thighs and I wanted him so much as I put my hand there and touched myself in circles until I came with a shuddering suddenness that didn't satisfy me.

We'd met a few months ago through a mutual friend and I found his rumpled brown curls and gleaming grin instantly attractive, how could I not? He was no gym buff, but his body was hard and solid, with broad shoulders and a nice round bum. I smiled up at him every few minutes and blushed when he spoke to me, I must have been so pathetically obvious to him and everyone else there. He did kiss me, briefly, but passionately, in the car park of the pub at the end of the evening, I got all excited and went home with a happy grin on my face, but the whisky taste of his mouth should have been a warning – I was just a drunken mistake. 

In the time I have known him, Nick and I have grown closer and closer. We speak most evenings on the Internet or the phone and see each other once or twice a week at the cinema or the pub. Once we even went out to dinner and I felt thrills of excitement run through me whenever our feet touched under the table. I put my hand on his leg when he was driving me home and gently rubbed my fingers across the tender inner part of his thigh, but he didn't react in any way except to smile sadly and I pulled my hand back and folded myself into my seat, whilst keeping up an act of merry cheeriness that I found exhausting. 

He's been away these last couple of weeks. So have I and I haven't seen him for a little over a month. My attraction to him has become almost obsessive and it has been so hard to stop myself calling or texting him every second of the day. He is always present in my thoughts and, like I said before, it seems so hard to believe that such prolonged and intense sexual thoughts haven't somehow reached him and made him feel the same towards me.

I dress myself carefully, I am seeing him this evening and I know the impression I make must be just right. I pick out a pair of white net knickers that ride low on my hips and tie at the sides with thin, silky ribbons. They manage to look naughty and virginal at the same time and I find the fact that they could be ripped off with just 2 sharp tugs to the bows an incredible turn on. A white, lace bra that supports my naturally large breasts so they appear as two full globes over the top of my low cut, white t-shirt and a tight denim skirt with a bright pink belt to add some colour. 

I dry my hair so it looks come-to-bed messy and put on blusher and mascara. I want to look natural, sexy and as if I hadn't bothered to make any effort at all. As soon as I see him this impression is blown to hell. My face flushes deeper pink than any blusher could make it and I stammer my hellos – he has a girl with him. 

I smile politely at her and feel my heart sinking. Soon two more of our friends turn up and as I chat, brightly false, to one of them I discover that she is an ex. I feel my whole body relax suddenly and grin at Nick with a smile so wide it nearly split my face. He smiled back and instantly my mind switched into fantasy mode – He is between my legs, looking up at me mischievously while his fingers push inside me and his tongue flickers across my swollen, sensitive clit. I can feel my eyes glazing over and the moisture flooding my pussy again, my lips are dry and as I run my tongue over them I notice Nick watching me and his face is tense and flushed. Our eyes meet and I smile nervously, but he just looks at me with this hungry intensity and I know that now he wants me. 

Still I am unsure and I am unsurprised when he breaks the eye contact and starts to type a text out on his mobile. I pick up my drink and gaze at the bottom of the glass dispiritedly, it's lemonade. I can't even get drunk because I have to drive myself home. Suddenly my handbag buzzes quietly against my ankle. I reach down and pull out my mobile : 1 new message. Unknowing I slowly flick through the menus to read the message and I'm utterly unprepared for the simple missive from Nick, who I now see is rising from the wooden pub bench and saying his farewells. "Your car in 5 minutes."

I start and look at him, astonished, but he will not meet my eyes as he walks off. I wait anxiously for the time to pass, then grab my bag and jacket and scurry for the car park. It is like the first time we kissed. My back against the cold, dampness of my car, his arms warm around me and his lips eager against mine. He wants me. We get in and I drive to his house, his hand on my knee, his little finger stroking the soft skin of my inner thigh. 

It feels strange to be the one desired, to be on the receiving end of this seductive attention, but I enjoy it so much. I feel the fabric of my knickers sticking to me with my moisture and even my thighs seem damp at the top. My lips and nipples feel engorged and so sensitive and I tremble at the thought of his lips on mine again, his hands touching my body. We get out of the car slowly, I cannot believe that I am going to have the man I have lusted after for so long, so I move cautiously, wary of his seemingly sudden change of heart.

We go up to his room and he puts some slow, but passionately intense acoustic music on and my heart leaps, strangling my breath and making me gasp. He is by my side almost instantly and I am jolted with electricity when he takes my face between his hands and lowers his mouth onto mine. No bruising eagerness here, but a sensual, exploratory gentleness, his tongue probing softly between my lips, his fingers stroking my neck and tangling in my hair, feeling its silkiness carefully. Gradually I become more bold and start caressing him in return, I open my mouth more widely for him and suck his tongue into my mouth, flicking it with the tip of my own. I feel his erection hard against my belly as we press together and it arouses me even more than I am already. 

I pull at the hem of his t-shirt, trying to tug it over his head, but reluctant to break away from the kiss. He helps me, then reaches down to pull my own shirt off me and I stand with arms upraised, admiring his pale skin and the light smattering of dark hairs that pattern his chest as he appraises my own honey tanned flesh, the white lace cupping my heavy breasts enticingly. He walks round so that he is standing behind me and carefully unclasps my bra, pushing the straps off my shoulders and down my arms. I gasp as I feel it falling away and my nipples harden slightly in the cool night air. He smoothes his hands lightly down my back, then around my rib cage, the backs of his hands brushing the undersides of my breasts. His thumbs move up and stroke the sides, where the flesh is tender as it runs into the underneath of my arms, then I shudder and lean back against him as his palms cup the heavy weight of my breasts and caress my nipples. I can feel the heat of his body against my back and surrender utterly to the delight of being touched by him. 

I turn around and my blue eyes meet his hazel ones as I slowly reach down to his waist and unbutton his fly. I push the lightweight canvas trousers and they slither to a puddle on top of his trainers which he steps out of as I take his hands to lead him to the bed. He stands beside the bed, his tight underpants showing me very clearly how hard he is. I hook my fingers into the waistband and pull down, fumbling slightly to free him from the clinging jersey cotton. Soon he is completely naked in front of me and I am awestruck by the beauty of him as I kneel at his feet. 

He mutters, hoarsely, to tell me to take my skirt off and I stand, unsteadily in front of him as I teasingly undo it and slide it slowly down my thighs. His eyes widen as he sees the ribbon ties and the misty translucence of the sheer panties, but he says nothing and I step towards him and press on his shoulders so he is seated on the edge of the bed, then I kneel between his knees. 

I bend down and kiss the tip of his stiff and throbbing erection and then I look up and stare at him as I lick my way around the top and flick my tongue against the underside of his penis. He starts breathing heavily and puts his hands lightly on the back of my head, wanting to pull me down onto him. I tease him a little longer, brushing the ends of my hair against his thighs, admiring the dark gold ripples against his creamy skin, then I open my mouth and allow the entire length of him deep into my mouth. I suck hard, rippling my tongue against him as I pull his testicles and rub at the sensitive little spot just behind them. I pull back slightly and allow the head of his dick to slide quickly in and out between my lips. The pressure of his hands on my head increases and he starts swearing- exclamations of surprise and pleasure

and I am pleased I give him so much pleasure. He stops suddenly and pulls me off him, yanking me to my feet as he stands. "When I come, I want to be inside you" he says as he leans down to kiss me and grasps the ends of the ribbons firmly in his fingers. He steps back as he tugs sharply and I moan as he pulls the damp, flimsy material between my legs. Gently he lays me on the bed and takes one nipple in his mouth as he slides his hand up the silky skin of my inner thigh and runs one finger up the outer lips of my sex. I open my legs wider to him and arch my back as I push my hips upwards, I want him to touch me so much, especially as he thrusts his tongue between my lips and reminds me of the joy of penetration. 

He smiles into my mouth as he feels the slippery, heated wetness of me and smiles even harder at the groan that escapes my lips when he slides his middle two fingers slowly into the grasping, hungry hole at the centre of me. I can feel his fingers curling inside me and caressing that magical spot which turns me to liquid when it is touched. 

He starts fucking me with his fingers, thrusting them into me faster and faster and we both watch as I move my hand down and start stroking my clit in little, frantic circles in time with his thrusting.

I come in heaving, shuddering waves, my legs and stomach tense and stiff with the agony of ecstasy. I moan his name in broken gasps and whimpers and feel tears of pleasure trickle from my eyes as he kisses me.

But he's not finished.

Already he is stroking my thighs and belly again, caressing me, making me feel warm and loved. At first I think this is some kind of post-play, his alternative to cuddling, but he keeps going. Down the outside of my thighs, then up the inside, stopping short at my pussy, then stroking up my belly, around my breasts in a figure of eight, then back down. The more he does this the close he gets to my still-throbbing pussy and to my hardening nipples.

Incredibly I am already starting to feel turned on again. I open my eyes and try to control my breathing as I look up at him. He knows I'm aroused again, he's holding his dick in one hand, squeezing its hard length as he devours my body with his gaze.

Holding eye contact he climbs above me, still holding his thick cock in his hand. Watching my face closely he slides it up and down my slit, bumping against my sensitive little clit with the tip, driving me crazy with longing for his cock.

He holds it poised over my opening, just nudging it in a miniscule amount, stretching the entrance. It is so tantalising – so frustrating. I try tilting my hips and thrusting upwards, but he just pulls away, so I have to lie there just waiting.

Slowly, slowly he eases his way in and I savour every incremental advance. I sigh as he plunges in the last few inches. What a heavenly sensation to be filled like this, to be pleasured by this man I had wanted so long.

He is still looking down at me and, as we make love – for it is more than just a quick fuck – he smiles slowly and sweetly and tells me how he feels. How much he loves me and how he was so stupid not to tell me sooner.

The pace increases now, our breathing heavy as our bodies move together, he is thrusting harder and faster and his face is flushed as he tenses with the release of orgasm. I come too, as I feel his hot juices filling me up. Our eyes are still locked as we shudder to a halt and I take a deep breath in... and open my eyes to my own walls, my own bed. Sleepily I slide my hand down to my wet pussy and begin to stroke it, every detail of the dream still clear in my mind.



Suddenly Gay



I recently rejoined the single world, after my wife left me for another man. (Good luck to ya, pal!) I went out to all the usual haunts, met all the same people, and did all the same things that everyone does when they are single. After a couple of months of that, I decided I wanted something different.

Years earlier, when I was in high school, a friend of mine had introduced me to gay sex. I had spent the night at his house, and his parents were sound asleep upstairs. We were lying on the floor in his den, watching the usual Cinemax soft-core crap. My cock was harder than I could ever remember it being before, maybe because of the novelty of someone else in the room with me. We laughed about the movie, and then he shocked the hell out of me by leaning over and kissing me.

I was shocked, but instantly curious. My sexual experience at that point was minimal…okay, non-existent. Even though I had never thought about sex with a guy, it was a chance that I wasn’t going to give up. When he leaned in to kiss me again, I kissed him back. Our tongues danced, and his hands quickly made it down to my hard cock. I was so horny I almost came right then and there, but he must have sensed it, because he pulled back. 

Taking my hand, we moved upstairs to his bedroom, and locked the door behind us. He quickly took me into his arms and kissed me again, running his hands down my body. He pushed my shorts off, exposing my body to the night air. Quickly stripping down himself, he lowered me down to the bed, and took my cock in his hands again.

Stroking me gently at first, he slowly brought me to the edge of orgasm, and backed away. He shifted his body so we were in a side-by-side 69, and I saw the first hard cock that wasn’t mine. I tried to do for him what he did for me. I touched and teased his prick, rubbing the pre-cum all over the tip. He moaned for me to suck it for him, that he wanted to be in my mouth so bad, so I did. I wasn’t sure what to do, but he knew. His cock thrust in and out of my mouth, slowly and gently. At the same time, he started to suck my cock. 

We 69’d for a while, when he pulled away from me.  I thought I was doing something wrong, but he quickly moved back between my legs and started to lick my asshole. 

I thought I would die right there, it felt so hot!

He licked and teased me for a while, getting my hole wet and loose. All at once, I felt him pushing his cock against my asshole, trying to make entry. I relaxed as best I could, and he suddenly made full penetration.

We laid there for a moment, his cock buried to the hilt in my virgin ass, giving me time to get used to the feeling, before he slowly pulled back. Just before he would have come free, he drove it back in, making me shudder all over again. The more he did this, the better it felt to me, and the more I wanted him to do it to me. He was getting faster and faster, really slamming it home in me. I felt his body tense up, and he drove one last time into my ass. I could feel his cock twitch and spasm, and feel the wetness of his hot cum filling me up. 

We lay that way for a few minutes, and then he rolled off to the side, and pulled free. I could feel his cum running out my ass, and reached down to feel it. He took my cum-covered fingers and raised them to his mouth, sucking them clean. He then moved back down to my ass, sucking all of his cum out. His hands were stroking my cock, and I quickly felt an explosion building. Without breaking stride, he swallowed my cock, drinking every last drop of cum I had to give him. 

We lay there for a while, not really knowing what to do, or say to each other. Finally, as morning approached, he whispered in my ear…

“One more time?”

I nodded my head, and turned to kiss him again.

He moved his body on top of mine, so that our cocks were grinding together. His hard ass felt so good in my hands, and I knew I wanted to try him out.

I rolled him off of me, and kissed and licked my way down his body. Once I got to his cock, I ran my tongue down the shaft to his tight balls, and went right past to his hole. My tongue made contact, and he jumped with pleasure. I pushed his legs in the air, and really went to town, probing and pushing my tongue into his ass. Before long, he was begging me to put my cock there.

I teased him by pushing my cockhead against his ass, then pulling away. After I did this a few times, he reached down as I touched his ass, and pulled me toward him. All at once, my cock was deep inside his ass. I groaned, loving the tight feel of it. He pushed me back and forth, giving me a rhythm to follow as I fucked him. He stroked his cock as we fucked, and his face was full of lust and excitement.

Before long, I felt my cock swell with the beginnings of an eruption, and he knew this, because he pushed me back, and pulled off of my cock. Turning himself around, he swallowed my cock and really gave it a workout.

Just as the first wad flew, he pulled free and let it splash all over his face. My cum was dripping off his nose, and he was loving every second of it. I pushed him down and kissed him deeply, smearing the cum between us, as my hands jerked him off. I felt his cock twitch, so I moved down to do the same for him. I let his cum cover my face, and rubbed his cock all over me.

He pulled me up, and we kissed, then licked each other clean. I never thought I would love the taste of cum quite so much, but I was hooked.

At last, we settled down to sleep. I lay beside him, drifting slowly off, when he leaned over and whispered in my ear once again.

“Our little secret?”

I nodded sleepily, smiling my way to a contented sleep.



Suddenly I See



I'm sitting in a coffee shop on 98th Street, just taking a break between grocery shopping and picking up the dry-cleaning to have a hot drink, when she walks past me. I barely even notice her at first, other than to think that her outfit really isn't suited to the early spring chill. But then she sits down a few tables away, facing me, and the way her legs are angled reveals just a little bit of her thigh underneath her skirt, and it hits me. I should be down there.

It's a perfect mental image, so real that I almost think I've done it for a moment; I can see myself setting down the coffee and standing up, walking over to that table, dropping to my knees, and absolutely burying my face in that woman's pussy. I can picture it in my head in every detail, not just the image but with all five senses. I know, in that moment, exactly what she smells like when she's aroused. I can hear her. She doesn't moan. She just lets out these tiny little kitten-ish whimpers, like she's too dignified to really let rip with a yell but she can't quite control herself. It's the most beautiful sound I can possibly imagine.

And then it hits me that I am imagining it, that I'm picturing myself down on my knees licking out another woman, and the image fades. I'm still sitting in my chair with a cup of coffee, still in a small crowd of people on a Thursday afternoon in a perfectly normal place doing perfectly normal things, and not suddenly and spontaneously deciding to become another woman's sex slave.

I set down the coffee when I realize that in the fantasy, that's exactly what I was. For that split-second, that little moment in my head, I wasn't just licking because I wanted to lick. I was licking because I had no other thought, no other purpose to my existence than to be between her thighs. I wasn't even a person, I was a sex toy that she was using to get off.

I remember that sensation of connection, of understanding that came over me, and suddenly I see it all over again. No, not all over again, this is new. Different details, but the same idea. I'm kneeling between her thighs like I was...God, like I was meant to be there. Her hands are curling around my hair in her passion, but she doesn't need to hold my head in place. I can't imagine ever wanting to be anywhere but down on my knees, my head between her legs, licking her snatch until her whimpers finally do turn to screams, until her screams turn to gasps, until her gasps turn to panting and she finally pushes my head away in exhaustion. Even when it does, I know I'll just be waiting until the moment when I can lick some more.

I come back to myself and realize I'm staring. This woman's probably going to think I'm some sort of pervert, the way I'm clearly looking at her legs underneath the table. But she hasn't pressed them together or crossed them or anything. If anything, she's spread them a little wider so that I can see more of that smooth, white expanse of flesh along her thighs, so that I can...

I can kiss all the way up those perfect legs. Starting with the feet, I know she'd want me to lavish a little extra attention on those. But as nice as they are, there's only one place I want to be now. Only one place I ever want to be now, and I keep kissing and licking and nibbling my way up her legs until I reach her cunt. I can feel the heat of her body before I even press my lips against her, and I understand why she hasn't needed a coat. She feels almost feverish against my tongue. I taste her arousal, and down there on the floor, I'm fingering myself. I don't seem to have clothes on anymore. I understand why. She wants to see me naked. She wants me to be naked and touching myself while I lick and lick and lick and...

I wipe away a tiny bead of drool when I come out of it this time. I don't know where these thoughts are coming from. I've never had any interest in other women. I'm engaged, for God's sake! I look down at my ring, trying to remember what sex with a man is like, trying to remember my fiancé's name, but all that comes to mind is the image of that ring pressing up against the woman's warm flesh as I sink three fingers deep into her pussy. Why didn't I realize that I could use my fingers as well as my tongue before now? Oh, God, there are so many ways to pleasure her and I've got to learn them all. My thumb presses onto her clit as I pump my fingers in and out, staring at her pussy as I finger-fuck her. I suddenly realize that I don't even know what she looks like, not really. I can describe her pussy in intimate detail, but her face is just a blur to me. I'm not meant to look at her face. I exist permanently at waist-level for my mistress.

I try to look up at her face now, here in the coffee shop that seems increasingly unreal to me, but her legs draw my gaze down like magnets. She looks incomplete without a naked slave girl between her thighs, licking away at her pussy, and I almost can't understand why the other patrons don't see it. Maybe they do. I'm having a hard time telling fantasy apart from reality at the moment, but I feel sure that if I were to go over there and start licking, nobody in this room would bat an eye. They understand, I feel sure of it. They know that this beautiful, perfect woman deserves a human sex toy. They'd only be jealous that it wasn't them.

I suddenly realize that I've draped my coat over myself during one of these fantasies without even realizing it. I look like a woman who's a little cold, but my fingers are slipping down into the waistband of my skirt and I'm touching myself. I can't stop now, even though this is a public place. None of that matters; the power of these fantasies supersedes all other social conventions. I'm just doing what I'm meant to do.

I drift off into the fantasy again when she spreads her legs a little bit wider, letting me see her panties. I wonder if she knows what I'm thinking, if she's aware that I'm letting my fantasies take me over and turn me into her willing pussy-licker while I finger myself in a public place. God, I hope so. A sudden terror grips me. What if she doesn't want me to lick her pussy? Someone as beautiful as her must have so many pussy-slaves, she has to be able to pick and choose. What if I were to walk up to her and offer myself to her and she said 'No'? I don't think I could take it if she refused to let me service her cunt. That fear paralyzes me, keeps me from moving as I sit there watching her thighs. Except for my fingers, which just keep pumping away inside my own pussy.

Suddenly, she gets up. Her legs just snap together like a trap and she stands up and heads for the bathroom. For a moment, I don't even know what to do. I'm lost in the fantasy of learning every detail of her erogenous zones, of becoming a pussy-slave that's so perfect, she'll have no choice but to accept me between her thighs, and the intrusion of reality leaves me dazed and light-headed. It also leaves me aroused, halfway to a mounting orgasm, but when she walks away, I know I have to follow. I pull my fingers out of my pussy, still slick and scented with my musk, grab my purse and head for the restroom. This time, I don't even try to wipe the drool off my chin.

I race into the bathroom, empty except for the two of us. I see her feet on the floor in one of the stalls, and I can't help myself, I flatten to the ground and crawl under the divider. I know my dress is getting dirty and I'm making a spectacle of myself, but at the same time it feels right to abase myself before her completely. I should be on my knees before her, I don't have the right to rise in her presence.

"What--what's going on?" she asks. "Who are you?" She sounds angry, maybe even a little scared, and for a moment it crosses my mind that I've gone crazy. Maybe this was all just a fantasy in my head and I'm about to get arrested for propositioning another woman in a public restroom, but I can't stop myself now.

"Please," I whisper, absolutely babbling with arousal and need, "please let me lick your pussy, let me be your pussy-slave, let me stay here on my knees forever fucking you with my tongue and my fingers and oh, fuck, I need to be there between your thighs, it's the most important thing in the world to me, please..." I'm still worried that she doesn't understand, but then I notice that she never took off her underwear. She was just sitting there on the toilet, waiting for me to come into the room and crawl to her, testing my devotion by pretending to be shocked, and realizing that is the happiest moment of my life.

"Yes," she says, and I practically lunge forward to pull off her panties. The hem of her dress rubs against the back of my neck as I inhale her arousal, and she smells just like I imagined she would. She smells just like she made me imagine she would. I don't know how she did it, but I don't care. She put these thoughts in my head, but I don't mind because they're *wonderful*.

She tastes just like I thought she would, too, all salty and slick on my tongue, and I'm doing my best to pull my clothes off so I can be naked for her, but it's hard because I can't move my head away from her pussy. I don't even know if I can't because I won't let myself, or if I can't because her body is exerting some sort of magical pull that locks me into servitude. It feels like magic holding me there, but I can't tell what's real anymore. The only thing I know is real is her taste and her scent and her pleasure.

I can hear her whimpers now, and I'm flushed with pride that I'm doing a good job of pleasing her. Her fingers are wrapped around my hair, just like I've always wanted them to be, just like I've always dreamed of. Ever since I first knew what sex was, I've been waiting for this moment, I just didn't let myself know it until now. She's whispering things to me, talking in between the whimpers, but I know that the only thing I have to pay attention to is making her cum.

I feel her thighs clench around my head, but I don't stop licking. Her juices are all over my face now, but I understand that it's only proper for a pussy-slave like me to have a face glazed with a woman's cum. I wish I could leave it there forever. My own orgasm hits, and for a moment I wonder how it happened. Then I notice my own hand, busily pumping away at my pussy. I hadn't even realized I was pleasuring myself, I was so caught up in pleasuring her. That's so perfect, so natural, so right that it makes me cum again.

But it doesn't make me neglect my duties. I'm still licking, still using my other hand to bring her even greater pleasure. Her whimpers come faster now, echoing off the bathroom walls, but I know that nobody will come in. Nobody will disturb us, she's made sure of that. I don't know how she's done it, I don't even know how I know, but she's made this into our own little world of pleasure. The others outside will only wish that they could be in here, that they could be right where I am right now making my mistress cum again and again and again...

Until finally she pushes me away in exhaustion. And just like I knew I would, I'm already picturing in my head the moment when she lets me lick her again. It's always going to be there, locked into my brain never to be removed. The rest of my life is just going to be the time between my chances to be her pussy-slave. I don't mind that. So many people will never get the chance to be her pussy-slave at all that I can't complain too much if I'm not constantly buried between her warm thighs. I'll go through the rest of my life happy, knowing that I'm secretly one of the chosen few who get to service her from time to time.

She takes my cell phone number and kisses me on the lips. I know she's tasting herself. When she leaves, I kneel there on the floor of the public restroom for a long moment, just basking in the glory of her remembered presence, before I finally pull my head together and start getting my clothes on. I've still got a lot to do today, dry cleaning to pick up and errands to run and I'm having dinner with my fiancé tonight.

I hope I can remember his name by then.

THE END



Suddenly Last Summer



My name is Dan Morton. I am single and a junior partner in a large CPA firm in San Diego, where I have worked since graduating from college two years ago. I live in a neat condo complex close to the beach, with a nice exercise room and pool. The exercise room is important to me because I'm into body building -- not extreme stuff - just good muscle tone. 

Most people here are close to my age and one of the other junior partners at my firm, Billy Walker, has a condo here as well. Billy's wife, Catherine, is a gorgeous brunet who wears a string bikini around the pool. I am not the only guy who drools over her fabulous figure. Catherine is shy and retiring and Billy tends to dominate her, but they seem like a nice couple.

Billy has been with the firm for a year and some of our people think he's an arrogant little bastard. Maybe because he's so smart! Graduated at the top of his college class and knows the laws and the regs better than anyone else in the firm. And he's a hard worker.

One Sunday afternoon we were enjoying the sun, lounging poolside. I was trying to admire Catherine's figure without being too obvious about it. She was a brunet, five-six, about 120 pounds, with a really neat ass, and boobs that looked like they were about to break out of her bikini. Her skin was tanned to a lovely golden bronze, and you just knew, as you looked at her, that when she was naked there would be sexy stripes of pearly white skin that had been shielded from the sun by those tiny pieces of cloth. She was drop dead gorgeous!

She looked even better after her husband pulled her into the pool. When she got out and hurried, shyly, past me to get her robe, the water had made that white bikini almost transparent and I was treated to a delightful view of two large nipples and a thick hairy beaver. Billy checked out my eyes as I admired her.

I shot a few frames of video of that figure when I thought she wasn't looking. Billy took some video of me after I bragged about my skills as a diver. I practically belly-flopped! Billy told everybody about his trip to Denver the previous weekend for a tax seminar. Catherine had gone with him and they had taken in a performance by Cirque du Soleil. 

It was a lazy afternoon sipping vodka cocktails of one sort or another. There was something about lazy afternoons in the sun that made vodka the best drink. I had a steak in the frig to grill on my balcony that night and a good bottle of Williams Selyem Pinot Noir -- too expensive to serve to crowds on my income, so I drink it alone or with a special guest. Tonight I was alone. I picked up my video camcorder from the table and headed upstairs.

When I got inside my condo I turned the camcorder on to see how my pictures of Catherine had turned out. In the viewfinder replay what I saw was a picture of my lousy dive. I had picked up Billy's camcorder by mistake. It was a Sony just like mine, sitting on the same table.

I wanted to see that dive again so I backtracked and hit replay. Shit! What I saw was Catherine Walker, naked in bed, getting fucked by a big stud!

I hooked up the camcorder to my computer and downloaded the entire video file. Then I went to the beginning and watched the whole thing. I had wondered what Catherine looked like naked, and there she was, stark naked in spike heels, walking across what was obviously a hotel room to get in bed. Those magnificent, milky white breasts contrasted with her well-tanned body. She had a lush, curly-haired, brunet beaver that almost completely covered her clit.

Catherine staggered a bit as she got in bed. She looked like she had been drinking a lot. Then this big stud -- he had to be six-three -- came into view. He had a cock on him that would qualify him as an actor in a porn movie. It was hard and sticking straight out. He walked up to the bed and got in next to her. Catherine rolled over on her back and spread those lovely legs. The stud crawls between her legs, shoves that monster into her, and starts banging away. Catherine's big boobs jiggled as he fucked her. 

Her legs were wrapped around his waist and the milky white triangles on her ass looked so sexy that I started to get a hard on. He was hammering her like a whore. Her legs, high in the air, were bouncing rhythmically as they fucked, her spike heels making the picture all the more obscene. It couldn't have been more than five minutes before he groaned and pumped his load. Then he lay there for a minute before he rolled off of her.

The cameraman -- I assumed it was Walter -- moved in close between her wide spread legs for a shot of thick, creamy cum dripping out of that hairy pussy and running down to her asshole. The stud had obviously pumped a massive load. Then the picture suddenly shifted to me on the side of the pool preparing to belly flop into the water. 

Shit! What the hell was this? It surely was not professional porn, because the lighting and shaky camera views were clearly amateur. It was a "quickie" in every sense of the word, because Catherine had no orgasm, it only lasted a few minutes, and the stud simply pumped his load and quit. Neither of them said one word. What the hell was it?

I needed to get Walter's camcorder back on that table before he missed it. I went out on my balcony and saw everyone in the same places they were when I left. I headed back down to poolside and casually replaced Walter's camcorder on the table. Then I mixed another drink and sat down. If anyone noticed my absence they probably thought I went upstairs to take a crap.

That night I watched the video several times. There was no personal interaction between the stud and Catherine -- he just fucked her. There was only minimal response from Catherine -- she looked like she was drunk and just laid there and serviced that big dick. There was no conversation at all. What the hell was it? Not sex for money -- even with that there would have been more interaction.

I was curious enough to pursue this, but how? Without being able to explain why, I decided the best place to start was Catherine. I took the next afternoon off and carrying my computer I rang Catherine's doorbell. Fortunately she was at home.

"Hi Dan, what's up?" Catherine said when she opened the door.

"Got a few minutes?" I asked.

"Sure, come on in," she said. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No thank you. I have something to show you," I said putting my MacBook on the coffee table.

She joined me on the couch. I opened the lid and punched up the video. The first scene of her starkers walking across the room began to play.

"Oh my God!" Catherine exclaimed loudly. "Where did you get that?"

I proceeded to explain what happened Sunday. She listened quietly and then started to cry softly, tears running down her cheeks.

"It's so terrible no one would believe it," Catherine began. "It's a long, ugly story. Billy and I got married during our senior year in college at NYU. It started right after that."

"How did it start?" I asked.

"It was at a frat party, right after we got married. There was a lot of drinking and pot. I got stoned and went upstairs with Billy and another guy and ... well ... I was so drunk that ... well ... I passed out and got laid by Billy's buddy!"

She looked down at the floor, then up at me and continued. 

"The same thing had happened to one of my girlfriends. It's not very nice, but ... well ... accidents like that happen at college parties when you get drunk and stoned. But, looking back, I don't think it was an accident because it didn't stop there. Billy kept trying to get me to do it again. Sometimes I'd flirt with a guy or even a little more, but Billy kept telling me to go all the way. He was so hateful when I didn't, that finally, I just got drunk and did what he wanted a couple of times."

"When we got out of college and came out here to San Diego, he didn't ask me to do it here. But when we traveled he'd try to meet a guy at the pool or in a bar and then he wanted to take him up to our room. He got mean when I didn't do it. I have done it maybe three times on trips since we got here a year ago."

"This video," she said, pointing to my MacBook, "was taken last weekend in Denver. It's the first time he wanted to take pictures." 

It was a tale so strange that it was hard to believe. What the hell was wrong with Billy?

"I'm gonna show this video to Billy," I said.

"Oh God no! Please don't! He'd kill me if he knew I'd told you about this," Catherine said.

"I won't tell him about you. I'll just tell him the truth about how I picked up his camera by mistake. I just want to find out why he's doing this."

A couple of nights later I invited Billy up to my place on the pretext of picking his brain about the tax seminar he had attended. After I poured him a drink, I told him about bringing the wrong Sony up to my room last Sunday. He became very quiet. I pulled out my computer and started showing him the video. After a couple of minutes I turned the computer off.

"What's the deal Billy?" I asked him directly.

His response was so unexpected that it threw me for a loop. I had expected anger or fear or shame or anything except what he said next.

He laughed. Then in an almost conspiratorial way he winked at me. 

"She's really good in bed. Want to try her out? She'll do it if I tell her to. You'll enjoy her. And from looking at you in bathing trunks I'll bet you've got a big one!"

I stood up and walked to the window and looked down at the pool, thinking. There was something wrong here. Billy went from offering me his wife to talking about the size of my dick. What was it? What was going on? I stood staring out at the pool, my mind a blank. Then suddenly -- out of nowhere - it hit me! Looking back I call it my Tennessee Williams moment.

Tennessee Williams was gay and a lot of his plays contained gay themes. One of his best was the one act play "Suddenly Last Summer" which had been made into a movie starring Elizabeth Taylor and (of all people) Montgomery Clift. It was a play in which a beautiful woman was used by her cousin as a lure to attract men for homosexual encounters. 

And Jesus! Talk about coincidence! The name of that beautiful woman in the play was Catherine! Standing there at the window I suddenly concluded that Billy was gay. He must have started using Catherine as a lure in college, and kept on doing it after college, but now only on vacations so he could stay in the closet with all his co-workers and friends in his new home city.

If Billy were gay, there was an easy way to find out. I had had the occasional gay acquaintance in college. I was a Beta and a couple of guys in my frat were gay and this was accepted by most of the Betas as an okay thing. Several of us even made use of their services when we came back to the house late at night, drunk and horny, because some inconsiderate gal had refused to fuck. It was better than jacking off. Of course it was not something that we broadcast widely, but we did it. 

After all, a blowjob is a blowjob if you close your eyes. In fact, gay guys actually give better blowjobs than gals. Most gals are just doing you a favor. For a gay guy it is the source of big time sexual pleasure and he works hard to be sure you enjoy it. A gal has to learn to take a thick one deep throat -- for a gay guy it's second nature. Besides, I have always enjoyed watching a proud guy drop down on his knees!

Now I knew what to do. I turned and walked slowly back to the center of the room. 

"Watching your wife spread her legs and get fucked turned me on Billy boy," I said rubbing my crotch suggestively.

Billy looked surprised but his eyes locked onto my hand rubbing my dick through my pants. I fantasized a naked Catherine in my mind and my dick started to cooperate. Billy's eyes never left my crotch.

Slowly I unzipped my fly and pulled out a semi-hard cock. I was not small. I had over seven inches and I was thick and uncircumcised. I began to pull that big loose foreskin back and forth, slowly, to cover and uncover the moist, purple head of my dick and Billy's eyes just froze in an almost hypnotic stare. 

"Come over here Billy," I said softly. "Come over and get a closer look."

Billy's mouth opened slightly and he licked his lips. His breathing became heavier and the expression on his face was slack. He was getting extremely aroused. Maybe he was fighting it but it was like fishing, and I had him hooked now. All I had to do was reel him in. 

"Come on Billy," I said, almost in a whisper. "It's ready for you."

I remembered our fraternity's faculty advisor. He was an Associate Dean and he was gay, as I found out late one night when he drank too much at a fraternity party. He was a distinguished forty-five year-old gentleman with a full beard, and a wife and kids. As far as I could tell I was the only person on campus who knew he was gay. I had numerous occasions to meet with Dean Richards in his office on fraternity business and sometimes I stroked my crotch and got the same reaction I was now getting from Billy. 

Dean Richards was in the closet and he was very careful. He really didn't want to suck me off in his office with his secretary a few feet away, on the other side of an unlocked door. So it was a power trip for me to make him do it. I knew he could never resist his inner demon when I whipped out that big uncircumcised cock and started to stroke it. He would stare at it just like Billy was doing now. Lick his lips and try to fight his mounting sexual arousal. 

Finally, even with his secretary just outside, he would walk slowly across the room and drop to his knees before me. Sometimes, when he was about to put my dick in his mouth, I would take a couple of steps backward so he had to crawl to get it. Crawling drained out any residual manhood, and this made him a much better cocksucker. It was a power thing for me. It turned me on -- big time. It turned on the Dean too. One time he confessed that being dominated by a kid half his age "maxed out" his sexual pleasure. 

My cock was fully erect now and standing straight out. I was moving my foreskin back and forth with my thumb and index finger. Billy seemed hypnotized. Then as if in a trance, compelled by some irresistible force, he rose from the couch and walked slowly over to me in the center of the room. And just like Dean Richards, his eyes never left my cock for a moment. 

He stood directly in front of me for almost a full minute, looking down at my dick. I could see his pride and his arrogance and his manhood just drain out of his body. Then, with a big sigh and what sounded like a soft whimper Billy dropped to his knees. For the first time, he looked up at my face, then, closing his eyes in complete surrender, he grabbed my rock hard cock in his hand and put it into his mouth.

I knew what he would do next because Dean Richards had always done it. He moaned softly and ran his tongue around my dick under the edge of my retracted foreskin, as though cleaning out the tastiest and most flavorful treat imaginable. This was the taste that made uncircumcised cocks irresistible to gay guys. Then he began sucking and moving his mouth back and forth, taking me deeper each time.

I put my hand on the back of his head -- not to dominate -- but to show him the rhythm I liked and to keep him taking my cock deeper and deeper into his throat. Soon, I felt a pair of big fleshy tonsils embrace the head of my dick, almost lovingly. 

Okay Billy boy, I thought, you're almost there. I pushed his head harder on the next thrust and my cock hit the back of his throat. He didn't gag. Those last few inches made the difference between an average cocksucker and an artist who could transform his mouth and throat into an exciting pussy for my pleasure.

He was making wet sucking sounds now, as copious saliva began to drool out of his mouth around my dick and drip down on his chin. Billy was a sloppy cocksucker, just like Dean Richards.

I guided his head with my hand to a fast and deep and regular rhythm, moving my dick from between his tonsils out to his lips and back again. He relaxed his mouth as he swallowed me deep and buried his lips in my pubic hair. Then he tightened his lips, lifted his tongue up hard against the base of my cock, and sucked forcefully, milking my cock, as the head of my dick slipped back out to his lips. The rush of air into his mouth, as he sucked, made a loud slurping sound. 

When he got the rhythm I wanted, I put my hands on my hips and relaxed. He was an artist. I could close my eyes now and enjoy his hot, sloppy mouth just as I would enjoy a dripping, user-friendly pussy. And with those full strokes, his mouth felt almost exactly like a pussy, except Billy boy was doing all of the work. All I had to do was stand there and enjoy it.

After several minutes I felt my juices start to rise and my balls lift up high and tight in my scrotum. When I was seconds away from my orgasm I grabbed the back of his head in both hands, and took control. Holding his head tightly and thrusting my hips forcefully, I fucked him in the mouth, feeling my dick hit the back of his throat with every thrust.

I groaned and pumped my load into his mouth and throat. He didn't choke, but he began to swallow, involuntarily. I held the bulbous head of my dick tight against the back of his throat and, when he swallowed, I felt his throat muscles grab my cock as though milking out as much cum as he could get. 

I kept on fucking his mouth after I ejaculated. This vigorous thrusting churned up the semen into a foamy, bubbly lather that began to trickle out of his mouth around my dick, and run down to his chin, which was already dripping with saliva. It was a damn good blowjob! A noisy, sloppy, quality blowjob! Billy boy was an artist!

Finally, I let go of his head, pulled my dick out of his mouth, and stepped back. Billy stayed on his knees, panting for air. His mouth was open and there was a big puddle of thick, foamy, white semen on his tongue. His lips and chin were dripping with a creamy lather of saliva and cum. 

One thick, ropey strand, hanging from his chin, dripped down slowly, and dropped onto the floor as I watched. He was squeezing a bulging hard on in his pants, and I knew he would be outside masturbating in the dark, minutes after leaving my condo. He stared up at me with the helpless, pathetic gratitude of a sated cocksucker.

I remembered looking down at the Dean on his knees, with my foamy cum dripping out of his mouth, covering his lips, and lathering up his beard like cream. His beard and mouth looked just like a freshly fucked pussy. He always got an erection, just like Billy had now and sometimes he even ejaculated spontaneously in his pants, when I pumped a big load of cum deep into his throat. "Like a wet dream," he once confided, "very messy, but when it starts I just can't control it." 

I looked down at Billy. All of his arrogance was now completely gone.

"You're a talented little cock-sucker Billy boy," I said. "I'm gonna use you again."

"Thank you," he said, softly, still on his knees looking up at me, submissively. "Please don't tell anyone about this. I only do it when I travel. Nobody in San Diego knows about me except you." 

I zipped up my fly and put my wet dick back into my pants. I remembered how Dean Richards always had a fresh handkerchief in his coat pocket. He would shake out that crisp handkerchief and clean my dick, so I could put it away dry. Then he would wipe the foamy cum off of his lips and beard. If I used Billy more often, I would have to teach him the proper etiquette for a well-trained cocksucker.

Billy stayed on his knees. He wiped off his lips and chin with the back of his hand. He seemed to savor the taste of my cum in his mouth. 

"I hope you enjoyed it," Billy said, still very submissive. "I'll do it again any time you want me to. You can fuck me if you want to." 




Suddenly Last Summer



I said nothing and he continued. "You can fuck my wife too. Let me know if you want to fuck her. Catherine will fuck anybody I tell her to. Sometimes I have to slap her around a little, but she'll fuck. I saw you looking at her beaver in that wet bikini. Guys like that bikini. That's why I make her wear it. They all say she's really good pussy." 

I simply nodded. Billy was making the deal now -- my dick for his wife's pussy. He got up off his knees and we said our parting good-byes. I went back to the window and looked down at the pool as he crossed the patio walking back to his condo. He was unzipping his fly as he stepped into the walled-off area where the pool equipment was hidden. 

The poor little bastard was gonna beat his meat, with the taste of my cum still fresh in his mouth, and squirt his juice onto the pavement. Jesus! With that beautiful wife at home! He'd rather play with his dick than fuck the sexiest lady in the neighborhood!

"Well, I'll be damned," I said out loud, thinking that Tennessee Williams himself would have admired that blowjob. It was quality work. Sloppy the way I liked it and right up there with the best I'd ever had. Now what, I wondered?

The next day I took a long lunch hour and stopped by to see Catherine, to tell her what happened. When I told her what he said she got mad.

"He offered to let you fuck me?" Catherine said, angrily.

"Any time I wanted. He said he might have to slap you around a little but you'd fuck. He said you'd fuck anybody he told you to."

"Shit! The bastard!" She shouted.

Then she paused, looked down at the floor, and said softly, "But that's what I've been doing, I guess. Not very nice to think about, is it? But I been doing it. Just an available little slut!"

"You're not a slut -- you're a gal with a husband who likes to give blowjobs."

"Give blowjobs? You got a blowjob?" Catherine said with surprise.

"I got a blowjob! A very good blowjob! Your husband is a highly skilled, experienced, little cocksucker."

For the first time, Catherine seemed to relax. She laughed, shaking her head as if in disbelief. But she believed me.

"So he's queer!" Catherine said. It was a statement, not a question.

"As a three-dollar bill. What was your major in college?" I asked her.

She looked puzzled. "English Lit. Why do you want to know?"

"Did you ever read Tennessee Williams?" I asked.

She looked even more puzzled and I said nothing. Then she looked up and to the right as people often do when they're trying to remember something and suddenly her eyes got big and round as though a light had turned on in her head.

"Shit!" Catherine said, almost shouting. "Even my name fits! Shit! It's everything except that his name isn't Sebastian! They say great writers describe real life and Williams was a great writer. Shit! Billy's always been a Tennessee Williams fan and now I know why."

"You figured it out." I said.

"The bastard was using me! Using me to attract big dicks! And then trading my pussy for them."

I nodded. "It looks like he was doing exactly that."

"Shit! That's no marriage. No marriage at all," she said. "I need to think about this."

A week went by and nothing seemed to change except that Billy was very friendly to me at work. We had our usual quiet Sunday afternoon by the pool in the sun. Billy pulled Catherine into the pool again, but this time when she walked by me to get her robe, she didn't rush. She gave me a good chance to look at her body.

She smiled at me and looked at my eyes. There was simply no way I could look at anything except that beaver and those nipples showing through the wet, transparent bikini. She knew it and she was teasing me. It was as though she were taking charge of her own life now -- no longer retiring and shy. She was deciding what she would do with her own body and what she would do about Billy.

Billy came by my condo that night and I let him blow me again. I stood there, my hands on my hips, my eyes closed, and listened to the slurping sounds as he sucked me off. I thought about his wife in that wet bikini. I remembered how she looked, legs spread wide, getting fucked. She would be a great piece of ass, but I wanted her to want it -- not just do it drunk like she did with those other guys.

I stopped by Catherine's condo the next day for lunch and told her that her hubby had sucked me off again.

"So he did it again," she said, laughing. "I figured he wanted to suck cock when he left our condo last night. He was in a hurry. How good is he really?"

"He's a very talented little cocksucker. He offered to let me fuck him."

Catherine burst out laughing. Then she got serious.

"I'd like that! I'd really like to watch you fuck him," she said. "I wanna watch that little fag bastard bend over and take it up the ass. I'm gonna leave him, you know. But, I'd like to watch you fuck him first. I hope to hell you got a big, thick one! And I want him to see me watching -- hear me laughing at him -- when he gets fucked!"

I thought about it for a moment, said a brief thank-you to mother nature for giving me a big, thick one, and then agreed to let her watch. What the hell I thought. Why not? It might be fun. She deserved it after the way he'd treated her and maybe she'd show her gratitude later.

The next Saturday afternoon I invited Billy up to my place and took him into the bedroom. Catherine was hiding in another room but she moved near the open bedroom door where she could hear what was going on. I started rubbing my crotch, just like before, and Billy stared at my hand.

"Take off your pants Billy boy," I said dominantly. "I'm gonna fuck you."

A look of surprise crossed his face. "I thought you just wanted a blowjob."

"No, I'm in the mood to fuck you. Fuck you just like a woman. How do you feel about that?"

"I feel good about it. I want it. I've been fantasizing about you fucking me, ever since I started sucking you off."

Billy was getting excited. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His face showed sexual arousal, as he hurried to unbuckle his belt and remove his pants. He threw his pants on the floor. Then he dropped his shorts and stood there, his useless appendage flaccid and drooping. It was gonna get hard when I got my dick up against his prostate. He looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to tell him what to do. 

"Turn around and bend over the bed," I ordered him.

He did what I told him. I had a high king-sized bed and this put his asshole in a perfect position.

"Spread your legs Billy boy. Spread 'em wide."

He did as I asked. Now I saw what appeared to be a well-used asshole ready for my enjoyment. I had left a tube of Vaseline on the bedside table and I pulled out my dick, which was getting hard, and greased it up. I was taking my time and Billy was trembling in anticipation. I'm sure he had pictured this moment in his fantasies many times. Like making a guy blow me, this was a power thing for me and I was enjoying it.

I stepped up between his legs and put the head of my cock on his anal sphincter and slowly began to push my hips forward. He was not very tight. This was a soft, experienced asshole. I slipped in easily and as I did so Billy groaned with pleasure. I pushed deeper until the head of my cock pressed up against a big, boggy prostate. 

"Oh yes! Yes!" Billy exclaimed as he felt the pressure of my dick massaging his prostate.

Billy closed his eyes and dropped his face on the bedspread, which he clutched with both hands. 

I started to fuck him, gently at first, and then more forcefully. I looked over at the door and Catherine was standing there, a big wide grin on her face. She had listened to the whole thing, and now she was gonna enjoy watching her husband take it up the ass. 

"Fuck me. Oh God! Fuck me! Hard! Yes!" Billy cried out loudly, pumping his ass. He was shouting into the bedspread, which muffled his voice.

I kept on fucking Billy in a nice easy rhythm and Catherine walked slowly across the room, giving me the thumbs up sign and smiling when she heard Billy beg for it. She watched me fuck him for a moment, in silence, and then, she laughed. It was a loud, high-pitched, musical laugh and she stood right beside me and looked down at her husband.

Billy had had his eyes closed and his face on the bed in pure ecstasy until her laughter shattered his pleasure. He looked back over his shoulder at his laughing wife, standing right next to me, looking down at him -- watching him get fucked. 

"Oh my God!" Billy sobbed. "Oh no! No! No!"

His secret finally revealed! But he didn't try to get away - he just grabbed the bedspread and covered up his head in humiliation and embarrassment.

"You're fucking him just like you'd fuck a woman," Catherine said. "And he's grunting just like a woman. He likes it, Dan. Look at that little cocksucker pump his ass! He's pumping it just like a horny slut!"

She bent down and looked at his dick. "He's got a hard on. Look at that little dick bounce up and down. Is he gonna come do you think?"

She looked at me. I nodded my head. "He's gonna come. He doesn't even have to touch his dick. The head of my cock massaging his prostate will bring him off."

"Just like a woman getting her clit rubbed," she said with a chuckle. "Fags are just like women except they got dicks. Useless dicks! Look how little it is compared to yours. Do all fags have little dicks?"

"I haven't seen that many," I said, "but most of the gay guys I've seen have had little dicks."

Her words were meant to insult and humiliate him, as if getting fucked in front of his wife wasn't humiliation enough. I couldn't even imagine what that poor little bastard must be feeling right now. And worst of all, he was so horny that he couldn't stop pumping his ass, even when his wife laughed at him for doing it. 

His exploitation of Catherine was history now. His arrogance had vanished, his manhood was gone and that secret, inner demon now had total command of his body and mind. He was trembling, helplessly, with sexual need.

Suddenly Catherine stopped laughing, leaned down, and began shouting at Billy. 

"You kept it secret from me and everybody else! You were fuckin and suckin all those guys you brought into my bed. You were trading my pussy for their peters."

She leaned down closer. 

"That's it baby -- hide your face. But your ass is showing and you're pumping it just like a horny little bitch -- you like it don't you? That big dick feels good pumping in and out doesn't it? You got me to thank for you getting to feel that thick cock up your ass. I told Dan to fuck you. You should thank me. Go ahead say thank you or I'll tell him to stop."

Billy just kept his head buried under the covers and pumped his ass steadily, but he said nothing. Catherine put her hand on my hips and slowed me down a bit. When Billy felt a change in my rhythm he pumped harder. 

Then desperate for me to continue he sobbed, "Oh God don't stop - please don't stop."

Catherine leaned closer to his head and said, "Say thank you. Say it you little fag! Or you're not gonna get fucked!" 

From under the covers came a sob and then the faint words. 'Thank you Catherine."

She laughed again -- that high-pitched, musical laugh - laughing at this final indignity and degradation she had heaped on her husband. I thought about her getting drunk to fuck all those guys for him and reminded myself that he deserved it.

I kept pounding away at Billy's asshole. Catherine, standing beside me, continued to watch with an occasional chuckle, sometimes giving me encouragement to pound him harder. She was enjoying it thoroughly. After several minutes, my dick working on his prostate got to him and it was obvious from his grunts and the way he moved his ass that he was about to come.

As Billy began his orgasm, before I knew what she was doing, Catherine reached down and grabbed his balls in her fist and squeezed. Billy had already started to come, but now, huge amounts of thick, creamy semen gushed out of his dick, and formed a big puddle on the floor.

Billy was groaning from his orgasm, but his groans got louder as she crushed his testicles in her fist. Then he screamed in agony.

"You bastard!" Catherine shouted at him. "You used me like a whore to attract big dicks!"

She was getting her revenge for the abuse he had given her for nearly two years.

When there was no more cum for him to pump out, she let go of his balls and I pulled my dick out of him. His asshole gaped open, loosely.

Catherine looked at it. "Jesus! His asshole looks just like a pussy. I wonder how many guys have fucked it like a pussy." 

Billy dropped off the bed onto his knees and stayed there, moaning in pain. But he kept the bedspread over his head.

I had seen a transformation in Catherine over the past week. She was no longer frightened and shy. Standing there now, her voice was dominant and she simply took charge. Billy, on his knees, was still holding the covers over his face with one hand, but now the other hand gently cradled his damaged testicles, as he moaned in pain. 

Catherine leaned down and screamed at his head under the covers, "You bastard! We need to get a few things straight." 

"First, I'm leaving you. Dan said I could stay at his place till I got my things in order. I'm gonna file for divorce -- nice and quiet -- and you're not gonna cause any trouble." 

"Second, you can stay in your closet with our friends and the guys at work as long as you behave yourself and cause me no problems. If you cause trouble, we're gonna out you with those guys and everybody else in this town. We're gonna pull you right out of that damn little closet you're hiding in."

"Third, your balls are gonna be sore for a few weeks, but when they heal and you start jacking off thinking about Dan fucking you, always remember me laughing at you. I want you to hear that laughter every time you have an orgasm. After what you did to me, it was a joy and delight to get your balls in my fist and I really had my fun with them."

Then Catherine turned and walked out of the room. Only then did Billy take his head out from under the bedspread. He said nothing and, with one hand still gently cradling his testicles, he dressed, wordlessly, and left. 

I helped Catherine move her things into my condo that afternoon, leaving most of the furniture for Billy. She was a welcome addition to my lonely life. I'll never forget that gleeful smile on her face when she was crushing his testicles in her fist and yelling insults at him. 

And that's the way that summer finished up. After Catherine moved in with me, I discovered that she was a spectacular fuck, although I kidded her that her ex-hubby gave a much better blowjob. Of course I was very careful not to kid her when she was tickling my balls. I had seen what that lady could do to a pair of balls when she got pissed.

Everything at work remained normal and nobody commented on Billy's divorce. I don't think anyone at work knew Catherine had moved in with me, or if they did, they didn't say anything. I was quick to let her know that she was welcome to stay as long as she liked. 

Billy started smiling at me after a few weeks. Of course I was very occupied with Catherine's user-friendly pussy, but ... well ... that hot mouth of his was still fresh in my memory, and unlike Catherine's pussy, his mouth had a very active tongue.