16 comments/ 30648 views/ 11 favorites Topsy Turvy By: ElleMunro78 Hello there, this is the follow up to Chalk and Cheese. Again, I'm not sure where we're going with it as yet but I hope you join me for the ride. I don't think you will have had to read Chalk and Cheese to read this, but it may help. Thanks for taking the time to read it, and please vote, send comments as it's great to hear what you think. Thanks Elle x * Chapter 1 Being designated driver sucked. Alanna watched jealously as her friends counted down and threw back another tequila slammer, each wincing with the pain as the liquid fire slid down their throats. She watched Bells in particular who seemed to be struggling, and wondered just how long it would take before Bells either threw up or was strutting her stuff on the dance floor and denigrating anyone who got in her way. Alanna sat back in her seat and sighed. Delighted though she was to see everyone, how typical that on this night, which was shaping up to be a really great night, she couldn't drink and therefore had to drive? The girls hadn't had a night of this magnitude in quite a while, but given Isabella's promotion, Helena's divorce and the birth of Tamara's baby and therefore her first night out in six months, this night had been billed as a night to remember, but given Alanna's bout of tonsilitis and necessity for antibiotics four times a day, it turned out that this was going to be a night for her to remember and remind the girls about as she would be experiencing the debauchery bright eyed and bushy tailed and they would be unlikely to remember - lucky bitches! She took a sip of her Diet Coke, bloody Diet Coke, and cast her eyes around the bar seeking another potential designated driver that she could drown her non alcoholic sorrows with. Nope, everyone looked as drunk as her friends, wonderful. She really had to get a grip, not only was she sober, she was now beginning to bore herself. It was the screeching in her ears that brought her back to her friends, well one friend in particular who was pointing and screeching. Alanna raised her hand to Tamara who was closest to her and the culprit of all the screeching, "Tam, what are you doing? Stop pointing - who are you pointing at anyway?" Tamara jigged up and down in her seat in excitement slurring her words and trying to convey a story. Alanna took a deep breath to encourage her patience to remain and asked again. This time she was greeted with a semi coherent answer, "My bosh, remember, Greg - Greg's lovely. Well remember, I told you about Greg meeting this lovely girl - Toni, Tilly - something like that, and they all found out that her ex had been sleeping with her sister? Remember? Well that's the sister's husband over there." The four women looked over at the handsome man nursing his drinks and being eyed up by every group of women in the room. Alanna could have sworn she heard Helena sigh - she was a sucker for a story. Tamara beckoned them in closer, "He's lovely, but apparently not handling it very well. From what I can gather from Greg - which isn't much - the wife has left him with the kids, and is now living with her sister's ex, Luke I think his name is. They're petitioning for custody or something after Mike, that's the guy over there, went for Luke with a baseball bat and she had him arrested. So poor thing, he's all by himself, with the kids and doing his job at the firm. Honestly, he's such a saint." As all her friends sighed in love over the poor single father who had been left by his wife, Alanna looked back over at said subject. He didn't look too poor, he was on Scotch number five, chatting happily to the blonde who was pulling on his earlobe, and signalling to the waiter for another one. Alanna looked back at her friends who had, as all drunken people do, forgotten poor single dad and were now back onto the subject of Helena's divorce, her fucker of a husband and how she could never imagine even kissing anyone again. Two hours later, Helena was in a corner slapping the face of the man she had been kissing for the past hour whose mother had just arrived to get him back home as he had A levels the next day, Tamara was mortified at having it pointed out to her that she had two massive milk spots on her white dress, signalling it was time for her to go and see her baby and Isabella had fallen off the table, twisting her ankle and was now hobbling back to where Alanna was waiting for them patiently. Yep, a night of great debauchery indeed. The walking wounded all made their way back to the table where Alanna was sitting and each "lady" dropped herself on to the booth. "Have we had enough girls?" The morose three nodded their heads while Alanna chuckled to herself, "Right, you go to the cloakroom, I'll just head off to the loos and meet you in the foyer." The girls nodded again and the team split. On her way to the toilet, Alanna cast a glance at Poor Single Dad who was now by himself staring at the row of glasses on his table, we were now at seven. His arms were rested on the table, and his chin rested on his arms and it seemed as though he were divining the secrets of the world from said glasses. Alanna shook her head at him. If things were that bad, he should just go home shouldn't he? Upon her return, she cast a glance at him again to see that while he was still in the same position, his eyes were now closed. What an idiot. She made her way back to the girls to tell them, only to have Tamara exclaim, "Well we can't leave him here, poor thing, how's he going to get home?" Alanna raised her eyebrows at her friend, "What?" "Well it's true. How's he going to get home?" "By cab, like every other drunk grown man. What's wrong with you?" "I just think he's been through a lot, and if it was Brad, I would want someone to help him." "Not if you were sleeping with your sister's ex, then you wouldn't give a monkeys!" "Please Al, the car's big enough, and I just think he needs a kind gesture." Alanna sighed wondering just how it was that she managed to get herself in these positions and then reminded herself that about eighty percent of the time, it was due to her friends. "Well Tam, I don't know the man from Adam so I suggest you go and speak to him, and for the love of God, wipe your nipples!" Tamara giggled at her friend's admonishment and swayed her way over to the table where the big man was sleeping. From where they stood, Alanna, Isabella and Helena watched as Tamara tried to wake him, and then watched as she slapped him gently on the face. They each took an intake of breath as they watched their friend charm the bouncer who picked Poor Single Dad up and threw him over his shoulders and followed tiny Tamara out to meet the girls. Tamara made the introductions, "Girls, this is Bobby, he's our knight in shining armour for this evening." The girls cast a glance at Bobby, he looked more like the dragon that needed slaying than that of knight but Alanna was just grateful that this debacle was almost over. They made their way to the 4x4 that Alanna's brother had insisted she buy so she could ferry his football mates around and watched as Bobby threw Poor Single Dad into the back seat, and then watched as Isabella and Helena climbed and sat on him quite ungraciously. Alanna then watched as Bobby helped Tamara into her carriage and and smiled as his face lit up when Tamara gave him a kiss on the cheek to say thank you. She shook her head. Tamara always had this effect on men, if she wasn't scaring the bejeesus out of them - it was a conundrum. Alanna strapped on her seatbelt and said, "Ok, let's drop him off first, and then we'll make our way home. Where does he live?" Silence ensued. Alanna turned to Tamara, "Tams, where does he live?" Tamara studied her knees and muttered something very quietly. "'I'm sorry, I didn't hear you." "I said I don't know." Alanna frowned, "How could you not know, this was your idea? Where did you think we were going to take him?" "I hadn't really thought it through to be honest. Al, don't be angry with me, I just want to go home and see Brad and Junior." "And then what are we going to do with him?" Alanna waited for her friends to wade in, but nope, nothing. She looked over her shoulder to find Helena and Isabella as passed out as Poor Single Dad, one with her head in his lap, the other with her head on his shoulder. Alanna sighed again, bloody antibiotics. If she wasn't on the sodding things, she would have been drinking too, and then none of this would have happened. She would have been as drunk as everyone else and they wouldn't have had to dick around with this nonsense. Poor Single Dad would have just been a drunken observation quickly forgotten and she wouldn't have to worry about this. She sighed and looked over to Tamara to make her feel guilty, but Tamara was fast asleep. Bitch. He's just going to have to come home with me it seems. Alanna threw the car into gear and set off on the usual journey home. Bella's flat was first. As they arrived, Alanna looked over her shoulder to wake her but Bella was already awake and bemoaning the loss of her shoe. How had they not noticed that she had lost a shoe? Leaning forward to kiss Alanna on the cheek, she shouted her love for the girls and promised to call in the week. Alanna watched her friend hop to her gate and then laughed as she watched her struggle to work out how to open it. One would never guess that by day she was the CEO for a major advertising company, that was the beauty of Bells. Once in, Bella raised her hand in farewell and Alanna flashed her headlights and set off again. On to Helena's. Poor Helena hated going home since she and her husband had broken up, and as Alanna pulled up to her front door, she looked over her shoulder and again found that Helena was awake, but was relishing the body contact that she was experiencing with the unconscious Poor Single Dad. Alanna rolled her eyes and cleared her throat causing Helena to jump in guilt. "You're like those college frat boys that we were warned about who spike people's drinks -" Helena held up her hand, "Don't even go there girlfriend, I wasn't being inappropriate, I jusht like his aftershave." "Mmm hmmm - yes I'm sure you do. Get out of my car before I call the police on your arse." Helena laughed and high fived Alanna and looked over to kiss Tamara goodbye but she was still dead to the wind. Helena made the "I'll call you sign" and made her way to her apartment block. Arriving at Tamara's was the last stop and having tried to rouse her and getting no luck, Alanna had no choice but to call Brad to come and get her. She smiled as she watched him jog out to the car. Tamara had fought tooth and nail for him, in fact, they had fought tooth and nail for one another and in doing so had a love so strong that it was sickening. The birth of their baby had cemented this, and Alanna had always looked up to the two of them to know that proper love was possible. Alanna rolled down her window, "How bad is she?" "Think Cancun 2007." Brad winced. Alanna laughed, "I hope you have tomorrow off because your child's mother will not be in any fit state for anything I reckon." Brad laughed back at her, "Ha, the joke's on you my friend. My mum's here so I plan on spending all of tomorrow in bed with my wife." Alanna laughed at him, "No, I think you'll find the joke's on you because unless your idea of sexy time is holding her hair back as she throws up every hour on the hour, you can kiss that plan adieu." "Bitch." "Flattery will get you nowhere. How's my little man, ok?" "He's good as gold. Do you want to pop in for a cup of tea and come and see him?" "Thanks but looks as though I have a baby of my own tonight." Brad peered into the back seat and laughed, "Who is he?" "Fuck knows - ask your wife in the morning - she got me into this mess." He laughed opening the door, kissing his wife on the forehead gently and scooping her out of the car. Alanna watched as he whispered to her and she snuggled further into his neck kissing him gently. She smiled. Now ready to go home, she looked back over her shoulder at the sleeping figure and guessed that he would be coming with her. Alanna pulled into her driveway having wound down all of the windows, put the radio on full blast and singing very badly in a bid to wake the massive sleeping mountain in her back seat. Nothing. She couldn't very well leave him to sleep in her back seat, or could she? No, she left that idea and turned the engine off and made her way to the back seat. She tapped him gently on the face, needing him to wake up. No response. She tapped a little harder and still nothing. This was quite frustrating. She got out of the car and thought for a second and then noticed the hose. *** "Fuck!" Michael Collins opened his eyes to a deluge of very cold water being wielded on his Hugo Boss suit in the back seat of a car that he did not recognise. "Stop it, stop!" Apparently the wielder was having way too much fun with this and couldn't hear him so he grabbed the hose pulling the wielder into view. "Why are you doing this?" A pair of angry eyes looked back at him, "You wouldn't wake up" "Why not try calling me, or shaking me?" "Done and done. You still wouldn't rouse from your slumber. It must have been all those Scotches. "Who are you anyway?" "I'm your Good Samaritan. Anyway, now you're awake, you can sleep in my brother's room and I'll dry your clothes overnight." He followed her into the house willingly as his brain was still a little fogged and was delighted when she showed him into a room with a large bed. "I'll wake you in the morning and then you can make your way home." Mike nodded, "Ok." She nodded back at him and as she closed the door, he could have sworn he heard her say, "Dickhead." Mike took his clothes off and slid into bed grateful for his Good Samaritan, and after checking his phone to kiss the photos of his kids goodnightwent straight back to sleep. Topsy-Turvy I'd been working on my Chris Craft on the dock down in the keys for several hours, often looking over to admire the size and lines of a sleek, humongous yacht on the other side of the dock, before I realized that two men were sitting in the covered fantail of that craft and watching me too. I almost regretted that I'd stripped down to the Speedo to do my washdown. Suddenly embarrassed by their close attention, I went over to the other side of my boat to work. But I took occasional peeks at the other craft, which had the name Topsy-Turvy painted on the stern, and couldn't help but notice that both men had binoculars pointed in my direction. From here they looked like Mutt and Jeff. The large guy was a little hard to miss—a bruising muscle-bound hulk in white shorts and a fluorescent-colored Hawaiian sports shirt. The little guy seemed no more than a boy, as spied from down here. He was in gray gym shorts and a T. The day was hot and I'd been slaving for some time and, having raised my eyes to the boat to see if I was still under surveillance—which I was—I tuned into the fact that I had developed a deep thirst. I came around to the dock side of the boat to fish a beer out of the cooler I had sitting on the dock. "Care to come aboard for a beer?" I looked around and up at the main deck of the Topsy-Turvy. The big guy was standing at the rail, a beefy hand shading his eyes. He repeated, "I say, you look thirsty; care to come aboard for a beer?" I was already opening the lid to the cooler, but someone else's beer was always a better idea to me than one I'd bought. "Maybe," I called over to him. "Does the offer come with a tour of the boat? That's some yacht you have there." "Certainly can, yes," the big guy answered jovially. "We can even take it out for spin, if you like. We were going to cruise for an hour of two this afternoon anyway." "Sounds good to me," I called back. "Just give me a minute or two to batten down the hatches over here." I'd done all I wanted to do on my Chris Craft that afternoon anyway. And I'd been arguing with myself over whether to take the boat out. It was a gorgeous day, but if I took it out, I'd have all of the scrubbing to do again when I got back to the dock. Now I could have it both ways—a short cruise in a real ship and my own scrubbed down nicely. A couple of burly crewmen in spiffy whites appeared and started casting off on the Topsy-Turvy almost as soon as I got aboard and was moving to the fantail. "Hello, there," the big guy said as I walked up to him. He was still standing by the rail. The grip of his handshake had power and authority in it. "I'm Tom, and this is Jerry. You tired us out just watching you clean your boat down over there. Come sit and select your poison." Tom and Jerry. I almost laughed. But then that was better than Mutt and Jeff, I supposed. I went past Tom as he turned to introduce me to the little guy. The little guy—Jerry—didn't stand up. He looked like he'd fallen down a flight of stairs, rather bruised and battered, and I thought immediately that maybe he couldn't stand. I leaned down, extended my hand, and introduced myself. His hand was trembling and was slightly moist. As I leaned down, I couldn't help but notice red welts on his inner thighs, and I wondered how the hell they'd gotten there. That would be hard to do in a fall down the stairs. "Hello, Jerry," I said. "I'm Raymond. Call me Ray." Jerry looked at me wanly. His eyes were glittering and much more expressive than any other part of his face. He responded his pleasure in meeting me in a rather weak voice. His eyes were boring into me, though, and I got the impression that he wanted to convey something to me, almost plead for something. But then Tom spoke again, naming beer brands they had on hand so I could take my pick, And Jerry's gaze snapped away from me and looked beyond me to where Tom was standing. I saw the little guy's eyes blaze up and then dim. Then Jerry looked down in his lap at his hands and said no more for the time we sat in the fantail, Tom and I drank beer and talked about boat maintenance and the Miami Dolphins as the yacht steamed out into the Atlantic. I had worked hard, and there was a lull in the conversation, and both the sun I'd already taken and the beer I was drinking too much of got to me. My head went back into the cushions as the yacht steamed along and I dozed off. My dreams were disturbed. I heard noises, disturbing noises, groans and moanings and sharp little cries. I jerked awake at the sound of a louder, muffled scream, my mouth sour from the beer, my head throbbing a bit from having had too much sun while scrubbing down the Chris Craft, and the sensation of not knowing whether the cry had been in my dream or was part of my sudden wakefulness. Tom and Jerry were gone, but one of the white-clad crew members was standing at the door into whatever lay inside the ship's main cabin beyond the fantail porch. He was looking at me, and when I was fully awake, he pushed the door into the salon open with a hand and pronounced in a low, gravely voice, "They are in here." I stood and walked over and through the door and then stood there, immobilized for the moment in shock. Then I turned, wanting to get out of there—and off the ship, not giving a thought to the fact that we were a good two miles off the strand of Florida keys now. But the crewman, who was nearly as big as Tom, was blocking the door and staring at me in a way that I knew would not permit exit. Tom turned around and gruffly told me to take a seat and watch. I collapsed into a tub chair near the door. Then Tom turned back and flicked Jerry's naked buttocks with a leather whip, raising a little cry tapering off into a gurgled whimper. He then thrust his engorged cock inside Jerry's ass and began pumping hard in long strokes. It was a regular S&M movie set. Jerry was naked and bent over a padded, brown-leather-covered gym pommel horse type apparatus that was closer to the ground than usual and didn't have the handles of a regular gymnastic pommel horse. He was barely in contact with the floor on his stretched toes. His wrists were cuffed to the legs of the horse on either side and his legs, straining back from the apparatus as he reached for the floor, were separated by a steel extender rod cuffed to his legs underneath the knees. This was holding his thighs wide in involuntary spread. His cries were muffled, because his head was covered by a leather harnessing that held a plug in his mouth. His buttocks and back and the backs of his thighs were red with welting from where Tom was whipping him. I sat there aghast, unable to take my eyes away from the tableau. Tom, decked out in only black leather pants missing a crotch and black storm trooper boots, was fucking Jerry hard while flicking his legs and torso with the whip. With each upper thrust of his cock, Tom was lifting Jerry's scrabbling toes off the floor. The action stopped long enough for Tom to pull his cock out and strap a ribbed silicon extender over his already-huge member that increased its width and length appreciably, and then he reared his hips back and slammed the pole into the channel of the much smaller man. Jerry writhed under the augmented attention and turned his head back and looked at me—his eyes full of his pain and pleading. I started to rise, to try to go to his aid, but the crewman at the door leaned over and pushed me back into the chair with a meaty fist to my sternum. The look in his eyes told me I'd better not move again. As the fucking continued, Jerry began to writhe under the attention and to moan ever louder. I was embarrassed, but I had to admit to myself that something was stirring inside me—that I found this arousing. I turned and looked at the crewman at the door, and that didn't help a bit. He had his cock out and was beating it. My hand went involuntarily to my own cock, which was hard and throbbing inside the restricting pouch of my Speedo. Jerry was moving his hips in a frenzy now, and he arched his back and bellowed under his mouth restraint as he jetted out cream under the powerful, relentless thrusts and whipping of Tom. I didn't know how the little guy managed it. He looked far too fragile and vulnerable against the brutish hulk of his oppressor. After Jerry had come, Tom pulled out of him and just let the small guy collapse against the apparatus in muffled moans. Tom turned to me and said, "You now. You fuck him now." "Me?" I croaked in shock. "Yes, you." "I . . . I can't do that," I managed to blurt out. Possibly the severe tenting of the crotch of my Speedo and the spot of precum there somewhat belied that statement, however. "We're not going back to land until you do," Tom declared ominously with glowering eyes. "Stavos," he bellowed, and the crewman at the door, who was busy stuffing himself back through his fly, came to attention. "Supplies for our guest." I looked around as the guy at the door dug in his pocket. He came up with two condom packets and flipped them over to me. I let them fall at my feet and looked down dumbly at where they lay. A big hand—Tom's—reached down and picked them up and tucked them under the rim of my Speedo and then he stormed out of the door. The crewman shut the door behind Tom and then turned again, crossed his arms, and resumed his guard stance inside the door. Jerry was whimpering and moaning. I rose and went over, and, as gently as I could, freed him from the collection of restraints, and half dragged, half carried him over to a bed at the side of the room. "Thank you," he whispered. I turned to leave, but he clutched at me. "Please don't leave. Hold me. Please." I sat down on the edge of the bed, and he curled up to me in a fetal position and wrapped his arms around him. I encircled him with my arms. I don't know who started it, but we began to rock back and forth, and he had a hand down the front of my Speedo and was squeezing my cock. The sensations of arousal and lust welled up inside me. "I must go," I murmured, trying to pull away from him. But he held me fast, suddenly quite strong. "No. You have to take me. You heard him. You won't get back to land . . ." "Hush," I said, putting a finger over his bruised lips. "Don't try to talk. I . . . can't . . . I . . ." He was pulling my face down to his with the back of his hand, the other one still encasing me cock. "Fuck me," he whimpered. "You must fuck me. It's the only way." And then he had his lips to mine and his mouth was opening to me, and we went into a passionate kiss. I adjusted our bodies, coming up more on the bed, moving his buttocks to presentation position for my cock. When in a natural position for fucking, I opened a condom packet and, with a sigh of resignation edged with a chill of thrill, I crowned my cock. "No . . . no . . . Bind me," Jerry whispered when I had the bulb of my cock at his rim. "Both wrists to both ankles." "What?" I said, loud enough for the man at the door to take notice. "I can't . . . I couldn't . . ." "He's watching; he'll know if you don't." Jerry was whimpering, pleading with me, reaching for the leather thongs on the bed coverlet. So, I bound him, ankle to wrist on each side and rolled him onto his back, trussed like a sheep for shearing. And I put the palms of my hands under his buttocks and presented the bulb of my cock to his Tom-stretched anal entrance. And I fucked him. And he moaned and told me how filling and manly I was and how much he loved my cock churning inside him—loud enough for the monitoring crewman to catch it all. And, sad to say, I enjoyed it immensely. When I was lost to any qualms about what I was doing and was fucking him vigorously in long penetrating strokes, he cried out, "Slap me. Punish me, Daddy. Slap me." He had to say it a couple of times before I complied, but when I did slap him on the buttocks and on his nipples a couple of times, he became frenzied in the fuck and his cock hardened. And he ejaculated up his belly. Ashamed at having enjoyed myself, but unable to deny that this had been one of the hottest fucks of my life, I untied him and we went back into a rocking embrace. "The punisher," I heard him mutter after several minutes, while our breathing was returning to normal. "What?" I responded, in shock. I'd heard him perfectly, but I didn't quite believe what I was hearing. "The punisher, Daddy, I want you to do me on the punisher. The apparatus. Put me on the apparatus again," he was pleading. "I want you to fuck me again on the apparatus. Please, Daddy, please." Jerry was licking his lips and giving me an intense, dreamy look full of lust and determination. I sat up and away from him, staring down at him. Seeing him for the first time since I had boarded this boat. "Tom," I said, accusingly. "Tom works for me," Jerry said. "This is my boat. I told him to get you aboard." His face was set in a determined, suddenly strong expression. His voice now was equally hard. "Fuck me on the apparatus. We're not going back to land until you fuck me on the punisher." I required Salvos's help in hooking Jerry up to the apparatus correctly, during which time Jerry became increasingly docile and started to tremble in anticipation, his cock hardening as we finished. After I had fucked Jerry on the apparatus, just as Tom had, but without the whip and the mouth restraint, substituting hand slaps in response to Jerry's angry declarations that he couldn't come if I didn't punish him, and I had unhooked him from all of the restraints, Tom reentered the room. He was still in those black leather, crotchless pants, big, thick cock at full staff and flicking his whip. And he had a mean expression on his face. "Salvos," he bellowed. "Help our guest get hooked up to the punisher." "Nooooo," I cried out. But Salvos already had me in his grip.