3 comments/ 20327 views/ 9 favorites A Pendant for Wendy By: geronimo_appleby Okay, I ran up against the deadline for entries into the Winter Holiday comp. So here it is; my effort at Toys and Masturbation in time for the closing date. As per the competition guidelines the entry is a stand-alone piece, but it could also serve as the precursor to further chapters. There's scope for more if there's any interest from out there, and if I have the opportunity to continue. Anyway, we'll see what the interest is like first. It's a fairly short scene -- just shy of 11k words -- that sees Vince giving his mother's best friend (Wendy) a pendant as a Christmas gift. Wendy had never looked at Vince in a carnal way before, but the gift makes her reconsider. As usual, I hope you enjoy the piece. Feedback is good, especially on whether to continue it or not. If it dies on its arse then I won't bother thinking about it. Please forgive any errors that remain in the text. I self-edit and often miss howlers. If there are any typos or obvious fuck-ups herein, please drop me a note to tell me where, etc. Okay, time to get on with it. Thanks for reading. GA -- Benissa, Spain -- 6th December 2013. It was Christmas Day, and Wendy had been fighting her own feelings for most of it, ever since the scene in the kitchen with Vince. Finally, in bed, lying in there in the dark she succumbed to the desires she'd struggled against for hours. Wendy's fingers found her vulva. She hadn't meant to do it, no conscious decision had been made, but the yearning had been overwhelming. She gasped and squirmed in the bed as the fingers of one hand worked between her legs, the fingertips of her free hand tracing the outline of the pendant at her throat, its newness still unfamiliar. "Oh God," she mumbled as lust fought for supremacy over morality, the burning emotion claiming victory when her finger split labia tacky with desire. She teased herself, fanning the flames of ardour, gently rubbing her clitoris, her mind filled with what-ifs as she indulged the fantasy. What if he hadn't passed her that small gift-wrapped box? Then Wendy would never have known how he felt. What if his mother wasn't her oldest, dearest friend? Then she would be riding him at that very moment, feeling him beneath her, his solidness inside her, their flesh sliding. What if she encouraged him now that she knew how he felt? And then, when her ardour flared brighter, hotter, Wendy's imaginings grew wilder. What if she threw back the quilt and crept to his bedroom? He would welcome her, Wendy was sure of that. What if she dared? Where would it end? "Fuck," Wendy mumbled into the dark. "Just once," she gasped. And she let herself go, succumbed to the yearning, her fingers stirring her sex, the liquid squelching coming up from between her legs. The pendant had been the catalyst -- silver, delicate, a gift-wrapped surprise from Marian's son that had altered Wendy's perception completely. She'd taken the little box from him, seen the anxiety in his expression during the clandestine act, the realisation coming on a rush of understanding: he was young, only nineteen, and he had a young man's desire for an older woman. How long had he agonised over the giving of the gift? Vince must have been weak with worry about giving such a memento to his mother's best friend; he must have been building himself up to the moment, no doubt prevaricating endlessly before steeling his resolve. Wendy imagined his feelings in the seconds before he made the approach. His guts like water, throat dry, heart pounding, totally without a clue about how Wendy would react. "Please, Wendy," Vince had muttered, his cheeks flaming while his eyes moved everywhere, settling anywhere she wasn't. "Don't tell anyone. It's just a present from me to you. A personal gift." He'd left her speechless and staring after him as he'd retreated, Vince rushing from the kitchen after making his covert move. For the rest of that Christmas Day, while everyone else laughed and joked and over-indulged, Wendy, a guest in her best friend's home, kept looking at Vince. The images popped into her head, unbidden, unwanted while Wendy struggled to keep her mind pure from carnal thoughts. It was odd, Vince was just the same, physically unaltered, but Wendy was seeing him through a woman's eyes for the first time, appreciating Vince for his male attributes, assessing him as a potential sexual partner. In the past, all those years, he had simply been Vince, Marian's son, and it came as a shock to Wendy when she realised Vince had grown into quite a good-looking young man, that he was tall, broad across the shoulder and athletically graceful. She wondered when it had all happened and why hadn't she noticed earlier, and Wendy distanced herself in her mind, appraised Vince objectively, and was shocked at the ripple of interest tingling in those parts of her body sensitive to such nuance. In the blink of an eye, in the time it took to pass a small gift wrapped package from one hand to another Wendy became obsessed by Vince. He was on her mind constantly, her body reacting. Outwardly, to everyone else in the house she remained her usual self, while inside her emotions and feelings seethed. But Wendy fought against her body's rebellion. She knew she could never allow herself to act on the attraction to Vince. The risk was too great; she valued Marian too much. The betrayal of trust was too much to contemplate. The price of time spent loving with Vince was too high. So all through the afternoon Wendy waited for a chance to confront Vince. She rehearsed the words she would use, envisioned the scene, replaying it over and over in her head until she had succeeded in convincing herself that she had the strength to politely thank Vince for his gift yet resist the physical lure. The day passed into evening before Wendy's opportunity arrived. Marian's husband was snoring in front of the television, Wendy's own son had left the house for a kick-about on the Rec with Dean, Vince's younger brother, and Marian was speaking to her mother on the phone. "Vince," Wendy said. "I need to talk to you." She saw Vince's throat work as he pretended not to hear, his eyes on the muted TV. "Vince," Wendy repeated. His face swivelled towards her and she glanced at his father, indicating the kitchen with a nod of her head. "Talk," she added. "Now." Vince threw a look towards his father and took the hint. He wasn't sure of Wendy's mood and didn't want to risk any raised voices and subsequent scenes of embarrassment. "Okay," he mumbled, rising reluctantly. They were both in the kitchen, Vince with his backside up against the counter, knuckles white as his fingers gripped the edge, Wendy between him and the door. "Why?" Wendy whispered? "What's it all about, Vince?" She fingered the pendant and questioned Vince with her eyes. Vince shrugged, refusing to meet her stare. "I ... Uh ... I like you, Wendy." He was mumbling, evasive, cheeks flaming. Vince shrugged again, feet shuffling. "It seemed like a good idea at the time." Wendy sighed, her head moving slowly from side-to-side, her attention focussed on Vince's face. "It's a heart-shaped, pendant, Vince," she murmured. The blush on Vince's cheeks deepened and he shrugged a third time. "It doesn't mean anything." His voice came out as a gurgle, his eyes going everywhere as he still refused to look at her. "I thought you might like it." "So why the secrecy, Vince? Why didn't you put it under the tree for me to unwrap this morning?" He looked at her then, a quick glance before his eyelids flicked up and down like Bardic lamps. His throat worked as he blinked, and Vince swallowed heavily. Wendy pressed on, determined to make him reveal how he felt. "It's lovely, Vince," she murmured. "I love it. It's a thoughtful gift. Thank you." "Duh-do you really like it?" Vince stuttered. Wendy nodded with enthusiasm. "I do, Vince. I love it. But..." Vince winced, perhaps knowing what would next come from Wendy's mouth. Wendy paused, conflicting emotions swelling -- Should she really ask? "It means something, doesn't it?" Wendy scooped the pendant from her breastbone. "The heart, that's significant, Vince, isn't it?" Vince stared at the pendant dangling on the end of its chain. He gulped and nodded, croaking, "Yeah ... It does." Wendy sighed at the admission. "You know nothing can happen." It was her turn to shrug. "Not that I'm not flattered, Vince. Truly, believe me, I am." She let the pendant drop and heaved another sigh, sweeping an arm away from her body in an expansive, all-inclusive gesture. "But your mum's my friend," she said. Wendy paused again, her stare fixed on Vince's eyes as he gazed back at her. "My friend, Vince," she emphasised. "There could never be anything between you and me." "But..." Vince began. "If she wasn't..." He swallowed heavily once more, cheeks ballooning as air hissed out of him. "Would you...? I mean ... Me? Would you be interested?" What disturbed Wendy after an afternoon of thought on exactly that subject was just how interested she was. She looked at Vince and saw him staring right back at her, and the intensity of that look in his eyes, the feral hunger, sent a flood of heat towards that indefinable place somewhere south of the pit of her stomach. Wendy felt her nipples tighten while a low, barely perceptible lub-lub pulsed in her clitoris. "That isn't the point," she replied, evasive as her stare broke away from Vince's face. "And as much as I love the pendant and appreciate the sentiment, nothing can happen. Never." Vince closed his eyes, squeezed them tight, and Wendy saw the tension in him as the muscles in Vince's jaw worked. His hands came off the counter and bunched into fists. She knew it was stupid even as she moved. Then she was in front of him, close enough to touch. "Give me a hug, Vince," Wendy murmured. "Come on, give me a hug and then forget about me. It just can't happen." Wendy swallowed as the lie came out of her. It was as though her mind was cleaved in two, a sensible, moral part of her screaming no while somewhere else entirely, in that place inside where lunacy lives -- because what she was doing was crazy, recklessly courting danger -- Wendy wanted Vince to touch her. Vince hesitated, eyes huge and round, his jaw hanging. "Wendy," he mumbled. "A hug, Vince." Wendy's arms opened in invitation. She took a single step and then he was there, his arms around her with his face pressed into the scoop between Wendy's shoulder and her throat. Vince squeezed, pulling Wendy into a bear hug. Then he was babbling, muttering into her ear. "You smell gorgeous. You're so sexy, Wendy. I ... I can't help it. I look at you and I feel ... I feel..." "I know, Vince," Wendy replied. Her heart thumped, suddenly too small for her chest as desire ballooned inside her. "I know exactly how it feels. I feel it too." Vince pushed her away from his body, his fingers around Wendy's upper arms. He gaped at her, chest heaving as he sucked in deep draughts of air. "You do?" he boggled, incredulous. There was a pause while Vince absorbed the revelation. "I look at you, Wendy," he said, "and I want to touch you." Vince sighed, eyes rolling, his fingers squeezing the flesh of Wendy's arms. "I want to touch you and kiss you and ... and ... and I want to look at you naked, Wendy. I want to look at your ... at ... at your boobs. I want to do things to you. I want ... I want..." "You want to fuck me, Vince." There was a fire between Wendy's legs. She could feel the desire oiling her pussy; her clitoris throbbed, the pulse moving up a gear, the yearning cranking to the next reckless level as her body's demands increased. She hadn't meant to use such a crude expression; Wendy hadn't intended for that sentence to come out at all, let alone deliver it with such glutinous intent apparent in her tone. Wendy pressed against Vince, moving into him with a smoky, feline full-frontal caress, her body moving against his. His hands went to her buttocks, and the words came out of Wendy, her voice thick and curdled with lust. "Isn't that it, Vince? That's what you want to do. You just want to fuck." "Shit, Wendy," Vince gurgled. She heard him gulp, his fingers squeezing the cheeks of her backside as she writhed and wriggled, desperate to rub her vulva with either her fingers or Vince's thigh. "You don't know how much I want to do it with you. I think about it all the time, Wendy heard him mutter." Then Wendy swallowed, her breath rasping, lust surging. "Do you play with yourself and think of me?" she asked. Vince didn't reply with words, he was too busy nuzzling Wendy's neck, his hands between their bodies, fingers tight over Wendy's breasts. He nodded and mumbled something indecipherable. The image that came into Wendy's head burst the dam. She pictured Vince naked, his cock in his fist as he stroked its length, eyes fixed on her. "You wank and think about fucking me, don't you, Vince," Wendy gasped. She pushed the young man away, eyes locked on his face. Vince nodded. "All the time, Wendy," he grunted, his stare hot-eyed and feral. He pawed at the bulge in his jeans, the movement drawing Wendy's attention. "I think about all the stuff I want to do to you, Wendy," he groaned. "About fucking you and what it would be like if you sucked me." "Oh God," sobbed Wendy. "Vince..." And then Marian's voice smashed into Wendy's consciousness. ** Wendy rubbed herself and thought about what might have happened if Marian hadn't called. She imagined Vince's mouth locked with hers, their tongues sliding and slipping over and over. Wendy pictured herself squatting, skirt bunched around her waist, fingers inside her own knickers, tickling her clitoris as she held Vince's length in her free hand, her lips wrapped around the cock-head. Things had been so heated between them that Wendy could easily see herself braced against the kitchen counter, her buttocks thrust back as she offered herself to the young man, while the reality was she was in her bed, groaning, pussy sluicing around her fingers, three digits wedged into her opening. "Fuck me," she grunted to her fantasy lover. "Fuck that pussy, Vince. Drive your cock into me and make me scream." It had been a close call, Marian's voice preceding her arrival by mere seconds. Despite her manipulation of her own sex, vulva greasy, clitoris tingling, insides beginning to clench, Wendy winced at what might have been if she and Vince hadn't broken away from one another. The scare had cooled Wendy's ardour, given her such a fright that she vowed to leave it alone, to never take a risk like it again. For the rest of that evening she'd avoided the hungry looks Vince threw at her, made sure there was no opportunity for him to make any further advances. Wendy had made an excuse, muttered about it having been a long day and fled to her bedroom. She had kissed her son goodnight, wished everyone a merry Christmas and then taken refuge, claiming the onset of a headache. Vince had paused at her door and knocked. "Go away," Wendy had hissed. "Leave me alone, Vince." And then, in a desperate effort to get rid of him she had said, "Tomorrow. Talk to me tomorrow, Vince. We can't do anything now. They're just downstairs. It's too dangerous." With great reluctance Vince had left, expression downcast as the light from the hall backlit his face and he closed the door. At first Wendy had been relieved Vince had gone. She was surprised that he hadn't pressed the issue, the ardour of a young man at nineteen being what it was. Wendy had thought Vince might protest and make some clumsy attempt, but it seemed residual authority as his mother's friend had persuaded Vince to leave her alone, a psychological throw-back to when he was younger and easily influenced. Then, in the dark, the memory of what occurred stirred. Wendy's libido, which had been on simmer all evening, boiled over and she began to imagine different scenarios. Soon enough she was writhing and panting and fingering her pussy, desperate to orgasm. Her climax hit, finally rolling over Wendy in a hot rush that had her gasping and muttering obscenities into the dark. But the problem was that orgasm did nothing to dilute her desire. She lay on her side, hand wedged between her thighs, knees drawn up as the fantasy continued. Wendy started again, gasping at how over-sensitive her clitoris had become, wincing and moaning yet unable to resist the demands her body placed on her for relief. She threw back the quilt after flicking the switch on the bedside lamp, cursing as she unzipped her holdall and rummaged for the rubber dildo she had stashed inside a folded tee-shirt. Wendy clambered back into bed and splayed her labia with her fingertips, sighing as her opening accepted the first inches of malleable latex. She got herself there by fucking the dildo in and out in a hard and fast frenzy, punishing herself for her lewd imaginings about her best friend's son. "Fuck," Wendy hissed, with her fist tight around the girth of the dildo as she jammed it home. "Fuck that big cock into me, Vince. Oh, baby, yes, it feels so fucking good." She came again, grunting and biting back on the bellow she wanted to let rip, the pleasure forcing great gasps from her chest. But even that climax couldn't take the edge off Wendy's craving. She lay on her bed, naked, chest heaving as she looked down past her breasts to where the dildo hung out of her body, half its length still inside her. Wendy knew what was going to happen next. Even as she denied it to herself, as though caught in some out of body experience she watched herself ease the dildo out of her body and roll upright so she was sitting on the edge of the bed. "Don't," Wendy muttered to herself. But she stood up and walked to her bedroom door, lifting the dressing gown from the hook. The door opened and Wendy padded along the corridor, bare feet against the carpet, the house quiet around her, night sounds of cooling radiators, Marian's home breathing softly in the aftermath of Christmas. She arrived at Vince's door and hesitated, casting a glance down the hall towards Marian's room. Wendy turned, swivelling hallway around as though she'd changed her mind, but her desire was too strong, morality defeated by lust. She reached for the doorknob, sighed once, and the twisted it, pushing the door open. ** Vince was tugging his cock when the door opened. He had revisited the incredible scene in the kitchen, the time when Wendy had invited him to hug her. At that moment he thought a hug was all that would be forthcoming, but she'd surprised him by her response to his admission over how he felt. She had smelled so good during that embrace, with the scent and the heat coming off her, Vince had been aroused by the assault on his senses and Wendy's proximity. He'd blurted how he felt about her on a rush of need for her to understand, and she had replied by saying she knew how it felt. Then his hands were full of her. Through her clothes admittedly, but he was touching Wendy where modesty and propriety had forbidden before. She was there, her buttocks taut under his fingers, his cock stiff because of it. The things Wendy had said! Her use of profanity had shocked and thrilled Vince. He had never heard Wendy swear before, and her use of the words fuck and wank, hearing them come from her and the timbre in her voice as she uttered the obscenities filled him with that desperate urge, the deep drag in his vitals that could only be assuaged by his climax. Vince moaned and worked at his cock, his head filled with imaginings of Wendy's ripe, voluptuous body revealed to his hungry stare. He was hard, rigid in his fist as he pumped away, wishing Wendy would ride his cock, her big tits swinging before he mauled at them and sucked her nipples between his lips. A Pendant for Wendy He was getting there, was so close to the explosion, the surge in his cock threatening to burst out of him in a heavy outpouring of ejaculate when he sensed the door opening. "What?" Vince gasped as his head turned and his hands scrabbled at the quilt. The indistinct shadow flitted briefly against the oblong of slightly less dark space before the door slid closed. Vince heard the sibilant shush of the door edge moving over the carpet a moment before the definite metallic snick told him someone was in the room with him, on his side of the closed door. He opened his mouth to utter her name, stopping the word just in time in case it wasn't Wendy who had entered. Then Vince experienced a flush of shock and delight when his name came out of the dark on a murmur. "It's me, Vince," Wendy added. "I ... I can't help it. I had to come." Vince swallowed heavily and sat up. He blinked and then, keeping his voice low, asked, "Shall I turn on the light?" "Uh-okay..." Wendy was standing with her back to the door. Vince looked at her and saw the mixture of fear and yearning in her expression before he glanced at the heart-shaped pendant just visible between the towelling epaulettes of Wendy dressing gown. He saw Wendy's throat work as she swallowed whatever emotion she was feeling. "What do you want, Wendy?" Vince asked. She stared at him for several seconds and then shook her head. "Do you want to see me, Vince?" she asked. Excitement ballooned beneath Vince's ribs, an anxious swelling that made the breath catch in his chest. "Wendy," he croaked, "can I? Do you mean...?" He nodded in her direction, indicating Wendy's robe. Wendy nodded and replied with, "Yes, Vince, naked." The bed moved and creaked. "Yes," Vince hissed. "Oh god, Wendy ... Yes." Wendy smirked and took a pace into the room. "Shush," she said. "Not so loud." She cast a glance at the door, her meaning obvious. Wendy took a few more steps, going right up to the edge of the bed. "I'll show you," she added, the grin widening. "But let me see you first." She reached out, leaning forward to grasp the quilt at Vince's waist. "Look at that," breathed Wendy, eyes on the long thick tumescence that lay over Vince's stomach after she'd whisked the bed cover away. "You're hard," Wendy added with a moan. "So big and stiff." Her eyes went up from the sight of Vince's arousal to his face. "And so fit ... Vince, your stomach and chest are lovely. You're a beautiful example of a man." The compliments filled Vince with confidence. Wendy liked him; in fact she was positively drooling. "And you're beautiful, Wendy," he replied. "It's because you're so sexy that I've got a hard-on. You make me feel so good." Doubt clouded Wendy's face. "Looking at you," she murmured with a shake of her head, "I'm not sure. You're so fit, Vince. Your body ... God, just look at you, all tight and firm ... I'm an old woman, Vince. I'm not like I used to be. I'm not a stick-thin model or anything." Vince scrambled onto his knees, erection waggling, forgotten for the time being. "Wendy," he said, voice quiet yet urgent. "I don't care about anything like that. I just think you're gorgeous." Vince lifted his hands but was reluctant to touch Wendy, still bound by the last threads of convention and decorum regardless of his nudity. He shook his head and blew out his cheeks in frustration. He had to make her understand. "You're pretty," Vince added. "I love the way you dress..." Vince rolled his eyes and grinned with relish. "You show off what you've got without being tarty, Wendy." His eyes roved over the swell of Wendy's bosom beneath the robe. "I've thought about your boobs, Wendy. God, I've thought about seeing them and holding them..." Wendy gazed at Vince, stared into his eyes and heard the sincerity in his voice. "Okay," she said, nodding. "All right. If you want to see them..." A gasp burst out of Vince, his eyes huge and round as he gawped at Wendy's breasts. "Fuck," he mumbled, gazing in apparent awe. Wendy chuckled. "They're just tits, Vince." His eyes went up to hers. Vince gulped. "Wow ... Wendy ... Yes, but..." Wendy shrugged. "Touch them if you want." Vince's hands moved slowly, his fingertips testing breast-flesh, his expression absorbed. "Fuck," he muttered again. "Fucking lovely." Vince sighed and began to squeeze, one hand on Wendy's body, the other moving to his cock. "Suck them," Wendy breathed. Her head lolled back and she offered her breasts to Vince's lips. "Suck my tits, baby." Then Vince had both hands at her, pressing the outer flanks of Wendy's breasts, his tongue sliding from one nipple to its twin and back again. He was moaning, slurping and licking and sucking at Wendy's thick, elongated teats. "Don't make so much noise," cautioned Wendy. "Your mum..." "I'm sorry," Vince whispered. "But, fuck, Wendy ... This is killing me. I just want to ... to ... to..." Wendy pulled away from Vince. "I know." Her eyes rolled. "Believe me, Vince, I know. But we can't make noise." "Can I see the rest of you?" Vince reached for the robe held up around Wendy's waist by the crooks of her elbows. He yanked insistently and then mumbled an oath when the dressing gown tumbled to the floor. "Duh-do you like me?" Wendy asked, stuttering. There was a long pause, Vince's eyes locked on that place at the junction of Wendy's thighs. Then he looked up, head tilted slightly back because of Wendy's height in relation to him kneeling on the bed. "You're kidding?" Vince breathed. He grinned at Wendy and flicked a glance at her depilated mons. "You're fucking perfect, Wendy. Absolutely fucking fan-fucking-tastic." The track of Vince's stare moving over her body filled Wendy with delight. His words thrilled her, the look in his eyes, the hunger she saw made her brazen and she flaunted herself at him. With the dressing gown around her feet, the gentle glow from the lamp kind to her skin, Wendy stepped back and placed both hands on her hips. She thrust her mons towards Vince, revelling in his glitter-eyed appraisal as she said, "Is this what you wanted to see, Vince?" Wendy's hands moved, palms sliding over her skin before she hefted the weight of her breasts, tit-flesh spilling over her fingers. "Are my tits all that you thought they would be?" She eased her feet wider, shoving her sex even further forward. "Did my pussy surprise you?" Wendy chuckled and winked, tongue clicking against the roof of her mouth. "Didn't expect it to be all smooth, did you, baby? You thought it was going to be a right bush down there, eh?" Vince nodded, head going up and down while his mouth hung open. "I don't mind either way, Wendy," he gurgled eventually. "I thought it would be hairy, but it's like that." Wendy's chin nudged forward. "That thing's an eye-opener." Vince looked down to the jib of his erection, its steel undiminished during their conversation. "It is?" he asked, blinking up at Wendy again. She grinned and winked once more. "Oh yes, Vince. You haven't disappointed me." Then Wendy stepped forward, kicking her feet clear of her dressing gown, tutting at the minor irritation. "Lie down," Wendy muttered, a hand on Vince's shoulder. "On the bed, stretch out so I can touch you." Vince levered himself onto his side, rolling over until he was laid full-length on top of his bed. "Can I touch you, too?" he asked. "Anywhere you want, darling," breathed Wendy. She scooped the rigid length up with one hand, stroking its length, fingers squeezing a groan and an eye-roll from Vince. "Touch my breasts, feel my skin," whispered Wendy. "Feel me between my legs if you can, Vince," she added. "I'm so hot and wet down there. I'm so fucking turned on." Vince gulped, his gaze fixed on Wendy's hand moving up and down the length of his cock. "I ... I want to fuck you, Wendy," Vince moaned, hips lifting from the bed as he fucked into Wendy's fist. "I want to do it with you." Wendy paused, the reality of the situation percolating through lust and desire and yearning. She looked into Vince's face and said, "I don't know if we can, Vince." She shook her head. "It would get too crazy, too out of control. The bed," Wendy indicated Vince's bed with the forefinger of the hand not filled with his gristle. "There'd be too much noise from the bed bouncing about under us. We'd make so much noise ... I'd want to scream the place down, Vince. I'd get all vocal and shout at you to fuck me." "But I really want to stick it in you, Wendy?" Vince whined. He thrust at Wendy's hand in emphasis. "Please. Can't I fuck you?" He began to babble, words tumbling out on a tide of desperation. "We could do it on the floor," Vince jabbered. "Or I could get behind you. You could stand up with your hands against the wall. I could get behind you and do it that way. That'd be great. I could hold your tits and fuck at the same time. Wendy ... Please, Wendy ... Can't we do it like that?" It was tempting. So very tempting. He was so full of vigour and desperation. Wendy closed her eyes and pictured herself in the pose Vince had described. She could see herself, hips thrust back in invitation while Vince's fingers dug into her hips, him thrusting at her, his cock swelling inside her as his grip went from her hips to her breasts. Wendy heard herself muttering for her lover to maul her tits and to fuck his meat in and out of her sodden pussy. "Oh, Vince," she sighed. "If only, darling." Wendy began to tug at his length again, her fist working faster. "I'd love to feel you inside me," she whispered. "God, but it would be lovely to have you there." Vince grunted and gasped and mumbled incoherently. His eyes closed and he winced, his cock leaking pre-cum that squelched obscenely while Wendy cranked away. "Shit," Vince hissed, his eyes snapping open after nearly a minute of Wendy's hand action. "I'm going to--" he grunted. Wendy dropped Vince's penis, the head and stalk slapping back against his stomach. "Not yet," she said. "It's too soon, Vince." Hauling himself up onto one elbow, Vince grabbed his cock. "I was wanking when you came in," he responded, yanking himself. "I was thinking about you and playing with myself when you came in." "You dirty bugger," Wendy replied with a low chuckle and a smirk. She slapped at Vince's hand. "Stop that," she chided. "You can pull it in a minute. In fact..." Wendy stood up and turned to face the bed. Vince mumbled an oath and reached up to caress a dangling breast as Wendy first knelt on the mattress and then, after swatting Vince's pawing hand away, she lay down on her side. "In fact, she continued, her hip nudging Vince so he shuffled across to give her room, "you can kneel up and wank that thing for me." Wendy's knees folded and her thighs dropped apart. "Get there between my legs, Vince. Wank your cock for me. I want to watch you while I have a little play myself." A pause of a few beats while Vince's brain soaked up the request, and then he moved on his knees, upright and erect, hard-on in his fist as he stared down at Wendy. "Fuck, Wendy," Vince sighed, fist working hard and fast. "You're gorgeous. Really fucking lovely." "Show me, Vince," the woman urged. "Wank and show me how much I turn you on." Wendy gasped and moaned, thighs shivering as her hips juddered in response to the sensations between her legs. Her fingers stirred her vulva, an occasional digit diddling at her clit as she stared at the terrible length of Vince's arousal. "Pump it, Vince," Wendy groaned. "Wank that lovely cock." Vince used one hand on his member, the palm of the other hand sliding over Wendy's skin. He squeezed the spongy softness of Wendy's breasts, the texture of that flesh fascinating him. He leaned over, bending at the waist as he sucked Wendy's nipples, his mouth moving up to hers before, following the merest hesitation from Wendy, she accepted his tongue. "Can I fuck you, Wendy?" Vince mumbled. "Please." "Vince," Wendy gasped, her fingers working at her slippery folds. "Just wank. Just pull your cock, darling. You'd come if you put it in. I know you would. You'd slide in and you'd come." "But I want to come," replied Vince, his voice rising. "Wendy ... I'm ... I'm..." Wendy heard the inevitability in Vince's croaking voice. She saw his fist working at his length, watched the thing swelling, the head all big and purple and dangerous. "Then let it go when it comes, Vince," she grunted, her own climax building, a reaction to witnessing a fit young man masturbating. "Just let it pour out, darling. It'll get me there too. I'll come if I see the hot stuff pour out of you. Vince, oh, fuck, Vince, come for me, baby." And then a splash of viscous gloop flicked across Wendy's stomach. She looked down and saw the long splat of jizm settled there, glistening on her skin, and it took a moment for Wendy to truly realise Vince was coming. Her brain refused to accept he was really letting it go as she stared at the splash of silvery ejaculate, her mind boggling that it was Vince, Marian's son whose semen had landed on her with such force. Then more of the stuff spattered onto her, a dollop plopping onto one breast before another more violent spurt flicked across her chin and lips, its gooey trail laid over the bridge of Wendy's nose. "My face," Wendy hissed, somehow remembering to keep her voice low. "You've spunked on my face, Vince." But Vince didn't care. He was in that place, lost to her. He was yanking his cock, low grunts coming out of him as his semen rained down, an indiscriminate deluge of pent-up desire and frustration finally released. Jizm spattered onto Wendy's stomach, more of it spraying over her forearm as she wiped at the stuff already coating her skin, yet more cascading onto her thigh. Vince held onto himself and aimed the cock-head right at Wendy's vulva, the final squirts hitting labia already slick and wet, greasy and tacky with Wendy's own fluids. "Oh my God," Wendy mumbled, fingers smeared with ejaculate. "I'm covered in it." And then, while Vince sucked in deep breaths, his eyes taking in the ruin of Wendy's skin spattered with semen, the woman herself rubbed at her sex and coaxed a juddering paroxysm of clench-teethed pleasure from her body. Wendy gasped and moaned, the muscles in her thighs jumping, nerveless as her climax boiled and seethed, her fingers mauling at her breasts, Vince's jizm smearing everywhere. It took a minute and more for Wendy to calm, the shuddering orgasm rolling on, its momentum slowing until, finally, while her breasts rolled and her ribcage heaved, she sucked in deep breaths and fixed Vince with a clear-eyed stare. "That was good," Wendy sighed. "So very good." She dabbed at the gloop that covered her, scooping the thick rope from her chin and bridge of her nose with the edge of a finger. "And how much spunk did you spray over me?" Wendy grinned and jack-knifed at the waist, levering herself upright until she could lean even further forward. Then, bending over she reached for Vince's cock, the thing dribbling jizm yet still firm, its vigour only slightly diminished. "I'd better go now," mumbled Wendy before she pressed pursed lips to the tip of Vince's penis. Her tongue slid around the big plum and she closed her eyes and moaned. "I'd better get out of here before we end up doing it." Vince collapsed onto his bed, his attention fixed on Wendy as she bent to retrieve her dressing gown. "Do you have to go?" he asked, eyes beseeching. Wendy nodded, her expression an indication of her regret, the temptation to simply straddle the young man strong yet beatable. Fingers of guilt were already beginning to take hold of her. Wendy thought of Marian and the betrayal she'd already laid upon her friend. "I ... I have to, Vince." Vince groaned and closed his eyes as Wendy covered her nakedness. "But what we did," he said. Vince stroked his penis. "Look at it, it's still hard. Wendy, we could do it." However, regardless of how tempted she was by the sight of Vince's potency, no matter how good she knew it would be if she climbed onto the bed and just squatted over Vince, his cock filling her insides with heat and power, Wendy refused to be dissuaded from her course of self-denial. "No, Vince, we can't. The noise ... Your mother ... I can't, darling." She turned to leave, tightening the belt of her robe around her waist. "Tomorrow?" Wendy turned back when she heard the desperation in Vince's voice. She stared at him for a long time, seconds ticking by, mind awhirl with conflict. "I don't know, Vince," she said eventually. Then she shook her head. "No," Wendy added. "I don't think it would be a good idea." ** She woke late and sat up in bed blinking at the sunlight that backlit the curtains. It was warm in the room, warm enough for Wendy to let the cover fall from her body as she examined the crusty patches of dried semen that patterned her breasts and stomach. She pulled a face and the residue of the stuff Vince had let fly at her cheek and chin stretched tight. Wendy had forgone a visit to the bathroom after leaving Vince's room. She'd been reluctant to wash him off her body for some reason, and had lain awake in bed for a long time thinking about her transgression, the musky scent of jizm wafting up at her from the warm bed. The presence of that stuff on her skin reminded Wendy of how it had come to be there. She recalled the events of the previous night, her pussy clenching, hungry and unfulfilled. "Oh god," Wendy sighed. "What have I done?" She slid a hand under the pillow next to her, fingers finding the dildo nestled beneath. A minute later, after a short yet intense internal struggle, Wendy was sliding the length of the dildo between her labia. She mumbled and sighed and moaned as the gnarled rubber, the exaggerated bumps and protrusions moulded to represent thick veins on a cock, bumped over her clitoris. Soon after her capitulation to her body's urges, Wendy had the thing inside her body, fucking it into her opening as she brought the images of what she'd experienced with Vince back to life. Wendy imagined the two of them on some tropical holiday, alone together where they were free from restraint and where Marian didn't exist. They were joined together under a hot sun, outdoors, rutting like beasts, Wendy groaning and grunting while Vince moved inside her, his erection filling her. Wendy pulled the dildo out of her body and licked her own desire from it, pretending it was Vince's penis she was sucking. She could picture his face as she performed the lewd act; Wendy could hear his gasp of disbelief. Then she was fucking herself again, one hand tight around the latex girth while the middle finger of her free hand taunted her clitoris. Wendy was getting there, the orgasm looming, rising up to take her while she called to mind the suggestion Vince had made. With the climax threatening to explode Wendy saw herself standing up, forearms and elbows braced against a wall while she offered her sex to Vince behind her. His fingers were pressing into her hips, her breasts swung and swayed, and her pussy was stretched by the swollen girth of his erection. "Fuck me," Wendy grunted. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me." And then there was a knock at the door. A tight band of panic forced the breath out of Wendy. She laid there, her back resting at forty-five degrees, propped up by pillows, legs bent at the knees, half the dildo's length hanging out of her. She recovered in the blink of an eye and pulled the cover up over her breasts. "Yes?" warbled Wendy, voice tremulous on the adrenalin surge. The door opened. Wendy blinked. "What are you doing here?" she said, surprised to see Vince in the doorway. "Get out," she added, shooing him away with a waving arm. A Pendant for Wendy Vince glanced to his right, looking down the corridor, checking no one was there to hear him speak. He looked at Wendy and raised the cup he carried in his left hand. "It's okay. Mum asked me to bring you a coffee." He took a step inside the bedroom and then hesitated. "I need to talk to you, Wendy," Vince added. "About last night." Wendy closed her eyes and shook her head. "No, Vince, please. Don't." She kept her eyes squeezed shut, as though by denying his presence he wouldn't really be there. But the ostrich tactic didn't work. Wendy heard Vince's feet moving over the carpet. She heard the thunk of the cup on the bedside table. "Wendy," Vince murmured. She opened her eyes and blinked up at him. "I can't stop thinking about it, Wendy," Vince said. He threw another worried look at the door. "You touched me. You ... you ... you did it to me. You touched my cock, Wendy. And you let me touch you. We kissed. I ... I did it all over you. And the things you said and what you did in front of me..." Vince heaved a heavy sight, a huge exhalation that came all the way up from his toes. "...Seeing you do that, with my stuff all over you..." Vince shook his head, gulping, with his eyes wide and fixed on Wendy's face. "It was the sexiest thing I've ever seen or done, Wendy. I want to do it again. I want to do more." Wendy's eyes closed again. She should never have allowed the scene in the kitchen to occur. What she should have done was smile, thank Vince graciously for the pendant gift and then politely but firmly refused it. Going to his room had been a huge error, a mistake of Olympic proportions, and a moment of weak-willed madness that most definitely should have been avoided. As for what happened, what she'd done, the acts she'd been complicit in... If Marian ever found out... "Vince, darling," Wendy said, her voice low. "We can't. We just can't ever do anything like it again. It was great," she added, meaning it, "but the damage would be too much to cope with. Your mum's my best friend. She's my oldest, dearest friend, Vince. She's helped me through some hideous times -- when my own mum died, my divorce..." Vince's head dropped forward. His chin went to his chest, his shoulders slumped. "You're just so fucking lovely," he said, voice creaking. Vince heaved another sigh. "Can I see you again?" he mumbled with a half-shrug. "Your boobs, Wendy? Can I look at them again? Just once more, please?" Wendy's fingers tightened on the bedcover. She pulled the quilt higher, protectively up to her throat, her finger brushing over the pendant. "I'm hard for you, Wendy," Vince mewled, his face twisted with desperation. He rubbed a palm against the front of his jeans. "That's what you do to me. I just think about you, about what we did last night, that's all it takes and I'm stiff." "Vince, no," Wendy said, her tone a warning. "Don't." "Can I just see your boobs, Wendy? Please." He reached for the cover, one hand at the bulge in his jeans. "Please, Wendy," Vince hissed, his eyes glistening, jaw clenched. Wendy was taken by surprise, unprepared for Vince's determined tug at the quilt. She hadn't thought he would actually do anything so rash. "No," she blurted. But it was too late, her breasts were exposed and Vince was staring at her. For a moment they stayed like that, a tableau frozen in time. Wendy lay there, immobile while Vince stood at the side of the bed, his eyes fixed on the prize. It was his expression that did it. When Wendy stared up at Vince she saw such a burning hunger in his eyes, the desire for her so immediately apparent that Wendy experienced a reciprocal burst of lust. Suddenly, without warning, the madness descended. "You've seen them," Wendy said, her voice thick and glutinous. "My breasts, Vince. Take a good look." "Wendy," Vince sighed, eyes bulging. "Fuck ... You're gorgeous." "You should go now, Vince," Wendy added. But she didn't really mean it. Not at that moment, not with desire rushing through her, molten lust siping from her opening. Wendy shifted on the bed, the movement reminding her the dildo was still wedged inside her. She acted without thinking about it. The risk of discovery and the consequences melted away. Wendy looked up at Vince and watched his face as she said, "You've seen my breasts, Vince ... Now, what about this?" Vince boggled, his jaw falling slack, eyes bulging even further when he looked at that place between Wendy's legs and saw what he saw. "Wendy, I ... You," Vince gabbled. He blinked and blew out his cheeks and glanced around at the bedroom door. "I was wanking when you knocked, Vince," Wendy said. "I was thinking about how you came all over me and using this." She eased the dildo from her body and held it up for Vince to stare at. Vince's mouth worked, opening and closing several times before he managed an inarticulate croak. "Do you want to watch me fuck myself with this, Vince?" said Wendy. Vince nodded, slack jaw wobbling as he continued to gaze at the latex cock. "Yes please," he mumbled. The dildo waggled in Wendy's fist as she shook it, a deliberate provocation intended to enflame Vince. "All right then," Wendy grinned. She threw a look at the open door. "But not yet," she added. "Later ... When we get the chance." "But..." Vince gasped. "We can't, Vince," Wendy said, interrupting the blurted protest. "Not with people around." She slid the ridged shaft of the dildo against her clit, wincing and groaning, tempted to throw caution to the wind. "Fuck, Wendy," muttered Vince, his hand pawing at himself again. "That's so fucking sexy. Do it again, please." Wendy considered the lewd request for a second, running the scene through in her mind. She could see herself sliding the rubber cock-head into her opening, legs wide so Vince could watch. In her head she imagined Vince hauling his hard-on out of his jeans, his fist working at it while he stared at her. It was close to being a reality, so near to the point where Wendy succumbed, but a bump from deeper in the house snapped her back to the immediate. "Later, Vince," hissed Wendy. "I think Daniel's coming." She shooed at him again, waving her arm as she yanked the cover up. "Not now. Another time. When we're alone. Thanks for the coffee, Vince," added Wendy, voice raised, exaggerated for the benefit of her son who came bounding along the landing. "Tell your mum I'm getting up. I'm just going to sip this coffee and then have a shower. Hello, Danny!" Wendy trilled when Daniel halted outside her door. "Did you sleep well?" ** What was left of that Boxing Day morning dragged for Vince. The 26th of December passed with an interminable crawl as far as he was concerned. His head was filled with what had occurred, the unbelievable scene in his bedroom the night before and the sight of that dildo just hanging there between Wendy's legs that morning. Vince couldn't concentrate, constantly distracted by what he'd seen and heard and done, the promise of more to come pushing any other thoughts from his mind. The everyday part of Vince, the moving and talking and interacting with other people part operated automatically, he acted without thinking. Several times he found himself in the middle of something he had no recollection of starting. On one occasion he suddenly woke up, like being finger-snapped out of a trance by some stage hypnotist to find himself in front of the kitchen counter, kettle boiling away. Vince blinked and stared around like an idiot until the dim recollection surfaced that he was brewing tea for his dad. All he could think about was Wendy and what she'd suggested would happen in the future. Something thrilling and very exciting to look forward to, better than Christmas, but the problem, so frustrating for Vince, was there was no fixed date or time. All he had was a vague reference to later, when they were alone, but with it being the holiday season there were no guarantee that situation might occur. Even worse, Vince realised, was that Wendy and Daniel were due to go home two days hence. They were returning to Scotland for the New Year, Hogmanay, so what if the opportunity never arose. Vince was also concerned by Wendy's propensity to vacillate. What if she changed her mind, again? She blew hot and cold, often mentioning his mother and how they couldn't do anything. But then she'd swing the other way and get all hot and bothered and turn suddenly mad for it. "Shit," Vince muttered as he poured milk into his father's tea. What if Wendy left without them having the chance to be alone? What if she had another attack of the morals? Vince carried the mug of steaming tea into the living room. His father thanked him but Vince didn't really hear, he was too busy fretting over the potential for the chance to be with Wendy -- properly with her -- to pass him by. The rest of the morning passed in a similar fugue, everyone else -- with perhaps the exception of Wendy -- enjoying the festivities. Leftovers for lunch preceded the long drag of the afternoon. Vince drank four cans of Stella while he stared at the television, loathing his own family because their presence meant he had no chance with Wendy. Afternoon turned to evening, the milky December sunshine abruptly diminished by the time the clock showed the hour of four. The fairy lights twinkled on the tree, radiator warmth made the house comfortable, a lamp in the corner of the living room bathed the place in a soft glow, and Vince's father seemed well entrenched in his armchair as he stared at the television. Dean started it off. He was sitting on the sofa, Daniel next to him, an elbow wedged against the armrest, cheek on his fist, the epitome of post-Christmas boredom. Wendy sat on the opposite end of the three-seater sofa from Dean while Marian was in an armchair, one of the two that matched the settee, the other occupied by Jim, her husband. "Can I go around to Simon's?" Dean asked. "He's got the new Playstation. Can I go and see what it's like?" "What time will you be home?" Marian responded, turning her face to her youngest son. Dean shrugged. "Ten?" he suggested, hopeful. Marian pouted, considering. Then she nodded. "Yes, all right. But can Daniel go too? He's as bored as you are." Dean looked dubious for a moment. He was about to protest but decided to be generous since he was allowed to stay out until ten o'clock. He shrugged and said, "Sure. Why not?" He looked at Daniel. "Coming?" he asked. The two boys left after Wendy agreed to the timings. "What about us?" Vince's father asked. He rubbed his hands together and smirked at his wife. "How about a drink down at the Red Lion? Get out of the house for a bit?" That was the moment Vince entered. He'd been upstairs in his room, hoping that Wendy would pay a visit. A plan thwarted. "What's up?" said Vince, his usual greeting rather than a proper question. "Your dad's on about going for a drink at the Red Lion," Marian replied. "What about it, Vince? Do you fancy a pint?" Before Vince could reply, he heard Wendy interject. "Why don't you and Jim go out," she suggested. "Just the two of you." She threw a look at Vince. "Spend a bit of time together," she added. "We'll be okay here, won't we, Vince?" Vince struggled to maintain a calm exterior. Excitement swelled in his chest, his penis thickened instantly. He gulped and nodded. "Oh yeah," shrugged Vince, attempting to appear nonchalant, making out he didn't have a care. He nodded at the television. "I'll be okay with a couple of cans and whatever's on telly." Marian frowned. "Oh, we couldn't go out and leave you in, Wendy," she said. "You're a guest. It wouldn't be right." A leaden sinker of disappointment dropped into Vince's stomach. But then he heard Wendy say, "After all these years, Marian?" She chuckled and waved Marian's protest away. "You don't have to worry about me. Vince can keep me entertained." Vince couldn't look at Wendy, not after that oblique reference to carnal delights. He willed his mother to acquiesce. He was desperate to get his parents out of the house. Then he remembered his brother and Daniel. "Gone out," he was informed by his mother. "Round at Simon's. Some new game thing or whatever. Won't be in till ten." Marian looked at Wendy and then turned to her husband. "What about it, Jim? Me and you, at the pub?" Vince's stomach flipped when his father nodded and heaved himself out of the arm chair. ** Vince looked at Wendy after the front door banged shut. She sat on the edge of the seat, knees together, hands clasped over the twin saucers of the patella. "Turn the television off, Vince," said Wendy. "Now what?" asked Vince, his tremulous voice matching his trembling hands. "Isn't this what you wanted?" Wendy fixed Vince with an appraising stare, her eyebrows arched. Vince gulped. "Yes," he mumbled. "But..." "Nervous?" said Wendy, rising to her feet. Vince swallowed again, nodding. "Well, Vince," Wendy said as she took a pace towards him. "So am I. I'm worried about where this is going to go. I'm shit scared your mother will find out and hate me." She moved closer, her stare never leaving Vince's creased, frowning countenance. "But," she added, "I can't help myself. No matter how much I tell myself I shouldn't be doing this, I can't stop it." Wendy stopped less than a foot from where Vince stood. He gasped when she placed a cupped hand against the front of his jeans. "Where do you want to do it?" Wendy breathed. Vince burst into action. He toed the heels of his training shoes off, scraping the back of them down impatiently, eager to get out of his clothes. His fingers scrabbled at his belt and the button of his jeans before he pushed them halfway down his thighs. Then, with his cock jutting up to tent his boxer shorts, the hard-on slipping through the vent, Vince reached for Wendy, fingers tugging at the elastic waistband of her tracksuit bottoms. "Take your clothes off," Wendy snarled, Vince's ardour infecting her. "I'll be back." Vince hopped around, yanking off his socks, almost stumbling into the Christmas tree in his haste. He pulled his jeans off, peeling his jumper and tee-shirt off in one lump. He hurried into the kitchen and opened the fridge, reaching inside for a can of beer. Vince popped the tab and drank, great swallows working in his throat while footsteps sounded from the floor above. Vince took the can into the living room, arriving just as Wendy returned. "Fuck," Vince muttered when he saw she was naked. "I brought a towel," said Wendy. "Let me sit on it," she added, spreading the gaudy orange and red beach towel across the settee. Wendy smoothed out the wrinkles one-handed out of necessity because of the dildo clamped in her other fist. "There," she said, turning. "Give me a sip of that beer and we can get to it." Vince handed over the can, watching while Wendy took a deep draught. Then he stared at her as she returned the can to him, with Wendy sitting on the sofa, legs going wide. "If we're going to do this," she muttered, one hand cupping a heavy breast, "then we're going to do it properly. I want you to watch me use this on myself, Vince. You watch me fuck my pussy with this, and no wanking from you. Don't touch your cock. Just watch me and then I'll suck you and wank you and..." Wendy paused, gasping and wincing as she split the folds of her sex with the shaft of the dildo. "...And then we can fuck, Vince. We can fuck tonight and then, maybe, if you're any fucking good, perhaps you could come back to Scotland with me. We can fuck the New Year in. How would you like that?" "Oh my God," Vince gasped. And then he watched as Wendy pushed the head of the dildo at her opening, muttering to himself with disbelief as her body accommodated the thing, her cunt hot and scarlet and stretched around its girth. Vince stood there, staring at a sight he'd never experienced before. It was lewd, it was obscene, but it was the single most thrilling event of his life. "Put the can down," Wendy muttered. She was looking up at him through eyes heavy-lidded with need, jaw clenched, the cords in Wendy's neck rigid. She shifted against the cushion, the towel beneath her wrinkling against the press of her buttocks as Wendy worked the dildo into her body. "Put the fucking beer down, Vince," she grunted, easing the length of rubber out of herself. "Sit down. Sit next to me. You can do it to me. I want you to fuck my pussy with this thing." Vince found himself on the settee, the dildo in his hand, Wendy's leg thrown over his thighs, her labia splayed with her fingers. He gaped at the scarlet core of Wendy's body, astounded by what she wanted him to do. Wendy's hips jerked in an urgent signal that she wanted Vince to use the rubber cock against her opening. "For fuck's sake, Vince," she squeaked, grimacing. "Put it in. Fuck me with it." Vince offered the head of the dildo to Wendy's body, his hands shaking as he nudged the cock-head at her opening, her hips lifting as she rose to meet it. At Wendy's snarled instruction Vince pushed past the slight resistance, gasping when the thing just slid inside her, inches of rubber gliding into Wendy up to the buffer of Vince's fist. "Out and in," grunted Wendy. "In and out, Vince. Use it like it's a cock fucking me. You can go hard, darling," she mumbled, hefting her torso at an angle, resting on one elbow so she could watch. "Fuck that thing into me. Go on, Vince. I want to watch your face while you use that dildo on me." Vince squirmed around, turning three-quarters on to Wendy. He had one of her legs across his own body, her thigh draped over his hip. Vince used one hand to comply with Wendy wishes, the dildo sliding in and out of her, his fingers closed tight around the girth of the rubber cock while, with his free hand he mauled at Wendy's rolling breasts. Vince kept it going for more than a minute. He watched Wendy's body accommodate the dildo, heard the squelch and fart of her around the invading shaft, saw her labia clinging to the shaft on the outstroke, and he boggled at the way her body bulged, the cerise flesh stretched tight in the seconds before he plunged the thing back into her. Then he leaned in to first suck on Wendy's nipples before he craned further forward and kissed her mouth. Wendy's palms came up to his face, her hands against his cheeks as she sucked Vince's tongue, her breath panting into his open mouth. "Vince," Wendy grunted, the words beginning to bubble out of her. "Fuck it into me, baby. Get me there, Vince. I don't care about anything but you and that thing in my cunt. I want to do this all the time, Vince. I want you to come home with me, to Scotland. I want us to be together this Hogmanay." "Can I?" Vince replied, his gaze on Wendy's face. "God, yes, Vince," wailed Wendy as she went up on the palms of her hands, lifting her pelvis so she could meet every thrust of Vince's fist, the dildo filling her. "I'm going fucking crazy like this. I can't sneak around anymore. Come to Scotland..." Wendy paused and gulped, eyes rolling while her head lolled back. She had moved her position, shifted and lifted herself up on straight arms, fucking down onto the dildo that Vince, by then, was merely holding upright. "...Come up there with me, Vince," Wendy continued, grunting and gasping. "We can do this whenever we want." "When Daniel's not around," Vince responded. "Yes," Wendy hissed. "Of course when Daniel's not around. Of course, not, Vince. But he'll be out of the house with his pals ... He'll be in his bed." Wendy grunted and groaned again, breasts swaying as she rode up and down, goo sliding out of her to coat the latex shaft in Vince's hand. A Pendant for Wendy "And we can fuck, Vince," Wendy snarled. "In my bed. All fucking night. You can fuck me, Vince. Any way you want to. I'll get on my knees and you can fuck me doggy. I'll ride your cock..." Wendy mauled her breasts and forced her lips against Vince's mouth. She kissed him, wild and desperate before breaking away with a long groan. "Do you want to do that, Vince?" grunted Wendy. "Do you?" "Can I fuck you now, Wendy?" Vince replied. "Please." He was tugging his cock, working at himself as he half-knelt, half-sat on the sofa. Vince had hold of the dildo with one hand, his free hand cranking at his erection as he stared at Wendy. "Soon, darling," Wendy mumbled, the words coming out thick and guttural. She stared off, eyes glazed, her torso convulsing. "I'm going to come ... Oh, fuck, I'm going to come." Wendy bounced up and down, one hand on her breasts, fingers tweaking nipples already swollen and pink while she rubbed at the apex of her slit, teasing her clitoris with vague circular sweeps of her fingers. "Kiss me, Vince," Wendy breathed. "Kiss me while I do it." Vince's tongue was in Wendy's mouth when she climaxed. He cranked at his cock while Wendy's body heaved and bucked, great grunts and moans bursting out of her, the orgasm ripping through Wendy as she forced herself down onto the dildo. Vince released the thing, almost its entire length absorbed by Wendy's body, the stub at its end the only part of the rubber cock visible while Wendy snorted and squirmed through her climax. He rolled down onto the carpet, kneeling as Wendy collapsed against the sofa, Vince's lips searching for one of Wendy's nipples. "Oh fuck," Wendy groaned, fingers sloshing around her vulva. "Suck my tits, baby," she gasped. "That's it, Vince," Wendy squealed, exultant, euphoria at her release from frustration and the sight of Vince's mouth at her breast causing her voice to rise. "I'm yours, darling. Suck my tits, kiss me, lick my pussy. Oh, Vince, please, do anything you want. I'll do everything for you, Vince." "Suck me," Vince snarled, all reticence gone. He was an animal by then, any residual reserve about Wendy's friendship with his mother gone. All Vince thought about at that moment was what he'd seen and done, and what Wendy had promised him. He cranked at his cock and stood up, offering the domed end to Wendy as he worked a fist up and down his length. "Suck my fucking cock," Vince grunted. And then, as Wendy hauled herself upright, just as he mouth opened and she was reaching for Vince's hard-on, semen gushed from the slitted eye and splashed across her cheek. A second burst flicked a long, silvery thread into Wendy's hair. She yelped and instinctively recoiled, her eyes closing as jizm sprayed onto her face. "Fuck!" yelled Wendy. "You've done it again!" Then she started to laugh as Vince grunted and moaned and buckled at the waist, his hand forcing further spurts of semen to spit from his cock. "How much of that stuff can you make?" gasped Wendy, the laugh tapering. "You're a fountain, Vince." "Fuck," Vince snarled in response. "Oh, shit, Wendy..." Semen slid down over the upper slopes of Wendy's breasts, a dollop of the stuff glistening close to the heart-shaped pendant while she leaned forward and took the final, weakening spurts in her mouth. Wendy worked at the root of Vince's cock and grinned up at him. "Okay," she said, backhanding semen from her lips. "Now we better go upstairs, Vince." Wendy waggled the undiminished erection in her hand. "I think it's time we had a nice little fuck." She glanced at the door that led to the hallway and the front door beyond. "Before anyone gets home. Take me to bed and let's fuck."