2 comments/ 28489 views/ 1 favorites The Object By: inkspot72 He snapped open his zippo and lit his cigarette, took a long drag. "You know she hates it when you smoke in here," I reminded him. "She's not here, is she?" and then took another long drag. "Want some?" "I always do," I said. He didn't pass it to me, though. He held it just out of reach of my mouth, and waited. I wrapped my lips around it and inhaled the smoke. They were a little sore from the pounding they'd just taken from his dick. "Another guilty pleasure," I said as I blew out the smoke. "Why should you stop there?" "She's going to catch us one of these days. She's not stupid. Don't you feel bad about it at all?" We'd been carrying on for months right under my roommate's nose. Something about it was so exciting, but the guilt was a bit more than I wanted to deal with. Well, maybe it wasn't guilt. Maybe it was more of a disappointment in myself for breaking the unwritten code, becoming one of the women I'd always looked down on before. I never thought I'd be the kind of woman who would betray a friendship for some cock. "Not one damn bit. Why, do you?" I smoked some more of Chris's cigarette while he held it out for me. He was always so thoughtful after a good blowjob. " How can you not feel bad?" "It's not like we're married. She sees other guys, too. Besides, you fucked me already while she was watching. What's the difference?" "I don't know. I just feel bad sneaking around." "I like it, myself," he grinned. I couldn't help but laugh a little. He put out his smoke and sat up and reached for his t-shirt. "Are you leaving already? I thought we were just taking a break." "Don't worry, I'm gonna take care of ya," he grinned,tossing the shirt. It landed right over my face. "Hey!" I started to move it, but he stopped me. It was soft and dark, and smelled like Chris---a mixture of dial soap, smoke, and coffee. "Don't look, or I'll stop." Then I felt his mouth on my throat, his teeth and his tongue biting and tasting me. He worked down to my tits, sucking one nipple, then the other, then squeezing them together and sucking and biting both at once. He traced a finger over my stomach, down my thigh...started stroking up again. He was teasing the hell out of me...and I really wanted to watch. Finally his fingers slid over my clit, and I felt my whole body try to grind against him, get just a little more pressure there. He pulled away, stroking my thighs again...and then there was nothing but the sound of footsteps walking away. For what seemed like forever, there was silence. Every inch of my flesh was alive and aware, waiting. I realized I'd been biting the shirt a little, unclenched my teeth and let it go. The curiosity was killing me.... Where had he gone? What was he going to do to me next? What was taking so long? I wanted to uncover my eyes, but knew he meant it when he said not to look or he'd stop. Whatever he had planned, the last thing I wanted was for him to stop now. More footsteps. The springs of the bed under his weight. He pushed my knees up and apart. "Oh, thank God you're back and you're going to do something about my pussy," I thought. Out loud there was only a slight gasp and a slow moan. I felt something tracing the same route Chris's mouth had before...over my throat...across my nipples...circling my tits...down my belly...along my thighs. "What is that?" I asked. It was cool and thick and heavy, with some kind of...ridges? notches? Was it metal? Glass? Some kind of plastic? "Just a little something I found. I don't think I'm gonna tell you what it is," he said. "You just rest assured that it's nothing that belongs there." He moved the cloth and kissed me long and deep on the mouth, taking care that my eyes stayed covered, teasing me with the object the whole time. I felt it trace a path over my cunt lips, then felt his fingers spread me open. "Do you want it inside you?" I did want it inside me, whatever it was. The thought of him fucking me with some random thing had me so wet and hot and worked up that all I could do was mutter an "Mmmhhhmmm." "Gotta do better than that," he kept teasing me with it, rubbing my clit with it as he spoke, "Tell me what you want." "Fuck me with it.... Please put it inside me.... You've got me so fucking horny---Just put it in me!" I was lifting my hips, grinding against it, getting so frustrated...I've never been good at waiting. Then I felt it penetrate me--it was so thick and hard, the ridges so familiar, and it was so cold as it sunk into me. All I could hear was the rhythm of my own breathing and moaning, and the slick, almost splashing sound of it sliding back and forth, in and out of my pussy...slow at first, then faster.... I knew whatever it was, he was just watching it glide in and out of me, watching me fuck it, meet it with my hips. "What is it? What are you fucking me with?" "I'm not gonna tell you, but it sure looks pretty going into your pussy. You're gonna have to wonder what it was from now on. You're gonna see all kinds of things around the house and wonder, 'Was that it? Is that what he fucked me with? Is that what I came all over?'." Every stroke brought me closer to the edge, and thinking about what he said put me right there, right where I wanted to be. I felt his fingers circle my clit while he fucked me with it faster and faster. My pussy wrapped it tight, clenching and unclenching, my thighs unconsciously squeezing together as I came in hot, wet waves of pleasure. I don't know how much time passed before Chris asked for his arm back, and I let my legs fall open again. He eased out...whatever it was...and was off. I heard some water running, and then he was back again, his zippo snapping open and striking. He uncovered my face then and asked, "Want some?" The Object Lesson “No,” Carol said emphatically, her small hands gripped tightly onto the edge of our dinette table. “Look I’m just…” “We do not go to him,” she cut in, her eyes suddenly welling up. She spun away from me so fast that she almost stumbled. “I don’t have a lot of other choices out there,” I snapped angrily. “Fuck, I don’t have any other choices.” “He’s…” was all she managed before her voice trailed off into sobs. I got up from my chair and slowly came up behind her, feeling the tremors rocking up through her as I settled a hand on her back. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered close to her ear. She shook her head at the words, biting down on her lower lip as tears streaked her face. It broke my heart how beautiful she was—broke my heart how I’d let her down like this. “You don’t understand,” she muttered, her palm cupped to her mouth as if she were physically sickened by all of this. “I know you two don’t get along,” I answered stupidly, “But…” My wife scissored away the rest of my sentence by jerking free of my touch, inadvertently knocking her empty coffee mug to the floor. “No!” she hissed, glaring at me as she stepped back across the shattered bits of white china. “Never. I’ll never ask him for—for anything.” _________________ I stood in the kitchen for quite a while after she left, numbly picking up the jagged pieces of the broken mug. I was royally screwed and I knew it, thinking how only a day ago I’d been coasting without too many worries. My real estate business was doing fine, and I had a housing development coming together that would more than possibly make Carol and I moderately wealthy. I could literally taste the payoff from it, fully aware that when one of these deals kick in, more of the same tend to fall right in your lap. The problem I’d had, however, was the one most common to small start-up operations, namely cash flow. My pockets weren’t deep enough to handle the construction delays, and my credit was stretched to the absolute max. When the contractor and supply bills started going past due on me, it had been so easy to tap into the escrowed accounts of my real estate clients. I’d juggled the books for months like this—robbing Peter to pay Paul, every week getting closer to that proverbial pot of gold, always keeping my poor wife blithely in the dark as to what I was doing. Then yesterday the floor fell out from under me. One of my bigger clients had gotten suspicious for some reason and had unexpectedly shown up at my office with two of his lawyers and a written demand order on the monies I was supposed to be holding for him. I talked myself sideways with them, but to no avail. He wanted his cash—$127,000.00—and he wanted it then. And, truth be told, I simply did not have it, finally confessing as much when we were out of earshot of his associates. “Well, I recommend you get it, Sir,” he’d said, leaning across my desk with a stubby finger jabbed into my chest. “I recommend you get every nickel it by fuckin’ Friday, or I’ll be forced to have my barristers here contact the DA’s office. That you most certainly do not want. So have my check—my certified check—signed and waiting for me by three o’clock that day. Under-fucking-stood?” I vaguely remember nodding my assent, having understood him in spades. If he went to the authorities, I was cooked. We’d loose everything we had—the development would be in the toilet, the banks would foreclose on the works. That and I’d most certainly be looking at state prison time. I saw my life slipping away as I watched them calmly vacate my office. I wandered around town for hours that afternoon, dreading the thought of telling my wife what I’d done. Carol and I had been married for almost nine years at that point, and she was the absolute center of my existence. We had met on a blind date put together by some mutual friends—I knew from the instant I met her that she was the one. She was so lovely that first evening, her dark curly hair cut short, virtually no makeup. We were both hooked by the end of that night, her shyness and gentle manner coming through with every gesture. Even now, after all those years, I still had never tired of just looking at her, losing myself in the perfect set of her face, in the soft curves that defined her smallish breasts and hips. I made it home after she did that day, her bright smile faltering when she saw the expression on my face. I sat down on the couch beside her and let the whole story come out, the sound of her crying being worse on me than anything else that day. “What do we do?” she whispered hoarsely when I was through. “I don’t know,” I answered, knowing that it was a lie even as I said it. I knew what I wanted to do. And I knew in my heart how Carol would react. “The bank…” “I’m totally tapped with them, babe,” I cut in. “I’m tapped with everyone till we start selling off houses, which is still a minimum of two months from now.” “We have to think of…” “Maybe Jimmy could help?” Carol recoiled at the words, pulling back from me a few inches. She met my eyes and shook her head. “It’s nothing to him,” I pressed. “He’ll get paid back with interest.” “No,” she blurted vehemently, sliding completely out of my reach. “We don’t have anywhere else to go.” “No!” she seethed, breaking into hysterical sobs as she ran from the room. I leaned back on the couch, sighing as I looked up at the ceiling. Jimmy was her brother, older than her by nearly ten years. Other than at family functions she never saw him, and even there, never talked to him; no Christmas cards, no birthday greetings, no nothing. I once tried to broach the subject of their relationship with her, only to have her say—and this from my normally prim wife who wouldn’t say anything much worse that damn or shit—that her only brother was “a no good fucker. A piece of fucking human garbage.” But he was, I knew, a very well off piece of human garbage. He owned a trucking firm in the City and was a millionaire many times over. A gorgeous wife, a beautiful family, a home that could—so I’d been told, as I’d never been there—be described as a mansion. On the few occasions that we’d met, he’d came across to me as a charming, immensely likeable guy; a warm handshake; always a genuinely concerned query about how Carol and I were doing. I’d always been polite and friendly with him in return, always left to silently wonder how a brother and sister could grow so estranged. Sitting on the couch that evening, I once again wondered what had driven the wedge between them. I knew that I had no choice but to contact him, even if it was on my own. All he could say was no. I’d let the subject rest over the rest of that night, but had brought it up again after breakfast the next day. Now, looking down at the broken shards of china in my hand, her almost hateful glare still blistered into my consciousness, I knew I had to drive over the bridge this morning alone. I’d beg if I had to, drop to my knees and plead. I went upstairs after a while, finding Carol balled up in the center of our bed. “I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she whispered. “Its okay, babe,” I said, sitting down next to her as I stroked her dark hair. I felt a sudden urge to make love to her, to glide my mouth down her body, to feel her shiver as I found the small, lovely bud of her clitoris. “You don’t know what he’s…” “You don’t have to say anything,” I said soothingly. “No is no. We’ll get it from someone else, or I’ll figure something out with the development. It’ll work out, I promise you.” “I’m so sorry,” she said, squirming over to come into my arms. I held her there, feeling her tears soak through my shirt, knowing that I was going to do what had to be done. __________ I’d never been to Jimmy’s office before, and was startled by how plush it was. Not at all the rough blue-collar workplace I’d envisioned for a so-called trucking magnate. I had expected an austere room overlooking a grimy warehouse yard loaded with semi’s, not a luxurious suite in an ultra-modern business complex. “Tom, I’m glad you came to see me with this,” Jimmy said as I fitfully concluded my story. “I hated to do it like this, but I…” “Don’t, don’t,” he cut in, waving away my humiliation as if it were cigarette smoke in the air. “I didn’t get where I’m at today without taking a few ethically questionable detours. And like you, a few times I got the old tit caught in the wringer.” “I know the money’s there. It’s just…” “Just this close away,” he laughed, showing be a one-inch gap between his thumb and his forefinger. “Right?” “Yeah,” I said, making my embarrassment evident. “Well, don’t worry about it,” he clucked, slapping a beefy palm down atop his antique desk. “The money’s here, end of story.” “I’ll sign a note for it,” “You betcha will,” he said with a broad smile. “And interest too.” “Market prime. Think it’s like what, six percent or so now?” “Thanks. Thank you so much,” I said with a nod, rising from my high-backed leather chair to offer my hand. The relief I was feeling was so pure that I had a floating sensation. “A note, interest and”—Jimmy smirked, the change of expression so chilling that I felt my legs go weak—“…and you suck my cock for me.” My mouth moved over silence as I tried to react to what he’d just said. I knew I’d heard him wrong. “What…” I sputtered. “You get my money, you get on your knees,” he said quietly, hitching forward in his chair just a bit. “You perform on me what the Italians call an act of fellatio. A fucking blow job. And in case you’re wonderin’, I am being dead serious here.” “…Fuck you,” I mouthed, the words barely audible. “Fuck…” “No, fuck you, Tom, brother of mine, who’s never even been inside my house even though he’s married to my kid sister for nine frickin’ years. Come into my office and ask for a hundred and thirty grand to keep your name out of the papers and your ass out of the penitentiary. That’s nerve, wouldn’t you say? Huh? C’mon, answer me. Tell me how you’d feel if the situation was reversed?” “I’d…” “You’d be the one to telling me to play the flute on you.” “No. No, I wouldn’t. I…” “Well we’re a little fucking different then, I guess,” he shrugged contemptuously. “But if you want an off-the-books loan from me, then you’d better be ready to do the job. You better be ready to stand in front of me and take off all your clothes, be ready to kneel down and unbuckle my belt and unzip my…” “You go to hell!” “No, Tom, that’s where you’ll be going. I don’t know that much about the law, but I know enough to understand that you’ll be looking at serious prison time for a deal like this. In there, you’ll probably suck lots of cock. I can just picture some big ol’ cellmate knocking your teeth out on a bedrail so as your mouth’ll feel smooth as his old lady’s snatch. You’ll be a girl inside those walls, pal. You’ll be taking stitches in your asshole every other week. Carol’ll come up to visit you at those windows with the phone and she’ll see it in your eyes. She’ll know you’re somebody’s gal. That you’re getting… ” “Shut up!” I heard myself shriek, Jimmy’s figure blurred by tears as I staggered towards the door. I heard Carol’s voice echoing inside my head, the names she’d called him, the raw way she detested him. “Wait,” he barked, stopping me with my hand on the doorknob. “This bird you’re dealing with gave you till Friday to cough up on his account, right?” I nodded, feeling nauseated by the horrific picture he’d painted of prison life for me. I’d had a nightmare last night of being locked in a small prison cell, the claustrophobic stench of feces and sour sweat gagging me awake. “Well then, that gives you two full days to change your mind on my offer,” he went on judiciously. “And of course it’ll be our little secret if you do take me up on it, seeing how it ain’t exactly something I’d be bragging about down at the club. You just call my secretary and make an appointment if you decide blowing me isn’t so bad as all the possible alternatives.” _______________ I watched the buttons on the elevator panel flicking upward—one—two—three—four. It was late Thursday afternoon, almost five o’clock. I’d telephoned Jimmy’s secretary that morning, a late appointment as per some earlier instruction he’d issued. When the doors opened to the sixth floor, I had to force myself out into the quiet, deserted hallway. “I don’t believe this,” I whined under my breath. I was here for this sick, dirty fucker’s money, fully aware of what conditions he’d tagged onto it. The elevator doors closed behind me with a dull thump, my mind still racing for some other way out of this. There was none, however, none at all. “I’m so sorry,” I muttered to the empty walls, my mind flashing back to the sound of Carol sobbing next to me in bed the previous night. That sound had eaten my heart whole, made me promise to do anything to deliver us from this hellish mess I’d trapped us in. Anything! I willed myself forward, opening the door to his suite, finding the receptionist desk vacant, the lights dimmed. “Tom, how you doin’?” came his voice, a disembodied sound that made me flinch. “I…” He stepped into the room, tall and smiling, looking immaculate in his gray suit. It was a most reassuring smile. “So you want the money, I take it?” he said coming up to me with his hand extended. I nodded and numbly lifted my hand to his, something inside me hoping that he wouldn’t make me lower myself to do what he asked. That he’d been playing me with some kind of power game, some head-trip. “And you agree to the terms and conditions I imposed?” he went on, shaking my hand firmly. “I…” “It’s yes or no, Tom. I don’t want to waste any more of my time here.” “I need that money,” I almost muttered, yanking my hand free of his grip. “I’m fully aware of that. The question was do you…” “Yes, yes, yes. Yes, you f…” “Easy, Tommy. Gotta watch how you speak to your new banker.” He waved for me to follow along behind him, looking back impatiently when I didn’t immediately follow. “C’mon, lets move it.” I reluctantly fell in step behind him as he led me down a long hallway. Do what you have to, just do what you have to,” I mentally repeated over and over, as if trying to convince myself that I could do what he demanded. That it wasn’t as bad as I knew it to be. “In here,” he said, stopping to swing the door to a large conference room wide. I hesitantly stepped past him—my feet jamming in place when I saw them standing there. “You know my boys?” came Jimmy’s voice from behind me. Jimmy’s two oldest sons—Jimmy Jr. and Anthony— were seated at the far end of the long mahogany table, leaning back in their chairs with a casual, almost bored arrogance. “What is this,” I said in a barely audible voice. “Kids, you know your Uncle Tom, right? Aunt Carol’s husband?” “Jimmy what the hell is…” “This is an object lesson for my sons, Tom,” he answered smartly, moving slowly up the opposite side of the table from the two teenage brothers. “A lesson as to the raw power that money sometimes gives you over other people. A lesson that sets out…” “What in the fuck’re you talking about. Are you fucking…” “Hey, watch your language in here, okay? And what I’m talking about is how these young men are going to watch you do what I said you’re gonna do. How they’re going to watch you do it, and how they are going to learn a valuable life lesson from it. Probably the kinda lesson old man Kennedy used to teach his boys, huh?” “You’re out of your mind,” I said as I staggered back up against the door, grabbing down for the knob blindly as I panned their faces—Jimmy’s cruely intent, the two boy’s, simply awed. “Walk out that door and the offer is rescinded,” he laughed, stirring through a cluster of papers with his index finger. “The note and everything’s right here by the way, all signed and ready for your signature. And of course there is a cashiers check in the exact amount we discussed waiting in the top drawer of my desk.” “Please.” “Yes or no,” he said, looking from me back to his sons. “Yes,” I muttered after several excruciating seconds, feeling drained of everything, almost ready to be physically sick. “Well, then, what say we get started. Get your clothes off.” I stood there for another long moment, averting my gaze from them, not moving. “Hey c’mon, Tom. Lets do it today. Boys got a date in a little while, and I gotta get home to my wife sometime tonight.” I started to unfasten my belt, fumbling with it, reading the smirk on the oldest boy’s face. I turned a little as I pulled the zipper on my trousers down, tears of humiliation clouding out my vision. “Take off the jacket too,” I heard Jimmy snap. “And the shirt and the shoes and the…” “Please,” I muttered again, hating myself for begging like that. “Naked,” he snorted. “Every fucking stitch.” My hands were shaking as I peeled out of my clothes, chilled as I stood there in an overheated room. Then I was nude before them, turned to the side, my crotch partially capped beneath my clammy palms. “Good, now get over here and suck me off,” came Jimmy’s raised voice. I looked over as he took off his jacket and neatly draped it over a chair, watching as he unbuckled and slid his trousers down to the mid-point of his thighs. “Lets go.” I hesitantly came across the floor till I was in front of him, one of the boys letting out a mean chuckle as Jimmy motioned me down onto my knees. I looked down at the polished hardwood floor then knelt, my cheeks burning. “C’mon, look at it,” he went on. When I didn’t obey fast enough, he reached under my chin and forced my head up as he freed his erection from his boxers. “Tell me an’ the boys what you think?” His penis was thick around as my wrist, with an obscene upward bow to it. Other than in dirty movies, I’d never seen an erect man before. He stroked a hand down over it, trailing his grip off at the heavy testicles, which were shrunk tightly to its base. “Say my cock is nice? Nice an’ big.” “It’s…” I choked back a sob. “Nice and big! Just like you like ‘em.” Nice and bi…” My voice trailed off, as I thought with dread as to what I was being forced to do. “You ever blow a man before, Tom?” I shook my head, closing my eyes to the thoughts of how terrible this was. How it couldn’t possibly get any worse. “First time for everything,” he said, grabbing hold of my hair and bringing the swollen head of his dick to my lips, prodding it against my closed lips like battering-ram hoisted by barbarian tribesmen. “Suck.” I opened my lips, feeling the shocking warmth as it slid into my mouth, gagging as he shoved it against the back of my throat. “Ugh,” one of the kids groaned. “Forget that disgusted shit,” Jimmy bellowed. “You just watch this guy suck my cock ‘cause he got no other choice. He hates this, hates having my penis in his mouth, hates having to be my girl tonight. Right, Tom? Just fricking nod if you can’t express yourself verbally.” I was crying then, weeping, feeling my wife’s brother running his cock back and forth into my mouth in a slow rhythm. “Swirl your tongue on the underneath part …Nice …like that. And suck on it too, get some movement going on it.” I was trying not to think of what I was doing to him, but as if beaten, I obeyed his commands meekly. “See, that’s the reality of how money works,” he went on after another minute of so, pulling out of my mouth abruptly, his saliva slicked penis bobbing up and down in front of my face. “I broke him down to do exactly what I wanted, something a week or so ago, he would’ve sworn he’d never do. Money makes ‘em dance—and, on occasion, makes ‘em suck. …Me an’ you are done here, Tommy-boy.” The Object Lesson I keeled over, swiping the vile wetness from my chin, feeling a swell of relief that he’d let me out at this point. That he hadn’t insisted on coming in my mouth. I knew I’d have had to swallow the fucker if he’d said so. “Shake.” I lifted my head up from my crouch, seeing him attempting to tuck his still stiff hard-on back into his shorts, his free hand extended down for me. I swore I’d get him for this, that I’d avenge myself on him and his rotten prick sons if it took me forever. He seemed to read it in my eyes, nodding and smiling at this unspoken vendetta. I lifted my hand—he clicked on one ring of a pair of handcuffs on me before I could react. I instinctively pulled back, but he dropped a knee onto my shoulder, pinning me face down onto the floor. I was being dragged then, at least one of his sons helping to pull me across the floor. My head hit something hard, then the other ring ratcheted onto my free wrist. I felt them step away as I reared up—my arms were pinioned around the leg of the conference table, the cuffs biting into my flesh. “Get these off,” I wailed, tugging back with all my strength, but not even budging the massive, finely carved leg. “Tom, did Carol ever talk about me an’ her?” “Let me fucking go, you fucking…” “She ever tell you about what pissed her off so fucking much? Ever give you any inkling as to what could drive a brother an’ sister so far apart?” I froze there, down on my knees, completely nude. He was hunkered down only a few feet from me, tucking his shirt back into his waistline, his words soft, intimate. “You wanna hear about it?” he went on, his two sons milling nervously a few feet behind him. “Please just let me go. Fuck your money. Fuck…” “Again, I don’t appreciate your language. Men should always be able to speak to each other in a civilized fashion.” “You fucking freak—fucking animal. You let me go or so help me I’ll kill you. I kill the bunch of you. I’ll…” “Carol still looking good in the nude?” I looked up into his eyes, my mouth working over words that wouldn’t come. “Seems to me like she’s holding up well. Must be sagging a little here and there, but for thirty-four she is still fine. Nothing like nineteen though, let me tell you.” “Shut up,” I whimpered, tucking my head down between my arms. He reached out and stroked my calf, gentle as he slid his beefy hand down along my bare foot. I pulled away, cringing into a ball beneath the table. “I’ll have to tell you all about it in a little while, pal. How’s that? But you see right now I got me another meeting that I just have to attend to. …How’s this piece of junk fucking work?” I lifted my eyes, seeing that he’d stepped to the head of the room and was working the controls on a huge plasma screen television that hung on the wall. “C’mon help we with this thing,” he bellowed, the screen flickering to the business news channel. “How do I get…” “Here,” his younger son Anthony was saying, up at his side now. “Which one?” “Alice’s office.” “Okay,” Anthony said, intently working the buttons on a remote. “Reception.” The screen switched. A security camera view of the waiting area I’d just passed through, though with none of the graininess of most video monitors. I saw a woman standing there with her back to the screen, then she turned—my Carol looking distraught, biting at her fingernails, pacing like a caged animal. “No—don’t you…” “My loving sister in the flesh,” he said absently as he gave the screen an apprising look. “You bastard, you—don’t, please don’t…” “She came to see me yesterday afternoon. First time we’d spoken in almost seventeen years. I heard her out, very sad story. Very, very sad.” “Oh, please. Please not that, please…” “I made her a simple proposition, in many ways similar to the one I made you. As you might expect, she responded negatively. Said some extremely nasty things about my character.” “No…” “Tom, I’m not even listening to you to your whining, so what say you shut the heck up.” I wrenched backwards on the cuffs, straining until I could hear my shoulders popping, till I felt the cold steel cutting into my skin. “Anyway, much like with you, I spelled out the grave alternatives in explicit detail and gave her till today to change her mind. Looked like she was about ready to feint when I described you being a bitch in jail, sayin’ how it’d be lucky if you only got stabbed with a hard cock. She must’ve thought it over good, ‘cause she called back this morning, only an hour or so after you.” I thought of her sobbing in bed the night before, flashing to the look of dread that masked her beautiful face that morning when I’d left. “Put it back to the office now,” he said to Anthony, the enormous screen flicking over to a view of Jimmy’s empty office. “Please…” I begged, struggling in vain to free myself as he and his son’s walked from the office. “Make sure you watch the show, Tom,” he chuckled as he slammed the door shut behind him. _________________ I watched the screen for what seemed like minutes before the two kids came into view, followed closely by my wife and her brother. The sound was turned up deliberately loud, their footsteps a drumbeat echoing through the conference room. “Glad you thought things through, Carol,” Jimmy said evenly as he stepped behind his desk. “Please don’t do this,” my wife whispered hoarsely, her hands clasping her beige blazer tightly across her body. “It ain’t open for negotiation, Sis,” he said crisply, opening the top drawer of his desk and taking out what I recognized as the cashiers check. “Yes or no. Simple as all hell.” “Why are you doing this?” she sobbed, the quaver in her voice heartrending. “I’m doing it because I can,” he replied, sliding the check out towards her with the face up. “Now is it a yes or is it a no?” “Didn’t you do enough to me,” she screeched, her slim shoulders bunching with rage. I thought for a moment that she was going to physically attack him. “You fucking bastard. Everyone thinks you’re so good, so…” “Hey, Carol, yes or fucking no?” he barked, slamming his palm down atop the desk. “I’m not the one who put you in this situation, but I’m the only one who can get you and your stupid husband out of it.” “No,” she muttered, shaking her head plaintively. “Okay, then that’s it,” he said sharply, striding over to the door and swinging it open for her. “You an’ convict-boy have a nice life.” My wife just stood there with her back to the camera, her shoulders wracked with sobs. “C’mon, hit the road,” he went on in a nasty tone. “Back to your house so you can lie to old Tommy that jail ain’t gonna be as bad as he thinks.” Carol was still anchored into place, her small hands up over her face as she wept almost hysterically now. “Out!” “I’ll do it,” she whimpered, tilting her head back and looking to the ceiling in utter dejection. “That your way of saying yes,” Jimmy smirked, slowly closing the door once again. Carol raised and lowered her head, tiny balled-up fists grinding into the sides of her neck. “Use the word then. Say yes—as in yes, I agree.” “…Yes.” “Then start taking off you clothes, kid.” “You don’t have to do this,” she wheezed, turning her focus to the two boys. “You heard my father,” Jimmy Jr. answered coldly. “You want our money, you do like you’re told.” “They just want to know their Aunt Carol a little better is all, Sis” Jimmy clucked. “Now show ‘em what you look like unbuttoning your blouse.” Hunkered down beneath that conference room table, my hands hopelessly pinioned around the thick wooden leg, I watched helplessly as my painfully shy wife jerkily began by removing her blazer. “No, no…” I repeated aloud to the empty walls. Carol held onto the blazer for a moment, awkwardly looking around for somewhere to put it. Her face was scarlet with humiliation. “Just toss it on the fuckin’ floor,” Jimmy cut in roughly. Carol let the blazer slip from her grip—her hands climbing hesitantly to the top button of her flowered blouse. Her chin dipped as she worked it loose, moving down to the next, then the next, her hands shaking visibly as she finally began to tug the tail free of her waistband. “Off,” Jimmy Jr. chimed in as he slowly circled around to her right, his gaze, as seen on the television screen, intent as a raptor. Carol looked at him sadly, letting several more seconds elapse before she draped the blouse back over her shoulders, again holding onto the garment as if she didn’t want to let it drop to the floor. I watched Jimmy Jr. close the distance then, coming up on my wife—his aunt—who stood there shivering, naked from the waist up except for the delicate lace of her brassiere. He looked into her face as he lifted a hand to her, making her wince as he slid it up along the bare flesh of her belly. She whispered something to him that I couldn’t hear over the speakers, her eyes clamped tightly. “You know, Aunt Carol. After hearing that…” he backed off a few inches, an earnest phrasing morphing into a feral leer “…I’m gonna enjoy this all the more.” His hand came up and roughly worked the clasp at the front of her bra, a quick flick exposing her creamy, champagne-glass shaped breasts to the air. “This is so fucking hot,” he croaked, grabbing a fistful of her hair and forcing a hard kiss onto her mouth, walking her backwards till he was able to shove her down on his father’s large leather couch. His younger brother was there next to him in an instant, pulling his shirt up over his head as he knelt alongside my still struggling wife. “Sis, you make sure and pick up the check after they’re done with you,” Jimmy said, coming up close, so that he towered over the three of them. “Make sure an’ tell Tommy how I was more than willing to help you two out.” “Sick fucker,” Carol shrieked as the two boys continued to crudely grope her. “Guys, if I were you, I’d have all the fun I wanted,” he went on, ignoring her completely. “She’s bought and paid for to the tune of a hundred and twenty-five G’s. I would not—I repeat would not—be gentle.” He whistled a vaguely familiar love song as he backed out of the shot, his younger son, Anthony, taking it as some cue to start tugging my Carol’s jeans off, working himself into a near frenzy as he yanked the bunched up denim past her ankles, a white sneaker skittering along the polished hardwood. The two of them were on her hard after that, crawling atop her at once, manhandling her back against the cushions, taking turns kissing and licking her face and breasts, pulling roughly at those small, darkened nipples. I sank back, taking in the images on the screen, seeing Jimmy Jr. step clear of the melee so as to strip off his clothes, seeing Anthony forcing up Carol’s chin so as to make her watch, pushing her forward and down as his big brother stepped up to present my wife with his engorged penis. “Come on, you cunt,” he hissed into her ear, the audio system picking up each word perfectly. “Show us how good you suck a cock.” I was dizzy from the sight of it all, my usually modest wife stripped raw, these two hulking teenage boys thoroughly dominating her, her face being shoved in front of one of their thick, purplish dicks. My breathing was jagged as I took it all in, my heart galloping as Carol reluctantly parted her lips for him. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” came the voice from immediately behind me. I jerked around, seeing Jimmy standing there, looking across at the television. “See you’re liking the show,” he said as he languidly dropped himself into one of the chairs, gesturing toward my lap with a dip of his chin. I trailed my eyes down, appalled at the sight of my own taut penis. I blushed, shifting around in a vain attempt to conceal it. “Cocks don’t lie, Tom,” he said with a grin. “It’s the only truly honest part of a man. If its excited it gets hard. If it ain’t, then it ain’t. No middle ground, no room for lies.” I shifted some more, trying to block out his words. I glanced up at the television, seeing Jimmy Jr. pumping himself into Carol’s mouth as his brother held her head rigid. Again, my heart skipped, that incredible rush of warmth coursing down along the lower part of my stomach. “You fantasize about her being with another man a lot?” Jimmy asked softly. I looked away from the TV—away from him. You know me an’ her were like best buddies at one time,” he went on after a pause. “Even being so many years older and all.” “Come on, suck it hard, you fucking slut,” Anthony’s voice boomed from the speakers. “Aunt fucking slut.” “How can you do this to her?” I shouted, pivoting my head so as to glare at Jimmy. “How can you have a hard-on from it?” he shot back with a smirk, pausing to point up at the brilliant image on the screen. “Look.” I did. Anthony was now pulling down his pants—shifting Carol’s head around so that he could take his turn fucking her in the mouth. “You wanna jerk off? You got that boner sticking up there like a frickin’ flagpole or somethin’.” “Shut up,” I rasped, listening to the grunts filtering through the air, the strangled noises as my wife gagged on her nephew’s rod. I couldn’t believe what was happening. “Anyways, getting back to me an’ her. We were like I said best pals. My kid sister. You know, me looking out for her, all that stuff. Then she starts getting older—teenage shit, you know, getting sexy an all.” “I don’t want to hear this,” I said through gritted teeth. “Well you don’t wanna see her tag-teamed up either, but you got a big boner none the less. Maybe this story’ll crank you up some more.” “Wait, he said you’d…” Carol’s panicked voice coming off the speakers brought my gaze back to her—they had her pinned back onto the couch again, Jimmy Jr. prying apart her tanned legs. “What’d he say? Say that we’d use a rubber on you?” Anthony mocked, Carol shying away from the older brother frantically as he edged himself up between her thighs, tauntingly swirling circles through her pubic hair with the tip of his cock. “Well fuck that business. We’re both coming in you, whether you like it or fucking not.” “No…” Anthony clamped a hand across her mouth as his brother penetrated her with one brutal stoke, meeting her eyes for a moment before he started to thrust himself into her. Carol’s muffled pleas gradually died away as he crushed her beneath the full weight of his body. “We don’t need the sound,” Jimmy spoke up, going over to the set and hitting the mute button. He turned and looked down at me, my erection still hanging there even after I’d seen his son thrust his cock into my wife’s vagina, mating with her—even his lack of a condom, and Carol’s being off the Pill didn’t dampen things, my penis so pumped with blood that it was shiny. “Now about me and Carol,” he went on, undoing his tie as he walked back, taking his suit jacket off and laying it on the table. “As she got older, I was, you know, starting to get real heated up for her, loving her like a sister in every way except for one if you understand what I’m saying.” “Sick…” “Yep, that’s what I thought too,” Jimmy sighed. He was unbuttoning his dress shirt, pulling it off, continuing to talk as he pulled his tee shirt up over his head and kicked off his gleaming shoes. “Hated that feeling, the way my prick would be up there saluting when she’d be leaning over, or out in the yard in her frickin’ little bikini.” I felt a twisted compulsion to look up at the TV again—they’d flipped Carol off the couch and onto all fours, with Jimmy Jr. fucking her from behind, while Anthony once more brutishly humped away at her mouth. I could see the delicate outline of her rib cage, the sway of her breasts as they hung beneath her. “This—these feeling went on for years,” he said ruefully. “Then I was outta the house and married and Carol was out in Pittsburgh in college. It was cool, everything on the up an’ up. Then I went out there on a business deal, me and these two political fucks working on a garbage-hauling bid. —One night we invite Carol to come to dinner with us.” I turned from the screen to look at him as he said this. He had his trousers unbuckled and was sliding them and his boxers down in one motion, stepping out of them so as to stand before me stark naked. He was fully aroused, the memory of having to suck him slamming back through my skull. “So we take her to dinner at this fancy Italian joint up in Shadyside. She’s all dressed up in a black dress, looking hot as hell. She used to dress lots hotter then, even though she was pretty much a priss who believed in all that save yourself for marriage crap.” He came over to me, getting down on his knees and edging up behind me. I cringed away, felt his hands on me, his hairy body pulling against mine. “Easy,” he said. His hands were groping down the front of my body—on my cock, gentle as his palm encircled it. “Don’t fight it,” he whispered, a feathered stoke down the length of my penis, the caress to my balls so soft that I almost came right then. “Do you want to hear what happened that night?” My head seemed to bob of its own accord. I looked up and saw Jimmy Jr. swing my wife back over the sofa cushions, her face buried into the deep folds of leather as he viciously worked himself to orgasm, his back muscles stiffening as he ejaculated inside her, the cords of his neck taut as he groaned and grunted. I watched even as he pulled out of her, leaning over to catch his breath. “We’re out at this restaurant, and she gets up to go to the ladies room. This one guy we’re out with turns to me and asks if I ever fuck her. Bang, just like that. Now any other time I’d rip his tongue out for saying something like that about my kid sister. But not this night, this night I’m in a mood. “I shake my head ‘no’ and get ready to leave it at that. Then the other one—they must’ve read something in how I was lookin’ at her—he asks if I’d like to have her party with us. Just as I’m saying that she isn’t like that, he holds up this little vial thingy. Just holds it up and smiles. …Hey.” Jimmy stops to point up at the screen, his son Anthony’s wrestling Carol all the way up onto the couch, cramming her calves atop his shoulders so as to bend her legs beneath him while he mounts her. I can see that my wife’s eyes are glassy, that she seems almost in shock. There are little puddles of glistening semen on the floor that have dripped from within her. “When she came back, I didn’t say a thing. I just looked at her, knowing how much I wanted to fuck her, to own her, to turn her out. One of the guys said we should maybe stop off for a drink on the way back to her dorm, and she… “I spiked her Pepsi with that shit, and didn’t think twice. It wasn’t like that date-rape shit the kids use today, with the poor girl so fucking unconscious that it must be like fucking a corpse. This stuff that guy gave me just messed her up, lowered her resistance, made her easy to handle. We got her back to the one guys house and we—you had to see her when we started in on her, she was so loose that she was letting them dance with her, not even putting up any argument when we started to strip her down.” He was pumping my cock steadily now, my breathing ragged, my heart driving through my chest. I was looking up at the screen—Anthony crushing Carol’s legs back across the length of her torso, his cock clearly visible as he rode it into her vagina. “The three of us got her on this king-sized bed, that body of hers, the tits. She was looking at me with those big eyes when I got on her, out of it, but still aware that I was the one using her, that it wasn’t any fucking dream or nothin’. We fucked her good that night, I mean you name it, and we did it. Her ass, her frickin’ mouth. She…” The Object Lesson I stiffened, my breath stalled in my throat. I was on the edge of coming, my eyes instinctively clamping shut, Jimmy’s hand picking up the pace, throttling down on me as I started to spurt, semen splattering out beneath me. Then I was crashing, hiding my face, crushed under the weight of what I’d just done. I felt Jimmy stroke the center of my back in an understanding way. “Don’t fight it,” he said softly. “Why’d I do it,” I wept. “Because you wanted it,” he said. “And Carol’ll never know about it, not like with me. She woke up that next morning with those two guys crashed out alongside her—I’d left after a while, sick of myself. She musta been dripping sperm, her ass sore, her mouth—she was a virgin when we got her. Bled an’ all. Of course she freaked when she got her bearings, screamed that they’d given her something. Then one of them shows her a Polaroid of me, her brother, with my cock balls-deep in her mouth. It sort of cooled our relationship as you can guess.” He reached down and lifted my head, looking at me. “I don’t regret it though. I loved fucking her, being the first man to mate her. And you, you’re not going to regret having seen her fucked like this. Your penis don’t lie, and neither does mine.” “I didn’t want this…” “Yes, you did. Somewhere deep inside you wanted it. You wanted her to prove herself to you—that she’d go the distance for you. Look at them using her, using her like a fucking whore. She hates it, hates the fact that they can use her holes, that they can put their sperm into her—I’d laugh if they knocked her up on you.” “Don’t say that,” I blurted angrily. “Impregnated.” “Stop.” “Look at the screen,” he answered. I hesitantly looked back—somehow Anthony’d orgasmed and his brother was back on Carol again, face to face on the floor, her hips pinned in place so as to receive the full impact of his thrusts. “My wife would have let me go to prison for a hundred fucking years before she’d do that,” he grunted. “I hope you appreciate that fact.” “I didn’t want this,” I mouthed. “Come back here,” he said, dragging me backwards from the table, stretching my still manacled arms outward. I tried to pull away, but couldn’t, feeling the stickiness of where I’d shot. “One more thing for me.” I heard the squishing sound, trying to look around to see what it was. Up on the screen I saw Jimmy Jr. pull clear of my wife and flip her over onto her stomach. He was looking up in the direction of the hidden camera as he separated her butt cheeks, positioning himself over the tight pucker of her anus. She reared up as he entered her, her scream of pain evident even with the muted sound, her entire body constricting as he savagely sodomized her. Then I felt the hands separating my cheeks, the thumbs pulling them wide, the bullet head of Jimmy’s penis on my ass. “No,” I said, then I saw stars, my vision blackening as he thrust his way into me, my sphincter in spasm. “Take it out, take it out…” “Take it, you pussy. Take it like your wife is taking it.” He was fucking me hard and fast, the pain beyond anything I’d ever imagined. I was crying, pleading, begging for him to stop. “There’s a video disc of Carol getting fucked,” he cooed breathlessly in my ear, the blinding pain finally subsiding. I was without control. I was at his mercy, helpless. My wife was helplessly getting gang-fucked down the hallway. “I’ll watch it when I want. I could’ve fucked her too, but I wanted you. I wanted you.” “Fuck me,” I breathed, my cock growing hard as it ground beneath me…beneath his shunting thrusts. “And I’ll let you watch the tape whenever you want. Just so you blow me or let me have your ass,” he wheezed, picking up the pace, the spurt of his sperm inside me saying that I was owned, that he did in fact own me. _____________ Late that night, laying in bed beside my wife, touching her hair, my anus still afire from the way her brother’d torn me, I thought back to how she’d had the check waiting. The story she told of asking him for it—the reconciliation, the way he’d offered his help. She hugged me, held me so tightly. It was all changed though. I thought of her nephew’s seed possibly springing to life within her. Of how they’d used her, how they’d manhandled her around on that sofa—how they’d taken her in the ass. I knew I loved her, but I wasn’t sorry that it had happened. I knew I’d go back to see the tape. That I’d let Jimmy have me whenever he wanted. That I’d let him have my wife if I could. All changed… The end…for now. I’d love to know if you enjoyed this story. It’s my first piece of erotic fiction. Hope to hear from you. Bob The Object of Forbidden Desire This is my first story. I hope you like it. If there is interest, I'll write more parts to this story. Positive feedback is welcome. She couldn't help herself. Her eyes were fixed on him, just as on that first morning. His smooth tanned skin covering the steely muscles beneath. No, it wasn't the same that first day. It was different. She moved away and sat on a chair. She brushed her forehead with her hand, trying to think about the first time she set eyes on him. She'd been expecting him because he'd rung the day before. But, when he'd rung the bell, she'd been washing the dishes from lunch. He'd arrived early. A little flustered at being taken out of her routine, she went to the door whilst trying to take off her apron. But the knot wouldn't undo and she was fiddling with the string when she opened the door. "Good afternoon," said a nervous voice. "I'm Mark Pryce. We spoke on the phone." Phyllis didn't look up, and after a pause, "It is Mrs. Roberts, isn't it?" "Yes, that's right. Good afternoon," she responded still playing with knot. When she looked up her hands fell away from the tied string and she became hypnotised by the Adonis in front of her. The gentle voice belied the statuesque figure that stood in the doorway. His dark hair was cut short and brushed backwards. His eyes were a pale blue and sparkled. His skin was lightly tanned, the exact same colour that came to mind that they always mention of the Italians or Greeks: olive, yes that was it. His teeth flashed white in a nervous smile, framed by thick luscious red lips. Her hands rushed to her hair to check that it was still in place and decent enough to receive such a good looking man. She laughed to herself, her cheeks flushed: what was she doing? She recovered from her stupor, "Yes, that's right. Please, come in," moving aside to let the stranger pass her gaze remained transfixed on him. He was a good six inches taller than her, she estimated. At five foot five inches, she wasn't exactly small but he must have been a little over six foot. He wore a very nice dark suit. And, as he passed, his heady cologne seemed to fill the room. It was a little too sweet for her liking, but pleasant all the same. She indicated for him to take a seat. "Would you like some tea?" she asked, "then we can make a start on the formalities." The young man agreed. She collected her thoughts in the kitchen. 'Wow!' She thought. 'I've not felt like that for a long time.' The truth was, he reminded her a lot, of her late husband. Not that they were identical twins or anything, it was just that he, too, had been tall and dark with an air of powerful sexuality. She went back into the living room, tray in hand. "I've brought some biscuits. Do you like digestives?" "Very much so, thank you," said the visitor. "Good. Do you want milk?" Again she received a soft affirmative. She'd already begun pouring before she'd heard the reply. All this nonsense about lemon in tea: she'd never met anyone who took it. She handed him the cup and saucer. "Please help yourself to sugar." "That's okay, I never take sugar." He said sitting back adjusting his jacket and straightening his tie. She sat back and studied him. Her body tingled just looking at him. "Erm... perhaps you'd feel more comfortable if you took off your jacket. The warm weather has arrived early and I'm afraid the heating won't go off for a few more weeks yet." Then explained quickly, "I'm afraid I don't know how to work the heater. It was set by the technician and I haven't touched it since." He smiled and leant forward and put his cup down. She noticed that he had been going to put it on the coffee table itself that separated them before hesitating and putting it down on the tray. A nice show of manners, she thought. As he stood up to take off his jacket, she sat back to get a better view. She couldn't believe she was eyeing him up, but she couldn't stop herself. She could see he was well built. He had one of those bodies made from doing a lot of exercise: broad shoulders (the jacket wasn't padded), his biceps bulged slightly under the shirt which was tucked into his trousers over slim hips. His "packet" appeared to be a slight bulge under the trousers. But, they were quite loose so she couldn't be sure if he had 'a big one' or not. As he came to sit down again, she could make out the shape of his chest under the shirt: large hard square muscles. She was sure she could just make out a large dark nipple on his right chest, the other being covered by the breast pocket. "So," she began, lifting her eyes to his, and trying to concentrate. "It's Mark, isn't it?" "That's right." He flashed a smile back. "Tell me something about yourself. Where are you from?" "Well, I'm from the other side of the country, and I've just been offered a job here. So, I'm looking for a place to live." "Where will you be working?" "In the local council; I got the job after graduating from university." "You're a long way from home, haven't you got any relatives in this part of the country?" "None, I'm afraid. My parents are all I've got. I'm an only child." "What about friends? Didn't any of your classmates come from here? His nervous smile slipped as he was trying to read the situation. Was she rejecting him as a tenant? Seeing his doubts she quickly, tried to allay his fears, "It's not that I don't want you here. I advertised for a lodger because I like having someone else around the house. Heaven knows in this day and age, it isn't safe for anyone anymore. But I want to be sure, and more importantly, I want you to be sure, that you want to live here. It's quite isolated; it's more than half an hour's walk to the nearest village and it can get quite lonely sometimes. So, I want you to have it clear in your mind that you can stay here, particularly as my rules are quite strict. I don't want to have to be looking for a new lodger every few months." "I don't think I'll have any problems." He said plainly. His smile didn't return. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She didn't want to scare him away. He seemed a nice young man. And no one else had replied to the advert in the paper. "Perhaps, if we talk about the conditions," he added, "then we'll see if we fit together." "Very good," she replied feeling better about the situation. "Let me show you round while we talk about it." She set her cup and saucer down and stood up. Mark followed suit. He left his jacket on the sofa and walked behind her. "Just a moment" she said, "I'll get the keys and we'll do this properly." They moved to the front door, "The flat is virtually independent," she began as she moved outside, "There is a connecting door inside, but I haven't used it in years and I'd have to find the key. Anyway you'll really only be going to and from the flat from outside; so you won't have to come through the house." They walked round to the garage, and climbed some steps that led to a granny flat. The door opened into the kitchen. It was small and rustic. She spoke about the conditions whilst she showed him around. No loud noises; no parties; he could have people over though, as long as they stayed in his part of the house. There was a pool in the back garden, which he could use, if he so wished. The flat was furnished but if he wanted to bring his own furniture then he should tell her and they would sort out moving her furniture into storage. The rent had to be paid into her bank account because she didn't want to have a lot of money in the house. Breakages had to be paid for, etc. etc. Mark had been brought up an only child and his parents had been quite strict. His rebellious nature had had its outlet when he was fifteen and now he'd settled down to a quiet life. The rules seemed quite exaggerated, but he was running against the clock. All he wanted to do was to move in somewhere and get settled in the area. In a year or two, when he could afford to, he'd buy his own place and move away anyway. His thoughts were brought back to the present by the question, "When were you thinking of moving in?" "Sorry," he smiled again, which made her heart flutter, "I was just trying to think of some more questions. I thought this weekend, if that would be okay." "Yes, that'd be fine." She paused, "Do you have a lot of belongings?" "Not that much. About two suitcases of clothes, some books, my weights... I like to keep in shape. Oh and my computer. Does the flat have a telephone connection?" "I'm afraid not. But I have one if you need to make phone calls." "It's for internet." He replied. She kicked herself. She'd just proved to him that she was an old fuddy-duddy. "Well, you could have a line put in, I suppose. But you'd have to pay for that and it would be your responsibility." "No, problem: I'll do it in a few weeks, once I'm settled in." "Well, then, I suppose I'll have the rent agreement drawn up and you can sign it on Saturday." With that, they shook hands. His large strong hand and firm grasp made her tummy tingle. She stared down at her hand in his for a while; for too long. After some moments he pulled his hands away and laughed nervously. "Oh, I'm so sorry" she said blushing, "it's just that you've got such marvellous hands. I mean, it surprised me how strong they were." She realised she was babbling and tried to brush off the incident. "It's just old woman talk." She laughed. They went back to her living room to finish their tea. They chatted a little about this and that and at the end she was convinced he'd make a good tenant: polite, quiet, strong and charming. When it came time for him to leave she thanked him for coming and showed him out. Once he'd gone she tried to get back to her chores, but snippets of his conversation played in her head. Over the following days, she found she couldn't get him out of her mind. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face; his hands; his eyes. Her stomach was aflutter with butterflies. What was happening to her? She couldn't believe she was acting like a schoolgirl. Even her friends noticed. On their weekly get together they'd spend the day in town and the evening at one of their houses, chatting, playing cards, watching films etc. They jokingly called themselves "The Old Woman's Club" because they were all just past fifty, and, with the exception of one, they were either widowed or divorced. It was the married friend, Sandra, who noticed first. She commented on how Phyllis seemed to have bloomed. Phyllis laughed it off as a new batch of HRT the doctor had given her, but inside she was quite worried that her feelings were rising to the surface. She was especially worried as she herself was having problems making sense of them. Mark appeared on the Saturday morning with a small rented van, packed with his things. Packed wasn't, perhaps, the right word. He had a bicycle and a small box of books, a briefcase with his laptop in it, his clothes and a box of what he called 'free weights'. He knocked on the door to get the key, but Phyllis was already there. She'd heard the sound of the engine as it pulled up. "My, you do travel light," she joked. "I need at least three times as much when I go anywhere." "I'm sure you don't. You look like a low maintenance type of gal to me." He quipped back."Would you like me to help you with your things?" She asked. "No, it's okay. I'll manage. There isn't much stuff to shift, as you've already said." "I won't press," She said laughing, "I don't want to be one of those 'in your face' landlords who's always running in and out. And actually I'm quite relieved you said no. I don't think I'd be strong enough to lift any of it." They both laughed and Mark moved off to put his things in his new place and Phyllis went back to doing her chores. The next morning she was awoken by a splashing sound. She wasn't sure what was going on until she realised it was someone in the pool. She got up to the window and tweaked back the curtains. She'd forgotten all about her new tenant; he'd been so quiet the night before she wasn't sure if he'd actually stayed or gone back to his old lodgings for more things. She looked down just in time to see him dive under the water. His long muscular body shimmered below the surface of the pool as he slipped along the bottom. When he came up for air at the other end, she saw he had a bathing cap on with goggles. "Quite the professional," she said to herself. He hoisted himself up slowly. The water ran down his sinewy back. As his waist rose out of the water she almost fainted on seeing his taut cheeks, squeezed tighter by the swimming trunks that they now called 'speedos' or something. God! He was handsome. He stood up and turned round. The water glistened off every muscle and every muscle stood out like some Greek statue. He wiped the water from his torso with his hands as he contemplated diving back in. His body tensed as he dove down through the water with perfect form. She moved away from the window. Should she invite him for breakfast: like a good will gesture for his first morning? But she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and her world fell apart. She was old: not doddery, but certainly past middle age. Why would he possibly want to sit and chat with her? But why was she so upset by it? Then it dawned on her: She was infatuated! She fancied him! How could she be so stupid? She sat down and gently sobbed. It had been some four years since her husband had died and in all that time she'd never even thought of another man. Now, with this young man, this Grecian god she hadn't even thought about her husband in days. She was unable to contain herself and she wept openly. After a while she managed to gather herself together and get dressed. She decided that it would be a good idea to go and see her husband's grave. When she came out the house about an hour later, she saw that Mark was now round the front also ready to go out. He was fastening a helmet to his head. He smiled and turned to face Phyllis. He was wearing cycling gear. Her cheeks glowed with self-indignation as she realised that she was staring at his cycling shorts. Did everything he wore have to be so tight? Unlike before, from her window, from here she could plainly see the bulge of his crotch. His cock leaned to one side, as if struggling to find an escape from its prison. It was thick and long. Even from this distance she could see that he was circumcised. Her mind raced and she became giddy and leant against the door frame. Somewhat perturbed at seeing her swoon, he moved towards her. His cock bulged against the material with every left step. "I'm... I'm alright." She said waving him away. "I'm going to see my husband. It always makes me a bit emotional." He didn't notice her warning and carried on moving towards her, "Would you like me to come with you?" he asked concerned. "No, no. I'll be fine. Please... you go on with your day. I just need a few minutes to rest." But he was already at her side. One hand closed round her arm and she felt his iron like strength as his other braced her back. "I... I... err... I think I'll go back inside and sit for a minute." She mustered. Mark helped her inside and sat her down on the sofa. He walked into the kitchen to fetch her some water. Her eyes were transfixed on his form. The more she looked at him the worse she felt, but she couldn't take her eyes off him. Those long powerful legs, his tight backside and slim waist, which spread out to those broad shoulders and thick arms. She realised that she was sexually aroused. As he came back with a glass in his hand her eyes burnt into his crotch. She didn't know how, but she managed to pull her head down and mop her eyes with a hankie. "Oh, thank you, thank you." She replied and accepted the water. "You can go now honestly. I'll just take a few minutes to collect myself." "Are you sure?" he asked worriedly. "Perfectly: Now you go along and carry on with your outing. I'll be fine." She insisted. "Well," he hesitated, "I'll check in on you when I get back. I don't want us to be living on top of each other and not know if the other needs help." The words 'on top of each other' jolted through her and she almost chocked. "Go, go." She chided. Mark went and she was left alone. The tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach didn't leave her. She sat for a few minutes, thinking. When she'd calmed down sufficiently, she stood up and went upstairs to her room. She stood in front of the wardrobe mirror and looked at herself again. She took off her hat and placed it on the bed behind her. She wore her hair short, as did most ladies of her age, because it was easier to manage and it had lost its strength since the menopause had begun. The once black hair had faded to a dark grey and soon it would be white. Suddenly, she wanted to see herself. Her clothes frustrated her. She took off her jacket and let it drop to the floor. She pulled her blouse out of her skirt and began unbuttoning it. Half way down, annoyed with the buttons, she pulled it over her head. She kicked off her shoes at the same time and then undid her skirt. She stood in her bra and pants looking at herself in the mirror. She took a good look. Despite what she had thought earlier that morning, she wasn't in too bad a shape. Her stomach hadn't resisted time too well, though. She'd developed quite a paunch; she'd have to go on a diet. She took off her bra and examined her breasts. They'd sagged a bit but they were still full and firm. Her thumb brushed over her nipple. She'd always liked it when her husband touched her there. Sometimes he'd suckle her nipples when they were making love. Thoughts of him flooded her mind and she sat down on the bed, taking of her knickers. She lay back and began touching herself: her fingers gently running up and down the opening of her slit. She parted her legs more and began pushing her fingers little by little inside her and rubbing her swollen clitoris. She was already wet from seeing Mark in his tight shorts. Images flashed through her mind: memories at first of her late husband the way he'd touched her, the way they'd made love: and then, thoughts of Mark. Oh, Mark; those hard muscles and that large cock. Oh, the thought of it. She saw it again in her minds eye, wagging with every stride he made in those skin-tight shorts. What would it be like inside her; pushing deep inside her, dominating her? She could feel it, long and thick splitting her in two. Her breathing became more rapid and her body shook in orgasm. She withdrew her fingers and crawled up the bed till her head reached the pillow. She was awoken by the bell. She'd fallen asleep. She grabbed her bathrobe and rushed to the landing window which overlooked the door. "Just a minute, please. I'll be right down." She called through the window. When she reached the door and opened it, there was her perdition: Mark. Breathing heavily, he took off his top to reveal his glistening torso. Unable to say anything, Phyllis was immediately grabbed and pressed against his sweaty body. His hands slipped under her robe and he lowered her to the floor. He kissed her breasts before lying on top of her and wrapping his lips around hers. His large cock, found its way into her and he called out, "Phyllis, oh Phyllis! I love you. I can't help myself!" whilst plunging into her. With every thrust he called out, "Phyllis, Phyllis!" All she managed to do was gasp as she was shaken again by orgasm after orgasm. The sound of the door bell going woke her up. She wasn't sure where she was. She rubbed her eyes and sat up. The bell sounded again and she heard Mark's voice calling her name. Quickly she picked up her robe and ran down stairs. She opened the door and there he was; Mark. Breathing heavily he took off his top to reveal his sweating torso, "Oh, I'm glad you're okay. For a moment there, I thought something had happened." He sighed heavily and wiped his chest with the shirt. Phyllis was unable to speak. Was she still dreaming?