Change Partners is a story concerning paraphilia, the practice of forms of sexual activity which are unacceptable by organized society and which typify the individual who achieves sexual satisfaction through means other than those set down by his civilization. Paraphilia takes in a broad range of deviant practices; it encompasses pederasty, voyeurism, cunnilingus, fellatio, analingus, masturbation, and other erotic practices which preclude the procreative biological function of man. Interrelated within this framework, throughout the book, is a graphic display of sadism and masochism, as well as a study of exhibitionism and group sex.
The story revolves about two couples living in London, who enter into a sexual liaison whereby each individual takes the opposite mate and embarks on an erotic holiday, as it were, for a limited period of time. The initial two, Connie and John, who live together in common law, are a most curious pair; he is a voyeur and a bit of satyr (and for that matter, who isn't?), while she is a confirmed masturbator and general paraphiliac. They live among the upper middle class and have excellent contacts, one of which is a wealthy twosome, Clem and June, who enjoy the life of the idle rich and browse about for diversified entertainment; in this case their hobby comes to be Connie and John. The entire recital is an exaggerated romp in ribaldry; however, for those who are searching for psychological data concerning the sex deviate, this is an excellent study.
The author presents as his prime exhibit in the art of narcissism, the youthful and lovely Connie, who, while possessing the proper shape outwardly, is grotesquely malproportioned otherwise. Connie presents the perfect picture of the self-possessed masturbator, although to give verve and spirit to the story she is at the same time shown to be driven by forces of exhibitionism; these two personality traits create some hazardous and unlikely scenes in the book.
Autosexuality, or self-love, which expesses itself in masturbation, is perhaps the most tragic form of libido in existence, for within its lonely boundaries there is none to share the joys of erotic love. The autosexual is his own partner in the sex act, and after the climax of masturbation, feels even more lonely, more guilty, and less able to cope with his world. Still he continues his role in life and maintains his solitary place in his inner world of "I" and "Me," for it is impossible for him to have feelings of eroticism for another so long as he is in love with himself.
The true autosexual is the person who has been denied by circumstances the flow of sexual energy into normal or even other abnormal channels. Many times he ejaculates without feeling any significant pleasure, for these people who cannot love are those whose psychosexual development has not reached the stage of genital primacy. For example, the infant loves himself with supreme egotism and lives completely in the present, with emphasis on isolation, in which each bodily function brings a gratification identified with the sexual nature. Later, this self-love is replaced by love for others, and his sexual desires are directed toward those from whom he receives pleasure and gratification. There are some individuals with such great self-love that they have difficulty in sharing even time and effort, with others and have no energy to direct toward others in sexual relationships. The neurotic-psychotic fits this pattern: his sexual functioning is blocked by his concern with his own aches and pains, or by bizarre ideas concerning the outside world. Certain artistic temperaments fall into this group also, as do those who are so preoccupied with their work or a hobby that they have no interest for sexual functioning. Kinsey has said that humanity is fifty per cent heterosexual, thirty per cent homosexual, and twenty per cent autosexual.
The invert finds sexual pleasure in masturbation, during which he can relate erotically to any person or thing he desires. Masturbation in itself is a form of sexual release which may be used by anyone with no harmful effects but when this form of gratification is used to the exclusion of normal means, it becomes a threat. Many alcoholics fall into the self-love pattern. Unable to find enough emotional satisfactions to gratify themselves, they resort to alcohol or drugs to dull the pain of reality, and live in a world of fantasy. Most alcoholics have a longing for affection which they are unable to gratify. Often they live a solitary existence because of a social anxiety complex, and find security and happiness only in overindulgence in alcohol. At these times, their self-esteem is raised considerably and they are able to be on friendly terms with others about them, particularly those of their own sex. Since they generally can love no one but themselves, they derive little real satisfaction from heterosexual relationships. In looking about me, I find society fitting more and more into this pattern of anti-social behavior. Man is tense and preoccupied, and unable to relate to his fellow man; yet, given a few alcoholic drinks, he immediately regains the charm and ease of manner which he has been lacking. I believe it has become an absolute necessity to restore our civilization to the point where it's inhabitants are able to maintain some level of dignity and self-confidence.
In our story, John, Connie's erstwhile mate, is represented as a first-class voyeur, as well as possessing a number of other outstanding paraphiliac traits. They are many types of voyeurs: those who derive pleasure from seeing without being seen, as the Peeping Tom; those who obtain great satisfaction from watching openly, as the onlookers in a burlesque show; and those who engage in heterosexual sex in front of giant mirrors, or enjoy coitus in the same room with other couples who are also copulating, so as to stimulate the senses through sight. There is also a type of voyeur who receives sexual stimulation by looking at nudist magazines, risque pictures and comic books, etc. With the trend of the times in clothes, television plays and commercials and motion pictures, it would be my guess that there is a bit of the voyeur in each of us. We must remember that there are degrees of tolerance and intolerance in any known activity. Also, it must be understood that voyeurism and exhibitionism are outgrowths of autoeroticism. Quite often, too, it is the most unattainable which is most desirable to the voyeur. My favorite story in this regard concerns the time I accompanied a friend to an art class, complete with nude female models. The students were all male, and were engrossed in the task of sketching until I noticed that their gazes had been drawn to a window in the building adjoining ours. Closer observation revealed that the window on which all eyes were fastened looked in on a lady's bedroom in which the occupant was removing her undergarments. Although this sight was barely discernible, while in front of the men were several stark-naked girls, the students were straining to catch a glimpse of the forbidden fruit which lay next door.
John's voyeurism is fortified by tendencies toward sadism which are brought out by the wife of his friend. Hesitant at first to venture into this realm of sexual endeavor, he warms to the excitement this form of eroticism brings, once he has taken the whip to his partner's flesh. As is so often the case, John at first bordered on a masochistic temperament, which then evolved into a sadistic personality. Sadism as often upends into some type of masochism because of an individual's intense feelings of guilt. These two deviations are termed sadomasochism, to indicate a form of eroticism in which the infliction or suffering of pain brings about sexual excitation and/or satisfaction. As an example; as you read the accounts of the erotic beatings given to June by her lover, you will identify with either the whipper or the whipped. If you should picture yourself as the one delivering the blows, it still may be that subconsciously you imagine yourself the recipient of the whipping. It is a curious thing, this masochistic-sadistic trend; it is as love and hate, two sides of a coin and just as quickly reversed.
Group sex and wife-swapping have been established since the onset of our most primitive cultures, although as Westermarck pointed out, sexual hospitality among what he called "the lower races" can be viewed as a variation of our modern concept of hospitality in general. In these sexually hospitable societies, only honorable male groups, specially selected, were allowed sexual freedom with various females and never was this courtesy extended to all males. This idea was no doubt the forerunner of our sex clubs in which certain selected couples exchange mates as desired. It was Schnopenhauer who proposed the arrangement called TETRAGAMY, in which two young men marry one young woman and when she has withered, they discard her and marry another young woman, so that the men always have half a young wife each, the young woman always has two husbands, and the two males have each other as friends. According to Schopenhauer, this is physiologically more natural than monogamy. This idea differs from the more usual proposal whereby one male is shared by a number of women. In old Arabia, a husband was known to send his wife to a friend with good physical attributes, so that she might conceive a healthy child. As late as the nineteenth century, Burckhardt, the Arabian explorer, found that the custom still existed whereby a stranger was required to pass the night with his host's wife, and should the lady find him disagreeable, the lower part of his cloak was cut off and he was driven away in disgrace-a custom which paid tribute to the lady's choice. In ancient India it was customary for an honored guest to be allowed the bed of his host's wife. Ancient Britain practiced a communal marriage whereby brothers, fathers and sons shared a group of wives.
In a number of societies, an important factor in the martial rites was the defloration of the bride by a priest or other important male in the community. In the eighteenth century the Abbe Dubois speaks of temples where barren women went to be impregnated by the Gods-the priests, of course, acting in the guise of the Gods.
It is believed by some sociologists that freedom from sexual restraint on specified occasions would release man's tensions and enable him to be invigorated for his routine sex life. This may or may not be true, but as our society now stands, it remains necessary for many a man to walk along two parallels-the line of conformity and the one of non-conformity. He is forever falling to the one level and crawling again up to the other.
In our story, we find four sexually liberal individuals bent on exploration of the libido; four libertines of an unrestrained and promiscuous nature whose erotomania is virtually unparalleled. The author has outdone himself in presenting the broad scope of sexual deviation; there is little in the way of perversion that is not included in Change Partners. Perhaps, occasionally, it is well to tear off the outer shell of social acceptability and lay bare the corrupt inner layers of man's nature. And perhaps sexual deviation does not represent the worst side of humanity. It was William Makepeace Thackeray who wrote in the Nineteenth Century: "Who loves not wine, women and song, He is a fool his whole life long." -Leonard A. Lowag, PhD.
* * *
CHAPTER ONE
Is this how you want me to do it?"
Connie stood up and slowly began sliding her feet apart, her high heels rasping on the marble floor-"is that right?"
Her calf muscles swelled with the effort of trying to keep them on the ground, and a tendon in the soft upper part of her foot jumped with the strain. Light from the lamp placed on the floor at her feet heightened the metallic sheen of her black stockings, and a few stray hairs trapped in the fine nylon mesh shone brightly in the glow. The black satin skirt she was wearing began to ride up. Stretching as her knees moved further apart, the material tightening into taut horizontal folds across her thighs.
Not wanting to spoil the moment by talking, he slid himself forward until he was between her legs, ignoring the cold marble on his naked back.
"Is that right?" she asked again, smiling down at him. "You look funny lying down there-aren't you cold?" She bit her lip and shivered slightly. "This skirt's so tight and I'm beginning to feel sexy."
Relaxed now, he watched the skirt slowly-rise above him knowing he wouldn't have to answer, content to let her ramble on.
"Yes, I can feel it growing in me," she said excitedly, "I feel I want to press against something."
Her breasts obscured her face, and her voice seemed to float almost lazily down to him on the floor. There was an edge to it, the familiar excited tone becoming more noticeable, as she became more aroused.
"I can't get them any further apart than that, the skirt's too tight." He heard her catch her breath sharply. "I must press against something."
There was a slight furry sound as she lowered her hand and pressed it firmly against her lower belly. The fingers dipped, lightly cupping the broad mount of Venus that pushed out the satin skirt.
"That's the trouble with having one as large as mine," she said slowly. "You always want to press... press against something." Her fingers spread, the middle one searching. "Don't do that!" His voice sounded harsh and be had to consciously soften it. "Not yet, anyway. In a minute you can, but not yet."
Her fingers straightened reluctantly, and she relaxed and lowered her arms to her side.
"It's so big," she said, looking down at it. "It always wants something pressing against it."
She began pulling the skirt up, inch by inch, her thoughts running away with her as she became more aroused.
"That girl last year in the changing huts at the baths, she put her hand on it and pressed. I nearly came with surprise when I felt her hand there. Her eyes had a sort of glazed look in them and she kept saying, 'it's too big' over and over again. Mind you, my costume did rather show it up."
She looked down at him, "Can you see my suspenders yet, John?"
It was above her well-rounded knees now, almost level with the first patterned ring of the stocking top. Sliding himself forward a little more until he was directly beneath her, he could see her thighs large above him, see the white flesh above her stockings and the indistinct outline of her briefs.
"I pulled them as tight as they would go for you."
Restraining himself from touching the silky thighs above him, he lay in a tense ecstasy, soaking in the sensation, and listening intently to her excited reminiscences.
"She stood behind me and put her arms through mine, telling me to look at myself in the mirror opposite. Her hand was pressing against me there, and she was tight and warm behind me. It didn't occur to me to stop her. I just stood and watched myself being handled."
Craning his neck, he was able to see her full length reflection in the mirror behind him. She was leaning slightly forward, watching herself intently in the mirror, as fold by fold she continued to raise the satin skirt. Her startling large breasts were half exposed in the silk blouse she wore, swaying with every movement. The white of her thighs showed more clearly at a distance above him, and when her stockinged calves touched his shoulder, he twitched, surprised at their brittle smoothness.
"-And my breasts, she was touching my breasts. She took the bra off and began squeezing them so hard I thought she was deliberately trying to hurt me. She couldn't believe they were so big and kept telling me so in a sort of strangled voice." There was a pause as she fumbled with a zip. "I must take this skirt off," she said suddenly-"it's to bulky around my hips."
Without waiting for any acknowledgment from him, she had stepped out of it and sent it sailing over the bath. She turned around and put a foot on the lavatory seat, pulling the back of her stockings up firmly and smoothly over her thigh.
"You're getting excited now, aren't you, John?" she said with a half smile on her lips. "John wants to watch Connie have a piss, doesn't he! Johnny wants to watch me open these little panties I made." Her voice became quieter and she shivered. "Not yet, though, I have to watch myself in the mirror first-watch myself getting hot."
He had grown used to her talking this way. At first he had found it strange, but now that he had grown used to it, he enjoyed it as much as she did. Now that her skirt was off and there was more light, he could see her prominent mount of Venus and the slight curve of her belly above the waistband of her briefs.
"Watch myself in the mirror there like that girl watched me." She closed her eyes as if to recapture the memory in greater detail.
"Pulling at my breasts and rubbing her soft hands over my mound... exciting me like that... no wonder I couldn't stop myself from coming.
"You want to come very badly, don't you? she kept whispering. I could feel my cunt expanding. With those tight panties and her hands pressing on it."
She stopped for a moment, a slight tremor running through her. "I can now," she said.
The tight panties she wore with one or two hairs peeping through, were her own design. Fitting so tightly that they moulded the cheeks, they had tiny buttons all the way from the front to the rear, which gave access to her vulva. Craning his neck, he watched her slip the cup of her bra from one enormous breast. It shone in her cupped hands, the nipple slowly erecting and the light brown aureole contracting tightly around it. She squeezed it between curved and cupping fingers until the huge fullness of it stood out like an inflated balloon. His penis twitched violently in answer to the frustrating provocation of the act, as above him he heard her catch her breath.
"I mustn't come yet... I mustn't," she said through clenched teeth.
It was hard to believe that Connie had been ashamed of the size of her breasts once, he thought lazily. Always wearing slippy sweaters that tried to conceal-but never did. It was different after the party in Bayswater, though... she'd been high then, raving, in fact, and it was while he was quietly fucking her that she had opened her heart to him.
"Oh, John, don't stop fucking me; don't stop!" Then she had come-along drawn-out orgasm which, instead of leaving her exhausted, only increased her ardor.
He looked up at her again. She had taken her bra off altogether and was moulding and squeezing them together, trying to make the nipples touch each other, a detached look in her eyes. Between her parted thighs he could see the sopping crutch piece of her panties sagging away from the full lips of her vulva, and heard the rising note in her voice as she continued: "She took my pants off-hers as well, and stood behind me again."
She closed her eyes: "Her hair was rough on my bottom and when I pressed back against her, her fingers sank straight into my cunt. I had to make her stop everything while I stood there trembling and teetering on the brink of an orgasm."
She began pulling at her nipples, a light delicate pull that particularly excited her.
At the party he had discovered that she was indefatigable. She hadn't been able to believe that his appetite was as great as her own, and had abandoned herself to all the dammed up sensuality in her. Highly excited, she told him how she used the vibro-worked herself off... was the phrase she had used... even the thought of the machine causing another helpless orgasm. In a frenzy she had dragged him to the bathroom, a distracted look in her eyes, and had asked ___no begged him... to watch her urinate.
Wetting her forefinger, she began gently masturbating herself, telling him to watch. Straddling the porcelain bowl, she began to increase the speed of her finger, her voice becoming harsher as her excitement increased.
"Watch me, John, I'm going to piss... watch me!" the note of urgency in it grew, "I'm going to piss now... now... now!"
She had thrust both her hands between her thighs so tightly that spurts of warm urine escaped noisily from between her fingers, splashing him. Her hips thrusting and jerking, she had taken her hands away and watched closely as it steamed out of her onto the floor, the orgasm slowly dying.
"That word, John!" she said excitedly. "I daren't say it otherwise I shall explode... I've drunk so much." She lowered her hands and began pulling at the elastic waistband. "These panties are so much nicer than ordinary ones... so easy to open." Her fingers slipped inside them-"and finger myself. Oh, I'm sopping wet! My cunt's dripping right-through the material. I love to press it like this-it's so tight and warm. Yes. I can feel it running hot over my fingers."
He felt a drop of the moisture, cooled by its rapid descent, fall on his belly and slowly form a pool in his navel.
That was how their relationship had begun. After the urinating episode she had moved in with him, his sensual nature a constant pleasure to her. He knew now that she had masturbated every night for as long as she could remember... that the desire to urinate in front of somebody had long been a secret wish, but that only with him had she been able to realize her perverse ambition. She had discovered the vibro when she bought one to slim with, and had found it so exciting that even he used it at least four times a week.
Her breasts, too, were very sensitive and she could, when she wished, suck them to induce the orgasm. A trick that she had learned from a school-friend was to grease a toothbrush handle and slide it gently in and out of her anus. She would imagine that a particularly brutal man was sodomizing her and manipulate her clitoris at the same time. When he first "bottled" her, as she called it, she felt as if she were being fucked again for the first time, and had such a powerful orgasm that she nearly passed out.
Most of the little buttons on her panties were open now and she was standing open-legged above him, begging him to watch.
"My clitoris feels as if it's dancing," she said excitedly. "Can you see it standing up? You must be able to... it's so big, and oh, God, I don't think I can stop! Yes," she struggled with the rising orgasm. "Yes, I can."
She stood stock still, her hands well away from her dripping vulva, holding her breath until the sensation receded. The swollen lips were half open, the erect clitoris boldly showing itself from between them. A drop of the thin moisture ran down the inside of one thigh, the stocking top absorbing it.
"That was near," she said in a relieved voice. "I nearly came then. Even the thought of tossing myself off makes my cunt grow wetter."
She looked down at him again. "I want to watch you yanking yourself a little, not too much... just enough to build it up again. That's it; that's lovely. Stop now, John... you know I want you to back-scuttle me."
She reached behind her and separated the smooth cheeks of her buttocks, the middle finger searching. She pressed sharply... a contented smile came over her face.
"My anus... my arsehole is sucking at my finger," she said slowly. "I've got it right in now .. it's so hot! Not wet enough though. I'll have to moisten it."
Her fingers slid along the length of her vulva and emerged glistening. She reached behind her again.
"There, that's better. I can put one finger, and now two... oh, easy, Connie, easy! I'm pushing them up slowly-both of them-right up to my ring. It's lucky I defecated, no! I shit before. Why shouldn't I say it if I want to? Oh, it's so good! Easy, Connie, only two fingers up your greedy little arsehole!"
He watched spellbound as she gently thrust two rigid fingers up her anus. Her legs trembled as though she had just run a mile, her breasts rising and falling in sympathy. He was on the verge of an orgasm himself, the merest touch of her fingers would make him come.
"Another little bit like that," she said more calmly, "and I'd come like a bolting horse. This girl, she put her fingers up my arsehole like that... I'd never had it done by a girl before. It was so exciting that it nearly brought me off. I could feel she had her other hand up her own cunt... she'd made me fondle my breasts whilst she watched me-so I couldn't toss her off myself. She was whispering in my ear, asking me how I liked a finger up my anus... how I looked in the mirror... how I liked playing with my breasts; and all the time I could feel her fingers manipulating her clitoris against my bottom. Her breath came faster and faster, and I began begging her to rub me quicker as I began to come. Somehow she wrapped her legs around me, and I could feel her cunt, hot and slippery, plastered against the back of my thighs. She moved her hands until one was in my cunt, the fingers flicking at my clitoris and the other squeezing my breasts and pulling my nipples."
Connie became more excited as the story progressed, and her fingers left her anus and lost themselves deep in her cunt.
She continued: "She began to shout that she was coming, and I was suddenly frightened in case anyone heard us. And then, suddenly I didn't care any more. She plugged my arsehole with two fingers, jamming them up as far as they would go, and I began to come with her. Her cunt was slapping at my thigh, her clitoris pressed hard against it, whilst she rocked her hips harder. And then she went berserk. We fell over in a heap and she was sitting over me, telling me to squeeze my breast hard while she worked herself off on me. I'd never had anything like that before-I didn't even have to touch myself... I just came and came until I thought it was never going to stop."
Almost in a frenzy, Connie reeled over to the lavatory and straddled it, her fingers still working furiously in her cunt.
"Stretch your arm up," she said thickly, "with one finger pointed."
The cold edge of the porcelain bowl touched his arm as he did what she asked. Bending her knees slightly she caught hold of his wrist and guided his rigid index finger to her anus.
"That's it," she gasped. "That's marvelous. Yours is so much thicker than mine. I can feel it going in now... oh, easy, not too quickly. I really want to feel this. It seems to be open and sucking at your finger... wanting it... asking for it. I must piss in a minute, John, I must. Watch it closely when it happens. You know I find it easier to come when you do. I can hardly wait! And then while I'm pissing and its still splashing down, I want you to turn me around and back-scuttle me-fuck me up my arse."
Her nipples stood up rigid and straining at the apex of the taut white globes, thick and swollen with desire. Bracing himself he felt a spasm of lust sweep suddenly through him, as he watched her knees bend and separate even further than the bowl.
"Take your finger away, John-quickly!" Her voice sounded harsh. "My cunt feels as if it's going to explode, it's so swollen. It's aching so much now... I can hardly control myself... I must piss or I'll go mad I want the first jet to take me away... to make me come. Look, I'm stretching it wide now! It's like a million needles there... all making me come. I... oh, piss, it's starting. I can feel myself beginning to come... and I can't control it! Not any longer. I'm going to piss... and I'm beginning to come... it's exploding inside me and I can't stop. Oh, God; I'm going to piss! Yes, now... now... now! I'm coming... I'm coming... I'm coming. Piss, oh, I'm pissing now, and it's pouring out of me... I can't stand it... it's too much. Oh, I'm coming... it's too much!"
Frantically clamping her hand over the hissing stream, she seemed to go crazy. Her hips jerked backward and forward, sending spurts of its through her fingers, splashing John on the floor below, the walls; and then spurting in a heavy stream to meet the water in the bowl below. Separating her fingers she leaned forward and controlling her jerking hips, watched the noisy jet fall; the nerve-tearing sensation of the orgasm decreasing and diminishing with her emptying bladder. Still straddle-legged, she trembled as a result of the powerful release... her eyes clouding with pleasure. Between her separated fingers powerful spurts of urine still fell, expelled by the downward pressure she was exerting.
"It goes on for such a long time when I piss," she said slowly. "I shouldn't bottle it up like that; it's nearly too much to bear. There, that's it... that's enough. I can feel myself wanting to come again already." Her voice thickened. "Come and fuck me, John. Come and fuck me gently up the arse like you did this morning."
Naked, and trembling with lust, he got up and gripped the firm round hips that were turned toward him. She leaned forward, her hands resting on the rim of the bowl, her full buttocks gently moving as she impatiently waited. Her skin was warm and smooth, and the sloppy wetness of desire between her thighs, hot. Quickly, he felt the swollen clitoris and the hot sucking entrance to her vagina with his fingertips before he began to titillate her anus. His penis jumped with desire, but he deliberately prolonged the performance before attempting to introduce the swollen glans.
"That's it, you bitch," he thought lustfully, "Turn your arse toward me and wait until I fiddle around with your hole; wait until you want it so much you can't bear any more."
Reaching around in front of her, until he felt the rubbery mass of her breasts, he touched the nipple, feeling her quiver against him as he did so.
I've got to make her wait a bit longer, make her wait until she's nearly coming, he thought.
He began pulling gently on the nipples in the special way she liked, softly squeezing them between forefinger and thumb.
This is what she likes me to do, he thought lustfully. Pull her nipples, stretch them firmly, until she feels like beating herself off.
She began squirming with desire and started to move backward in a vain effort to feel him tight against her.
"You mustn't make me wait like that," she said, desperately. "You know I can't stand it. I like you pulling my nipples like that though... it sends shivers through me."
She caught her breath and pressed closer to him. "My anus, my arsehole, it's itching to feel your hand there again. Put two fingers in it, John... please. John, you must do something! I can feel myself beginning to come like I did when I was pissing... Please! My cunt is expanding and I'm going to come in a minute. Bottle me; fuck me up the arse. John. Christ, I can't stand it! My nipples are so stiff and I'll have to toss myself off if you don't do something!"
She began shuddering with desire, her breasts straining against his hands, and her breath coming in quick gasps. Putting his hand up until his fingers were at her mouth, he gently pushed until she began sucking at his forefinger.
"Make it wet," he said slowly. "Wet enough for your arse. You wouldn't like me to put my rough, dry finger up your hole, would you? That's it, that's enough."
He removed it and gently touched her anus with the moistened forefinger. She jumped as though his finger was red hot, her breasts swaying.
"Oh, God, that's marvelous!" she breathed. "I can feel it wet against my hole. Be careful with your nails, John. Oh, that's heaven! You've just got your fingertip in, haven't you? Gently, now... oh, Christ! In and out, like that... yes. Easy, oh easy, John... not too quickly, I don't want to come yet! It feels so open! In and out gently like that... again."
Standing up straight, he watched her shapely back curve upward with delight as his finger moved. Leaning backward slightly, he could see the tight sucking ring clutch at his finger as he began moving it in and out. He was dying to bunch two fingers together and force them in, but past experience told him that she would come too quickly. It would have to be a gradual performance before he could do that. His penis throbbed, waiting for the release the orgasm would give him... waiting to bury itself deep inside her bowels. The elastic ring expanded as he dug his finger deeper in, growing to accommodate the thicker part. She was moist now and there was no need for any more spit. He dug in again... deeper this time.
"You'll drive me mad... you'll kill me if you keep on like that, John," she cried. "My cunt feels so open and swollen... Oh, God, you're putting two fingers in now! Gently... oh, gently, John. I don't want to come yet... I want you to back-scuttle me to stuff your prick up my arse, before I do. I couldn't bear to come alone now that we've got so far. Stop! I'm nearly coming... Oh, Christ, why did I learn to finger my anus? I could come all day with your finger up there... it's better than the vibro. Now you're putting another one up. Three fingers up my arse! Take them out, John... quickly... I'm really coming again!"
Her voice sounded cracked and unreal, as she urgently repeated the demand. He pulled them out slowly... slowly... against the reluctant sucking of her anus, knowing that the imminent orgasm would die when they were removed. Clutching his throbbing penis with his right hand, he sought out her clitoris. It was swollen and much larger than any he had yet encountered-almost the size of a walnut; big through too much stimulation. His fingers rubbed slowly across it, and he deliberately ignored her half-choked cries as she tried to control the swelling orgasm. The labia minora were small and firm, not like the atrophied lengths of used flesh that hung down from some cunts. "I can't wait," she whispered.
"You won't have long now," he replied, guiding his penis to the wet half-open ring.
Thrusting two fingers deep into her vagina, he half wondered why she didn't want fucking properly. That was the trouble with her-she did things in spasms. One week she just masturbated herself, not wanting him near her, and another he had to thrash her while she used the vibro on herself. He watched the swollen glans nudge at her anus, feeling the rubbery muscle give slightly as he pressed, Knowing that that would be no trouble, he paused for a moment, feeling the muscle grip and expand. She remained motionless, savoring the sensation; enjoying every moment of it. "Just stay like that, so that I can back onto it," she said quietly.
He watched her as with a delicate shuddering motion she began pushing back against his penis, the sphincter almost fluttering at the insistent pressure.
Catching his breath, he watched the muscle slip silently and firmly over the glans. She kept on pushing, raising and lowering her hips, screwing herself firmly onto him; catching her breath as millimetre by millimetre it was slowly contained within her. Almost two inches of it was inside her now, and he could see the muscle straining and sucking at his ringed length. He restrained himself from crashing it deep into her, relaxing instead, suddenly content to let her enjoy herself. Her high heels were off the floor now, and her thigh muscles tensed as she moved her hips slowly and forcefully backward. The smooth, white hemisphere of her rump ripped as the great muscles swelled with her efforts. Putting both hands on her hips, he looked down and saw with satisfaction that about four and a half inches were buried inside her.
"It gets so thick at the end," she said lustfully. "That's why I can't be too quick about it. Thick and hard up my anus. It feels like an arm up there... huge and, oh, God, that's it it's all in and I can't take any more. Off now a little, and then back firmly. Oh, why didn't I know about this when I was a little girl? I... oh, easy Connie, you don't want to come yet."
She turned her head and looked at him, through half-closed eyelids.
"Push it in deeper, John, as deep as you can. Yes, that's it. Don't move, just keep still and let me work myself off on it."
"Try and time it so that we can come together. You like this, don't you? You love burying your prick deep in my arse. Be careful, now... I want to spread my legs further apart so that I can get you in a... bit deeper."
Her hips arched and she carefully slid her feet apart, -lowering herself a little when she found the right position.
"Yes, that's marvelous. Now I'll come off it a little... and then back... hard. Oh, God! that's heavenly! Tell me when you want to come, John; I can come any time. It feels as though I'm sucking you off with my arsehole."
Her voice thickened: "When you were away in Bradford last week, I did this by myself with that plastic hairbrush I've got. I watched myself in the mirror there while I did it."
The tenseness in his scrotum grew, a thick excitement swelling in his bowels, telling him of the approaching orgasm. Her anus gripped the throbbing length of his penis like a rubber glove... and he could feel it expand and contract as she thrust back against him. From her muttered pleadings he knew she was desperately trying to control herself so that they could come together. Accelerating his thrusts, he strove to catch up with her. Suddenly his penis seemed to swell, setting off an orgasm that he knew he couldn't control.
"Oh, John, I can't stop now," she babbled, "... can't stop. My anus is growing and expanding for you. Rub your finger across my clitoris, toss me off... make me come like I did when I was pissing just then. Oh, that's marvelous... ! can't stop, now. Fuck me... fuck me... up my arse. Yes, like that! Harder! Harder! I can't stop it... I can't control it. I'm coming. You are, too? I can feel it throbbing inside me. Come now, John... come with me! Oh, fuck me! I'm coming and your spunk's going up my arsehole... I'm coming!"
She began screaming; high-pitched yells that reverberated around the room. Her hips pistoned backward and forward on his ballooning penis as she rode on a wave of pure sexual delight; drawing out the sperm that leapt out of him and squealing when it spurted deep into her bowels.
Uncontrollable spasm shook him as he emptied himself in her, making him bite his lip until it bled, and tearing thick unintelligible sounds out of his throat.
It seemed ages before the orgasm subsided and he was left sweating and trembling with relief. A last convulsive jump from his slowly wilting penis, and it had gone.
She stopped screaming and eased herself forward, until with a soft sucking sound, her anus closed and his limp penis slipped out. Trembling, she turned to him, a warm gratified smile on her lips, her eyes half closed a few strands of dark hair sticking to her damp cheek.
"With you I could do anything," she said slowly, putting her arms around his neck, "and you could do anything to me-anything."
She stood away from him, and pulled the hair away from her cheek.
"It was a great day when I met you."
He laughed: "It was a great party!"
Watching her walk toward the bedroom, he couldn't help feeling faintly self-satisfied. Everything that he had ever wanted in a woman, she possessed, and now that the future was so bright, there were endless opportunities to take advantage of: endless chances they might take.
Her voice calling from the bedroom interrupted his train of thought.
"I want a bath in a minute, would you run it for me?"
He smiled and stood up.
CHAPTER TWO
"Good morning, Mr. Kebble."
"Morning, Miss Smith. Please sit down; there are one or two letters I want to get off as quickly as possible."
John waited as she organized herself, trying not to show the distaste he felt for her. He complained bitterly to his friends about her, especially those who had pretty secretaries. This one had an overgrown mole on her chin that wobbled momentarily as she spoke. It also had a long curling dull brown hair growing in it that he had never had the courage to tell her to cut off. He shuddered as she looked expectantly at him, her freshly sharpened pencil poised over her shorthand book. Why couldn't Connie come and play at being secretary? She'd be better to look at than this one.
"The first one is a personal one, so don't get it lost among the others, please." Miss Smith, who prided herself on being the most efficient, the most able secretary in Bowzens-she, lose a letter? Really! He could almost hear her ticking, and started dictating before she had time to say anything.
"Dear Clem. Many thanks for your kind invitation. Connie and I would be delighted to come. We could arrive about seven in the evening on Thursday by car, but if the day and time aren't right, you'll have time to alter it before then. As Connie says, it expands, and it is, I should imagine, rather bigger than when you last wanted to see it. She was a larger watering can now and tends it carefully. Are you quite sure your offer still stands?-Yours, etc., John."
That will give Miss Smith something to worry over, he thought gleefully-a larger watering can, now!
"There are a few letters from Apex here, Mr. Kebble. They should be answered immediately." He reached for the thick bundle in the in-tray, sighing as he did so. Still it wasn't very long until Thursday, and he'd be able to stay away until Monday morning.
"Correct that, Miss Smith; it should be fourteen, not thirteen."
"Away from this miserable place, away from it altogether! The address on that letter, the one you've just done, is, before I forget, 'Kings Leap, Hooton, Sussex,' and the name is Grinton-Mr. A. Grinton."
Her hair fell forward and a few strands of it got caught in the frame of her glasses as she tried to brush it away. He felt suddenly sorry for her as she tried helplessly to disentangle it, her watery gray eyes filling with tears of irritation. He stood up to help, but with a savage jerk she had torn the strands loose, and had quickly replaced her glasses. Her composure restored, she was waiting as if nothing had happened, her pencil poised again.
"Dear sir. Reference your letter... " he heard his voice drone on the usual rumble of traffic and the soft noise of her pencil on the thick pad the only sounds in the room. Out of the corner of his eye he looked at the modern building opposite. It had so much glass in it that he could see everything that went on. There was a tall typist in the second window a little above him, who sometimes waved to him. She wasn't there now, but yesterday she bent over, her back toward him, to pick up something. Her full skirt had risen way up above her stocking tops and he'd felt an almost painful erection... Damn Smith for being in the same room at the time! "This consignment should reach you... " He reached for another letter.
Clem, now that was a funny bod! He'd been at the same party where he and Connie had first met. Rolling in money, but no women. Not bad looking, a bit small, but not ugly. Wonder why? Hadn't said much-just stared at Connie the whole night-except when she pushed me into the bathroom and he couldn't see. Friends for years and I never knew he liked big busts. She must have driven him crazy! While everyone was raving, he'd just sat in the corner, looking at her, and pulling his pudding. Would like to buy me a new car providing I let him sleep with her. Come and stay, he said. Money no object. Why not? New car for a night with her-perfect bargain! This stinking job's driving me slowly crazy, anyway. Beautiful house he had; old but full of modern gadgets. Wonder why he didn't bring his wife to the party? June loves all that. Showed me her favorite dildo once. Hell, it was big!
"Is that all, Mr. Kebble? Is that all, Mr. Kebble?"
"Yes, Miss Smith, yes. I'm sorry, I was wondering whether I ought to reply to Blum and Co., now or later."
"Have they written? I didn't know they had."
He began fumbling through the letters too conscious of the irony in her voice to look at her. "I thought they had. No, I think that'll be all, Miss Smith. Thank you."
Always having a sly dig, aren't you? you old bitch, he muttered as she closed the door.
Feeling happier now that he'd written to Clem, he began humming as he walked over to the window: "He used his rather wrinkled scrotum as a purse!" Not too loud. Don't want her bursting in again: Anything else, Mr. Kebble? Yes, Miss Smith. On examination of my scrotum today, I found that it had wrinkles in it. Could you remove them? Don't worry, it's detachable. You don't mind if I wear it? No, I insist! Please take it away and iron it and jump on it, or anything. Oh, Miss Smith! I didn't know you were like that. Please, Miss Smith. My left testicle is rather fragile today. Gently. You sing the chorus. Of course you know it. The "rather wrinkled scrotum" one. Go on! Of course you know it!
He rolled a penny and a bob,
Down the length of his nob.
A tanner for the meter went as well,
But a florin was a problem,
And threepence even worse,
So he put 'em in his scrotum
And rang it like a bell.
Chorus, now Miss Smith. Really bellow it!
I'm going wild in my old age, he thought detachedly. Too much of what you might call, if you really thought of it, like, a little bit of the other! Hey no! I wish that typist would forget her drawers one day and minutely examine her left big toe. Must phone Connie and tell her I've written to Clem.
Picking the phone up, he asked for the number and waited for the dial tone. Wonder what she's doing? Probably finishing painting that picture. She isn't very good but she does try! "Oh, Connie. Yes, good morning. I've written to Clem to tell him we'll be over on Thursday evening. You what? You can't lie in bed all day, it's nearly lunch-time. You're playing with what? Oh, the vibro. Yes, of course I can hear it. No, I don't want to listen, there's something here that's keeping me amused. A typist. She's tall, with long black hair and the most magnificent thighs I've seen for ages. No don't come, she'll be gone by the time you get here. Didn't you have enough last night, without winding yourself up with that machine. Be careful. I'm speaking from the office and we're quite likely to be overheard. Yes, I bought the whole world's supply of tea today and built a colossal warehouse covering all of Hyde Park to keep it in. What did you say, have I got problems? No, I don't want to listen to the vibro. Did you hear what I said? We're going to Clem's on Thursday. I've decided we can have a new car after all. No, of course he won't mind me coming, June's still there, I think. He doesn't get married every day. Look I can't stay any longer, my testicles are freezing. They're exposed! No, it's just that I'm having the wrinkles removed from my scrotum for Thursday. Oh, nothing! See you tonight. 'Bye-bye."
Usually he hadn't any spare time once he sat down at his desk, but today there was hardly anything to do. He pulled his drawer open and took out the photograph of Connie that he didn't let anybody see. It was one of her he took when they'd been interested in photography. He'd posed her against a plain background and made her turn her head and shoulders away from the camera to the left. He lowered the paper covering it and looked at it closely. It never failed to excite him, and he noticed his hands shake as he held it. She was wearing a tight sweater, diminutive black pants, stockings and suspenders, high heels and that was all.
She could have been wearing less, of course, but nude, and posed against a plain background, she seemed to lose the special charm that she had when she was only half dressed. Her feet wide apart in her high-heeled shoes with her broad thighs bulging slightly over the stockings, and the taut suspenders, "for you-tight!" She became the rather shameless type of pin-up girl that she had always secretly wanted to be. Her waist enclosed with a belt which they had both drawn together as tightly as possible, was tiny compared to her vast breasts seen in profile. When he took it she had filled her lungs with air and had thrust them forward as far as they would go. She couldn't believe herself, that they were so big when the photograph was developed. They stood out like a pair of ripe cantaloupe melons. Only the figure forty-one and a half careful inches gave some idea of their size to anybody who hadn't been her. She had special bras made now that she had more money-half cups that light supported the white globes, but left the nipples free. The long hair that she had brushed until it shone framed a face that was both sensual and appealing, and the full lips opened to show the perfect teeth behind them, had a hint of a smile.
When he had first photographed her, she had gone about it with an air of delicate and withdrawn cooperation, but later she suggested poses as avidly as he was to take them. The camera itself had almost become an erotic symbol and even now she occasionally liked to be photographed. He'd thought of making a film with her but the idea had been abandoned when he'd brought some books from a weekend forage in Paris. Putting the photograph back in his drawer he grinned to himself, remembering that episode as one of the high spots in his relationship with her. She'd read them all, twelve of them, within four days, the vibro working overtime when he'd given up trying to cope with the erotic frenzy that they threw her into. In them she found the reassurance that other people were as sensual as she.
That story about the girl who whipped herself to bring on an orgasm, that was one that had almost driven her crazy. She lay on the couch in the drawing room the whole afternoon with her skirt up around her waist fingering herself through two hundred pages. There were lurid descriptions of how Lucia, the heroine, was bound in leather in beaten, smothered in rubber in beaten, sewn in satin and beaten, in fact beaten in every possible way, in every possible clothing, on every possible place. There was even one minute little bit where Lucia was forced to micturate in front of a whole girls' school, that provoked an instant orgasm. He retained a mental picture of her, as when she found this bit, the hand busy between her thighs, suddenly increased its movements she went rigid, and she threw her head back, eyes closed as the orgasm overtook her. She had re-read that bit four times in the afternoon, and four times the same thing had happened. In the end he had grown bored with that solitary performance, and had gone to a film only to return to find her exhausted, playing with the vibro, complaining that she hadn't come. He knew then, that there were no limits to her sensuality, and later events had proved it. For him, sex was a spasmodic feeling that occurred irregularly, but for her it was a continual necessity, and nothing else mattered.
He stood up as a sudden twinge across his loins reminded him of last night's excesses and walked toward the window. The same miserable bloody grind for all of us, he thought, as he watched the busy offices opposite. A thousand people in all these buildings, all desperately scratching for a living. All terrified of not paying the rent, all anxious. Still, all in all, things hadn't been too bad now that Connie was living with him It wasn't so lonely now that he knew she was there, even if she didn't do much. The empty months and years when he'd spent dull nights with odd women who bored him were gone now. That, if nothing else, was better, and now that Clem was on the scene, things in general were looking up. There's no use pretending, he thought, this could be a very profitable relationship. Clem's desire for Connie was so great that he had offered him anything he liked if she'd spend a week with him. Mustn't let her stay too long or she'll decide she ought to move in with him. Clem had enough money to buy him fifty cars without it worrying him, and by that time if it did become as desperate as that, he'd make damned sure he had to good slice of them before he let her go. He rapidly calculated how much this present job was worth, including the car and bonuses. Stretching it a bit, about fourteen hundred, and tax had to be taken off that before he could really count it his own. The temptation to throw it up, to be finished with everything connected with the whole stinking affair that was the Bowzen Tea Co., had often come to him, but somehow he had always managed to resist it. The whole trouble with commerce is that it's commerce, he thought dully. It's so insidious, you sink into it hoping that you'll get out one day; get out and do something on your own, knowing that the only time you will is when you retire. He forgot his self-pity when the typist opposite stood up in her little office and began combing her hair. She stood long enough in front of the mirror to give him time to examine her more closely. She was much prettier than he expected and had a figure that was quite exciting. Putting her comb in her bag, she pulled her sweater down over her hips showing well-shaped breasts and picked a bit of fluff off her sleeve. He kept hoping, in fact he'd been hoping for quite some time now, that she would fix her underskirt, anything that might show her legs. The idea of her doing it deliberately, of showing her thighs, excited him immensely.
Even if she didn't mean to, he could imagine that she was.
Curious how exciting women's thighs can be, he thought. When they're in bathing costumes they're no more than pieces of flesh, but put stockings on them and suspenders, cover them with a tight skirt, they suddenly become the most alluring things on earth. He caught his breath as she appeared to bend down. No. In any case, it wouldn't have been any use, she was facing him, and any exposure would be behind.
Why aren't there more women exhibitionists? More? I haven't seen one in twenty-six years. Imagine if that girl could only come, if she showed her breasts or her cunt! Not only would I be a happy man, but I'd be a worn out one as well.
Resignedly he walked back to his desk, conscious of the depression he was beginning to feel, but too uninterested to do anything about it. The telephone rang. He picked it up. "Mr. Kebble, there's a gentleman here from the Spring Market Tea Company... "
CHAPTER THREE
Both he and Connie were glad to get away from Kensington for a while. She was beginning to be affected by his depression, and there had been one or two bitter little quarrels over trivial matters, which although they blew over quickly enough, left him more despondent than before. The weather hadn't helped and every day he had to drive the few miles to the office in pouring rain, only the thought of going to Clem's prevented him from doing something rash. Clem hadn't replied to his letter, and he felt elated as he backed the car out of the garage, knowing that he was anxious that they should come. He opened the door for her as he got out of the gates, and she got in, smiling.
"It's such a pity we've been quarreling, John. It should be better now that we're going."
"It's stopped raining, that's one good thing."
"And you don't have to be in that miserable office again until Monday."
"Push that button down, darling. I don't want you to fall out."
"Mine, or this one on the door?"
Calculating that it would take him about two hours to reach Hoolton, with a bit to spare, he drove fairly slowly, not anxious to hurry. Somehow he felt in a holiday mood, and the sun breaking through gray clouds, accentuated it. She smiled at him, sensing him relax, and touching his hand quickly as he changed gear.
"The old simonized sprinter will have to go soon. It's getting worn out." He mentally patted the car, wondering what sort he should ask Clem for. A Facel Vega, perhaps?
"Do you really think Clem means it when he says he'll give you a new one?"
"Of course. He's got such a thing about your bust... he'd give us the earth."
"It's a bit different doing this in cold blood, than meeting him at a rave, darling."
"Oh, I don't know. I should think he'll make us pretty well at ease. He's got a fabulous house, a wine cellar that's filled to overflowing... everything."
"Couldn't we have the money instead of a car?"
"We could, but with a car we have transport in case things get difficult. We could probably have money as well, though," he added.
"How far does he want to go?"
"I don't know, darling. He just wants to fuck you and play around with your breasts a little, I should imagine."
"I don't mind him sucking them, but if he wants to tattoo them or anything monstrous like that, you'll look after me, won't you?"
"Of course." He grinned at her quickly, reassuring her. He must keep an eye on Clem. People like him were shrewd and he probably thought now that he'd have a slim chance of keeping her for good once he had got her down there.
"What's June like?"
"His wife?"
"Yes."
The question interrupted his thoughts and he had to think for a moment before he could answer.
"She's a little bit Lesbian; she'll love you. About five feet four inches, dark, very good looking, very sexy, very intelligent, and very large breasts, because Clem likes women with very large breasts."
"As big as mine?" she asked anxiously.
"Yes, but the thing with June is she's smaller than you, so they seem bigger if that be possible."
"Nice shape?"
"Rather long. Elongated, but round like yours. She's got very long dark nipples. She's a sort of mammary wonder, mamose to the point of disbelief. Yours are high and firm, while hers are terribly long. Great long swaying things, firm, mind you, but like long overgrown peas."
"You say all this with a certain gusto in your voice! Hope she is not my rival for your affection," she said affectionately, her mouth severe but her eyes shining.
"No one could do that, gorgeous."
"I'm the finest grind in London. You told me so."
"I did."
"And I'm the finest plater."
"Yes."
"And the finest wanker."
"You are!"
"An expert with the vibro."
"Oh, you are! You are!"
"Then I have no need to worry."
"You have not."
They had reached the country now, leaving the dull town behind them, their mood changing as if to welcome the sun. As always when she rode in the car, she pulled her dress up to her waist, relaxing and letting her legs fall slightly apart. He steered with one hand, the other lightly between her warm soft thighs, feeling the contrast between nylon and her skin.
They always seemed large and white, but now more than ever so. Those were the two words he associated with them, "The large white thigh bulging slightly above the encircling black stocking!"
She loved to do this, to let her legs fall slightly apart, to let people see them in a quick flash as they sped past. She never really knew the sensation she caused; never really was conscious of men's glances when they saw both her incredible breasts and her shapely thighs.
"I feel like fingering myself a little."
He knew that was coming. There had hardly been a journey in the car when she hadn't ended up by masturbating herself. There was something about the movement, the motion of it, that made her want to. On a bus she always wanted to, but never could.
Looking down quickly he saw her pull the crotch-piece of her panties to one side exposing the prominent bushy mount. The lips glistened slightly in the sun, showing that she'd been wanting to for some time.
Stretching her thighs further apart and sliding forward until her neck rested against the back of the low seat, she wet her finger and gently pushed it in.
"It's mushy!"
"And we were nearly mush, too," he said loudly as they were narrowly overtaken by a large green car. "We didn't give him much room."
"Mushy... ooh! I like to do it gently... very gently. Just touch the little lips gently so that I have to strain up to it to feel more. Ooh, gently Connie."
"You've got about half an hour, Connie." He'd grown used to her masturbating like this. Although it was a shock when he first saw her do it. She'd done it secretly for the first time with another girl in the back seat of a bus after a school trip, and had never forgotten it.
How old would she be then? Twelve? They passed through a small village. A yokel hardly believing his eyes when he saw Connie's hips raised to window level.
"I like whirling it around gently. That's half the fun of doing it this way. Now quickly, two fingers deep in my hole. Oh, God! I feel I could half sit on them and fuck myself with them. Did you notice me fucking my anus with two fingers last night? No don't answer... just let me think about it. Two fingers in my anus. My anus. My shitbox. My little brown hole. Two fingers in my little brown hole."
He glanced at her for a moment, surprised to see that her head was back against the seat, her eyes closed. She had slid even further forward and her thighs were as far apart as they could go without interfering with the gear lever. The black pubic hair that thickly covered her mound was flattened, pressed into tight ringlets by the pressure of her gently moving hand. They moved slightly quicker as she thought of something else, a contented smile on her lips.
"And then when I took them out you fucked me, you backscuttled me, you bottled me, you plugged my arsehole with your huge dick. Easy, Connie. How often I've said that. I'm hardly touching my cunt now, John, but my clitoris seems to be twitching... ooh! I'm all open. Why do I have such a big clitoris that torments me like this one does?"
"You play with it too much," he said dryly.
"Yes, I do. I want myself too much. I rub my clitoris too much. I work myself off whenever you're near me like I'm doing now."
It was impossible to say anything now. No amount of amusing talk or distractions would stop her. She'd just have to go on and on until she came. He felt the rigid length of his penis press against his stomach, but told himself he'd need it for tonight. His watch said twenty to seven. They were nearly there, perhaps a little early. She was still muttering, her head thrown back, her eyes closed and a look of tense ecstasy on her face. "It's raining softly in my cunt here, softly on it."
He slowed down at the traffic lights, and looked around him for a sign-post, trying to ignore Connie, who was now utterly absorbed in the pleasure she was giving herself. Not seeing one, he knew he'd have to go into the village center, where there would be people walking, people in cars, people in shop windows, people who could and would see her if she didn't finish now.
"Connie! I've got to go into the village. Come now, for God's sake, I don't want people looking at you."
She was panting, her eyes open, with a fixed, glazed look in them, unseeing. Cursing himself for letting her start, he caught hold of her bare arm and tried to drag it away.
"Don't, John, I can't stop now, it's too good to stop."
"The fucking lights have changed!" he shouted at her, as he tried to pull her hand away again.
"Oh, my God! They're red again!"
A large black car drew up next to them. A man and a woman were in the front seat. He leaned over the steering wheel trying to obscure Connie's protracted manipulations, returning the woman's smile with apparent enthusiasm. She wound her window down and with a flashing of false teeth, looked behind' him. Leaning backward he forestalled her and pointed to the changing light. Clutching her husband's hand to prevent him from putting it into first gear and a look of concern coming into her eyes, she leaned out further and said, "I say there, is your passenger ill?"
"No, madame, she always rides this way. She gets... "
"I don't care what she's doing," her husband's voice boomed back. "The lights are red and I'm not driving on."
"But you must. I'm going to faint. She's masturbating!"
"The lights are green now, sir," John leaned forward. "And your wife looks positively overcome with excitement."
"With excitement, yes," he replied eagerly, half-raising himself to see more of Connie. "What a way to travel, though! No we can't go yet, Prudence. I can't get the bloody thing in gear!"
"Never mind that, drive on!"
"The lights have changed again, I can't."
A long line of cars, all on their way to the coast, began hooting in despair as they changed for the third time. John began to laugh, deep spasms of helpless and uncontrollable laughter as Charles, in a frenzy of excitement, forced, and finally crashed the obstinate lever into gear.
"What a way to travel," he said again, admiringly.
His wife gave a despairing scream and urged him on, helping him by hitting him with her shoe. The engine revved, screaming with unreleased power as unmindful of his wife he strained upward to see more, his foot flat down on the accelerator. A particularly well-aimed blow from her and his foot had slipped from the clutch, the car shooting away half out of control, the rear wheels spinning and throwing up clouds of dust. Helpless, his eyes half closed, John had a quick glimpse of his face purpling and his wife's sudden collapse with terror as they rocketed forward. The lights were red.
Almost languidly, Connie turned her head toward him, an expression of unutterable pleasure on her face. "John, darling, I think I'm beginning to come."
It was impossible to ignore Connie. No matter what he was doing before long he would be as deeply involved in whatever was happening too her as she wanted him to be. He shook his head, half bewildered by her singleness of purpose, as they drove off.
Looking for a sign-post, he spotted a policeman and drove toward him, realizing when he was practically level with him, that she was in no state to meet a representative of the law. Flattening his foot on the accelerator, he shot off down the road, narrowly avoiding a dog and cursing too himself for encouraging Connie. At a traffic circle he saw a sign to Hoolton and skidded around it almost broadside on. "John, don't make it sway like that. I was almost coming then, but my... my attention was diverted."
"So was mine," he replied, feelingly, as he slowed down. "I think you'd better come now, we're nearly there.
"Looking down at her, when he'd switched the engine off, he couldn't help feeling a spasm of desire, even after the ridiculous traffic episode. She wouldn't stop even if a fifty-ton tank was rolling toward her, he thought admiringly.
"I can't come, John."
"Of course you can."
"Tell me I can. Tell me I'm going to come."
"Touch it lightly. Not too hard or you'll never come."
"Oh, yes! I love to hear you tell me what to do. You make me come then."
"I want to watch you. Swing your legs a little more toward me, but don't stop moving your fingers."
"Lightly. Is that better? Can you see it now?"
"Yes," he breathed, feeling his penis erecting again. Her slim fingers circled the budding clitoris, hardly touching it, drawing out delicate sensations that would culminate in an orgasm. Spreading her legs wider, her muscles swelling with the strain, she brought her other hand to her vulva and gently separated the swollen lips, sighing with pleasure as she did so. It gaped, showing the tensely erect clitoris under her wet finger and the blood-congested, glistening surfaces of the little lips.
"My finger's aching. I've been at it for so long I can hardly move it."
"I'm not going too do it for you."
"No, no. I don't mean that. I don't mind it aching. I just thought I'd like to use the hairpin."
"Oh, Connie! Leave any refinements for afterward."
"I feel like it, though. Still, if you really think I can do it when we get there, I'll forget it. Oh, God! It feels so open! I love taking my time about it, feeling it rise up until I feel I can hardly stop."
Her eyes closed and her hand stopped moving, as she fought to control herself. Trembling, she relaxed and smiled at him, her fingers slowly moving again.
His penis twitched again, throbbing with lust, and he had to fight the temptation to wind her thick hair around his hand and pull her head down to it. He knew Clem well enough to know that any party he gave went on for days, and he'd need every drop of semen for it.
"Across, lightly, and then my fingers against each side of it... rubbing up and down."
It peeped slyly between her fingers for a moment, and then was obscured by the passionate downward pressure of them only to spring up again as they separate slightly and returned. Her eyes narrowed and her nostrils swelled with excitement as a peculiarly intense spasm of pleasure swept through her.
"Hurry up, Connie, please. I don't want to come now. I can't keep on coming and coming like you, you know. I've got to save it."
"Why does it always get better? Every time I come it seems better than ever before."
The speed of her hand matched the excitement in her voice, and she was no longer sliding her fingers on either side of her clitoris but was rubbing the ball of her index finger wetly across it.
"I know you want to come, Connie. You can't stop it now, can you?" he said hopefully, trying to communicate the sense of urgency that he felt. Her hand increased its movements, the long white fingers almost a blur across her open slit. A narrow rivulet of clear mucous pooled in the crinkled opening of her twitching anus.
"Oh, fuck! It's so good! You watching me while I wank myself. Tell me you like watching me, John!"
"I love it. I love watching your fingers sliding in and out of your cunt like that," he replied with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. "It's great."
"You started it. You've made me start coming. It's like a big warm fire in my cunt."
Her hips bucking, her buttocks raised above the seat, she began to come, a stream of obscenities forced out of her by the sheer pleasure.
"It's swelling higher. It's all so wet. It's like spunk! Oh, fuck! I can't stop now. I can't control it any more. John, I can't!"
For a dangerous moment he lifted his hand to her hair to pull her down to his crotch, and then with a conscious effort of will resisted it, suffering almost as much as she was enjoying herself. Open-mouthed, her large thighs opened to their limit and her voice nearly inarticulate. She was coming.
"My clitoris is twitching. Oh, fuck! It's here! It's here now... I can't stop any more... I'm coming! It's the juice... I'm coming! Oh! it's killing me! I'm coming! I'm coming! I'm... coming... coming. I'm exploding... "
Her hand and fingers hardly moving in her vulva, and her hips and thighs rigid with pleasure, she felt the nerve-tearing sensation sweep over and engulf her in hot waves of solitary ecstasy, carry her along in its warm flow, and finally deposit her slowly and tenderly, content and relaxed. Leaning over, he put his hand on her forehead, sensing her relax, a new tenderness coming over him. "Better now?"
"Mmm," she murmured contentedly. "It was nice," Anxious not to spoil her semi-drowsy state, he pulled down her dress and lit a cigarette for her, before he started the engine. He looked at his watch. It was late and he always liked to be on time if he could. A small thing like that helped to create an impression of reliability, even if subsequent events disproved it.
Pulling out her powder compact and smiling half slyly at him, she started to repair the damage. Her hands shook slightly and her breath still came a little shortly as she talked.
"I am being perfectly serious when I say I never regret learning how to masturbate. There's nothing, no physical pleasure greater than an orgasm-even if I did produce it myself," she added mischievously.
"You do try and gild refined gold sometimes, though, don't you, dear!"
"Only because you won't try. Yes, I'm ready. It's all clean behind."
Chuckling to himself he reversed out of the narrow lane and swung the wheel expertly with a rigid index finger.
"Anybody who saw you do that would think you were as strong as an ox. They wouldn't know the steering's so loose a child could do it," she said laughing at him. "I know. I've done it myself."
"I don't think I'd better do it any more then. You'll think I'm showing off. We've got five miles to go and we're late already," he replied laughing.
The journey didn't take as long as he expected, and Connie had completely regained her composure by the time they reached the long red gravel drive up to the house.
"There's no need to be nervous," he said, comfortingly as he noticed her twisting her gloves around her fingers.
"I can't help it, John. I don't know what to expect."
"Expect nothing then. And you won't be disappointed, will you, Connie? It's nothing to worry about."
They could see the house now, at the far end of the drive.
"The window with the light on is the dining room, and those curtains blowing out of that open window are from June's bedroom," he said. "Just remember, before we get out, that both Clem and June are as gone as anybody you've ever met, and you won't go wrong."
She smiled at him, a faintly, scared look in her eyes. "I know you'll look after me,"
"It's me I worry about," he replied. "I get so carried away that I'm quite likely to turn green."
The car stopped and he pulled on the brake and switched the ignition off.
"You didn't forget the cases, did you, John?"
"No, they're in the trunk. I put them in while you were having a bath. Ready?"
"Yes, sir. Quite ready!"
It was cooler now outside-a pleasant summer evening. He was glad to get out of the car. Connie smoothed her dress down over her hips and took a quick look in her hand-mirror before she walked up to the front door with him. Winking at her, he reached up and pressed the bell, hearing it ring deep inside.
"It's a lovely house," she said, looking up at the gray stone porch. "I wish we had one like it."
"We may yet. A lot depends on what happens tonight and tomorrow."
"I suppose so," she replied doubtfully.
They both heard the rapid clicking of high heels on the corridor inside at the same time, and stood waiting quietly. The door opened slowly and June, a welcoming smile on her face, asked them in.
"We thought you'd got lost or something. Do take your coats off. I'm glad you could come, though."
"It took us rather longer than we expected, actually. You haven't met Connie, have you, June?"
The two women smiled and shook hands. Taking Connie's coat, he hung it up and looked quickly at June. She hadn't changed at all as far as he could see. She had the same stupendous figure and the same easy smile that he remembered so well. She was wearing seamless stockings and a skin-tight, rather curiously cut black leather dress. It had a deep slit up the side of her leg to the thigh and was cut low enough to expose the top of her creamy white breasts. Walking between them he looked down at her waist hardly daring to believe the sheer size of them compared to her tiny waist. He put an arm around them both, feeling the hard, unyielding corset she was wearing beneath the soft supple leather. She liked the feeling of constriction and if he remembered clearly, it was something she had learned from Clem. Connie pressed his arm, seeking reassurance as they walked into the drawing room.
"You're here at last. Come in, come in." Clem, beaming all over his face, stood up, flung the magazine he'd been reading on to a table, and shook them by the hand.
"I'm so glad you could come, both of you. Have a good journey?"
"John told June that it took rather longer than we expected. Actually it was our own fault; we didn't give ourselves time," Connie replied.
"Never mind. Do sit down. I'll get you a drink. Scotch for you John, I know; and Connie?"
"The same, please, Clem."
They watched him as he poured the drinks, a quick glance from John reassuring her. Clem was getting a little fat, but it seemed to suit him; made him seem less angular and the bronzed face, with the white regular teeth, was softening, losing some of the hardness that he'd had before he met June. He came back carrying a tray with the drinks carefully placed on it.
A pleased smile was on his face.
"I'm so glad you could come," he said, as they took their drinks. "I've been looking forward to your coming for some time. So has June, haven't you, dear?"
"Certainly," she replied, as she sipped her drink. "I've heard so much about Connie that I was as anxious as Clem to have you down here.
"You seem to be in demand," John said, meaningly to her.
Taking a deep swallow of her Scotch, Connie reddened slightly, but said nothing, and lit the cigarette Clem offered her. Through the flame John watched June as she lightly swung one casually crossed leg over the other. The tight leather had ridden above her rounded knees and her firm calves were broadening and relaxing with the swinging motion. Her waist seemed ridiculously small compared to her heavy leather-covered breasts, and her milk-white arms almost fragile. Aware of his interested look, she narrowed her eyes at him, a hint of excitement in the depth of them... almost a promise. Clem was talking to Connie about the party where she'd first met John, and how much he'd wanted to meet her. Still swinging her shapely legs, June looked at her-a look of unconcealed interest in her eyes. She leaned forward to John, exposing more of her breasts and the tight division between them.
"Where did you meet her, John?"
"At a party."
"Oh yes, I remember now. With a figure like that I can't imagine why I haven't seen her before, it's incredible."
"I don't notice it so much now. I did at first, mind you."
Still slightly unsure of himself, and of how to treat June, he waited, prepared to let her make the suggestions and observations.
"It's incredible, she breathed.
Standing up, she walked over to the cocktail cabinet taking both their glasses with her. June was one of those women who exuded sex. The exaggerated roll of her hips as she walked and the unselfconscious thrust of her enormous breasts was the outward manifestation of a nature as sensual as his own. The tight leather stretched over her round buttocks shone as the light from the chandelier caught it, and the exaggeratedly high heels gave her broad thighs a particularly exciting forward thrust as she stood still. His hand shook as he drew on his cigarette and he looked quickly at Connie to see if she had noticed. She had, and a broad smile spread over her face as she looked at him.
"June seems to be unsettling him," she said to Clem, "his hands are shaking."
"Mine are, too," making it sound as if he were trying to defend him, and putting his own in his pockets.
"Am I really?" asked Connie, as she brought the drinks back.
"Naturally."
"Fabulous! It interests me, this sudden excitement." She said this quietly and looked straight into his eyes.
"How big is her bust?"
"When we had the leather dress made, one a bit like yours, it was forty-one and a half."
"Not as big as mine, though, is it?" she asked drawing closer to him, her perfume reaching him.
"Not quite. How big is yours?"
"Forty-three, but then I always was big. Even as a schoolgirl mine were big. I had a very small back and they used to hurt like hell when I played netball. They were only about thirty-six, then, though. I'd be about fourteen. Mind you, there was one girl about my age who was bigger, but she was plumper. She and I had a tremendous crush, a really big thing about each other."
He was content to let her ramble on. The more he could learn about her the more use it would be later on. She'd obviously been drinking before they arrived and the alcohol had brought a faint glow to her flawless skin. He glanced at Clem, who was obviously stimulated by Connie's conversation. Quite suddenly he felt relaxed, and began to enjoy himself. There seemed nothing against it, and both Clem and June were anxious that they should enjoy themselves. Having convinced himself on that score he began rolling the conversational ball back to June, while she told him a little more about her school days. He watched the casual way in which she curled her legs up underneath her, showing more than a glimpse of thigh above her stockings, wondering why he had never taken very much interest in her before this. Her eyes were almost almond shaped and very dark brown, with long lashes that were unusually long. They narrowed when she smiled and faint crows feet appeared at the corners. Her long well-kept hands rolled the crystal glass, the ice clunking in it, and a large square-cut diamond sparkled on her finger. It could be worth well over a thousand, he thought. Perhaps a little more. Glancing around him, he tried to gauge how rich Clem was just from the furnishings. They gave little indication, but then he hadn't been over the whole house. There might be a gallery of some sort, it was certainly big enough to hold one, and Clem rich enough to keep it. There's only that Adam fireplace over there that's anything at all, he thought again, and then realized that June was still talking.
"Of course we'll have dinner first, and the Clem can show us some of the films he got. Some of them you might find interesting."
"Yes, I remember Clem saying that he had a film collection. I'm very interested to see them as he's got some that haven't been seen in this country."
"What's that you're saying, John?"
"We were talking about films, Clem. Apparently we're going to see some after dinner."
"Yes, sir! I've got a new one from Italy. There's some very good shots of an unusually interesting Neopolitan girl."
"I liked that one myself," June added. "She's really got something."
"Dinner first, though. If you'll press that bell behind you, John, it will give Alice the signal to start bringing it in."
They stood up, all sensing the excitement that each other felt at the thought of an evening such as this. John looked at Connie's face. There was one thing for sure-there would be no one who would try and spoil it.
CHAPTER FOUR
During dinner, which was served by a remarkably pretty and aloof Alice, he made an attempt to draw out Clem on the subject of money. He was thwarted not only because he had to approach it delicately, but because of the general tone of the evening. They were all slightly drunk, and had better things to do than talk about such trivia. Through the whole meal he had felt the arm pressure of June's leather-covered thigh against his own, and more than once she had turned to him sufficiently to touch his arm with her breasts, distracting him completely. Clem's voice floated over to them as he leaned toward Connie.
"The thing about sex is that it must be refined. It mustn't be snatched furtively in dark comers, but savored like good wine."
That sounds like an old roue's philosophy to me," said June, "but true enough, I suppose."
"There are dozens of ways of stimulating a woman, but most only learn one or two."
"I hope I don't fall into that bracket," replied Connie. "I'm sure I don't really. John wouldn't let me use the hairpin at all coming down."
"I don't know that one-tell me more."
June's leg pressed more firmly against his as she leaned forward to listen to Connie, an excited look on her face.
"It's just that I sometimes use a hairpin to masturbate with, that's all."
"How?"
"You put it gently into the urethra and move it-it's very delicate."
"Did you know this, June?"
"I've heard of it, but I've never tried myself. It sounds a bit painful to me."
"You do have to be gentle, I'll admit, but it gives a delightfully prickly sensation which gradually grows into an orgasm."
"You wanted to use it coming down, and he wouldn't let you?" asked June, her breathing quickening.
"Yes."
Connie was flushed and her eyes had a gleam in them that he had learned to realize meant that she intended to enjoy herself. Clem stared at her, fascinated by her personality and attracted by her magnificent body. The deep red dress that she was wearing suited her perfectly and the soft light from the candles enhanced her beauty. He knew that there would be no stopping her now.
"I think Clem can be forgotten about for a moment, don't you, John?" said June softly, as she lit a cigarette.
"I was thinking that Connie could be forgotten about. I didn't really, or rather, I don't know him well enough to know when he has reached that stage."
The leather dress had a faintly exciting odor, and she had moved closer to him, the narrow shoulder strap close to his nostrils. Her mouth with its full sensual lips was half open, showing white small teeth. He had a sudden impulse to kiss them and pull her tightly against him, but resisted it. Her eyes were laughing at his and he was quite certain she knew of his desire.
"These films will help," she said slowly. "They'd make a chocolate frog come."
"Help? I don't need any help! I'm as potent as ever."
"I'm glad. I like potent men. Strong ones as well," she said, looking at him through lowered eyelids. 'They excite me."
Instantly he could feel his penis erecting as the suggestion in her voice began to excite him. Her hand, strangely cold, slid unexpectedly along his thigh, accentuating his ardor, making his heart beat faster. There was a cat-like quality about her, something perverse in the detached way she talked to him. Shivering momentarily, he dropped his hand and laid it on the smooth warm leather, and slid it down and forward toward her knee, when she appeared to enjoy it. The skirt was higher than he expected, and he was able to gently caress the warm flesh through her stockings. Looking up he could see Clem looking awkward as he tried not to make his groping hand too obvious. Clasping his wrist with her cold hands, she dragged it toward her, pressing on it as it reached further up her thighs.
"Only occasionally do I like soft movements," she said quietly. "Usually they bore me."
Taking the hint he pressed down as hard as was allowed by the angle of his arm; pressing the suspended button deep into her firm thigh. He felt her wince but not a trace of emotion showed on her face and he did it again, feeling suddenly excited by her apparent disinterest. Reaching down until he felt the warm stockinged thigh, he pinched a fold of skin gently at first and then increasing pressure until he felt she couldn't stand any more. Fortunately or unfortunately the test never came because Clem stood up and announced that they were going to see the films in the little studio that he had built. Rising from her chair, June stood above him and putting her hands behind his neck pulled his face toward her flat stomach until his cheek rested against it. Automatically he reached up and clasped her around her broad hips, his hands meeting and resting on her buttocks.
"You interest me, John. I feel I would enjoy being whipped by you."
Startled, he looked up but she had unclasped her hands and was pulling him to his feet.
"The films will keep you amused until then," she said in the small flat voice, "even if you find it difficult to wait."
Connie was waiting by the open door of the studio as they entered. Feet wide apart, the unconscious stance she fell into whenever she felt excited, he saw her tremble as she showed them where to sit.
"Clem's been telling me about the films, darling. I can hardly wait to see them."
"He does excite one's interest rather well, doesn't he?" answered June dryly as they all sat down. "Mind you, his enthusiasm is justified-they're good."
The room was warm and comfortable with two very large bed-size settees in front of the screen. Connie seemed to take it for granted that he should sit with June, and she with Clem.
"There's about an hour and a quarter on the reel so I won't have to keep getting up and changing the film," Clem grinned and pressed the switch that operated the machine. "I'll leave the bottle in front of us so that we can help ourselves." He switched the main light out and sat down.
Trying to relax, John lit a cigarette and watched the blue smoke wreathe in the cold stream of light. June linked her arm through his and smiled at him oddly as the film began. "Relax," he heard her say softly.
Two Lesbians with sunburned bodies lay on a silk sheeted bed delicately lapping at one anothers' cunts. Their faces were obscured by the gently moving thighs of their partners, only the tightening and relaxing muscles of their buttocks giving any indication of their mutual pleasure.
Somehow he hadn't expected this first one to be so frank. A delicate seduction scene with close-up shots of fumbling hands might have been better. Glancing at Connie, he saw her eyes widen with a mixture of surprise and interest as she saw their lascivious embrace. She had never had anything to do with Lesbians, apart from a little school-girl manipulations. June laid her hand on his thigh and he lay back, glad that there was plenty of film.
One of them raised her head and smiled a secret smile both languid and sensual. Her lips and cheeks glistened with moisture and her eyes had a warm relaxed gleam in them that showed she was enjoying herself. She looked down at her hand which was half covering the sloppy-wet cunt of her partner, her brow creasing with desire. Separating her fingers she spread the full lips apart and lowered her face, her tongue darting.
June's thigh was pressed tightly against his, the leather warm through his trousers. Subconsciously he realized her hand had moved up and was gently cupping the bulge made by his erect penis, caressing it with long cool fingers. He looked at her, startled anew by the size of her half-exposed breasts. They were slightly separated and looked milk white in the darkness.
Leaning toward him so that they almost swayed in her dress, she looked at him for a moment and then lowered her head. Knowing what she wanted to do, he eased himself forward and automatically rested his palm on her neck. Her breath came through, hot, making him feel as though his penis was wrapped in warm cotton wool.
The two girls were exploring the possibility of as interesting-looking dildo when his eyes returned to the screen. One of them was testing the other by putting it between her breasts and squeezing them around it, while the other rapidly masturbated herself, a look of anguish on her face. Apparently the sight of this was too much for she grabbed it and began pushing it into her gaping cunt, while the other one watched, absorbed in her efforts.
The camera was there, close-up, showing the wet lips rolling along its glistening length, the clasping fingers blown up to ten times their size. There was a happy sigh from Connie as she and Clem collapsed out of sight onto the floor. His penis twitched as he felt cool fingers touch his tightened scrotum. June had raised her head and was looking at him while she fumbled with his pants. Reaching up she pulled his face down to her with one hand and whispered, "Just let me suck you off, that's all I want to do. You don't mind, do you?"
There was a forced hesitancy in her voice which he instinctively realized he should read as an attempt to be allowed, rather than be told. Nodding, he watched her head sink as his rigid penis sprang into view. Remembering how she had said she would like to be beaten, or whipped was the word she used, by him, he knew that she had to be encouraged by a display of mastery rather than with subtle flattery. The firm ring of her mouth slid firmly over the glans and her finger encircled the base as her head began to move. Her breasts, the warm mass of them rested on his right thigh, her narrow back with its flawless skin exposed to the waist by the unusual dress. In the background the machine whirred on, throwing onto the screen a film that had little interest for him. Her head sunk and rose with quick smooth movements and he began to feel the delicate tingle of desire in the base of his penis and scrotum. Closing his eyes for a moment he concentrated on feeling only her sucking mouth and firm pressure of her fingers.
Connie, her legs widespread to facilitate Clem's groping hand, had already had one orgasm, and was well on her way to another. The film had ended with a close-up view of one of the girl's faces distorted with passion as she came, and Connie had come with her. Fumbling with his thighs, she released his turgid penis and began gently masturbating him, timing her movements with his. The Lesbians had offered possibilities which she had only idly thought of exploring in the past, but now that June was here she might be able to put them into practice. The idea of sixty-nine with June appealed immensely to her, particularly as she had a body that was superior to either of the women who had been on the screen. Clem's knowing fingers dragged piquant sensations from her and she felt herself coming again, slowly and easily. Clem arched his body tensely, trying to stop the orgasm that her rapidly moving hand threatened to produce. It died in her quietly, and her hand only fluttered weakly, keeping up his excitement, but not exploding it.
Another film came on, and the screen was filled with a side view of a sinuous belly-dancer, combining the minimum of movement with the maximum of salacity. Her rounded belly with a colored stone set in the navel, swelled and contracted with unbelievable speed, the heavy tassels on her long slung belt dancing madly. One moment it would be pushed out, taut and shining, the next pulled in to make her mound obscenely prominent. Facing them and spreading her legs apart, she began lifting and moulding her naked breasts, while she lowered herself until her rounded buttocks were nearly touching the floor. The camera moved closer until the whole screen was filled with a picture of her jerking pelvis and the tight silk panties she was wearing. A narrow fold of the material trapped between the lips of her vulva, along which she ran a finger, tightened out and disappeared as her arm covered and pressed against it. She began rubbing herself on it, the passionate expression on her face increasing with the tempo of her rocking hips. There was something furtive about it, a total absorption in the way she was doing it, that made John wonder whether she really knew she was being filmed. She looked as though she were rubbing herself against a stone pillar like a ferret in heat, only interested in her own pleasure, not like a self-conscious masturbator being filmed. It was obvious that she was coming, her head went back and her eyes became glazed as the speed of her jerking hips increased. A frenzy of movement, a sudden spasm that rocked her whole body and she had fallen back, her clutching hand deep between her lazily moving thighs.
Quickly stopping June from her absorbed task by pulling her hair, John staved off an imminent orgasm She looked up at him, a worried look in her eyes.
"Don't you like me plating you?"
"Of course... it's just that the film got me."
"Was it the one about rubber?"
"The belly dancer," he answered tersely.
"I'm surprised-it's not kinky at all."
She ran her tongue around the glans for a moment and then crammed as much of it in as she could, her back arching. Moisture dribbled down its swollen length mingling with the perspiration at his crotch, making him feel more uncomfortable. Pulling her away, he raised his hips and pulled down his pants and trousers, sending them sailing across the room.
There was a yell of laughter from Connie as Clem followed suit, a shower of money rattling on the wooden floor beneath the screen. June cupped his testicles with both hands and gently massaged them with trembling fingers.
"I love sucking you off," she whispered. "One stroke of the whip and I'd come."
"Does Clem whip you?"
"No, he doesn't like it, he says I get too carried away."
"You have got one, though, haven't you?" he asked anxiously, the idea appealing to him more strongly.
"Yes," she trembled, and raised her lips as though she were expecting a blow. "It's in my bedroom. I can only use it when Clem isn't there. I have to keep it hidden, otherwise he'd throw it away."
"He won't mind tonight, he's got Connie."
"No, he won't mind tonight," she said slowly, and a note of urgency coming into her voice. "Look, John, you've got to whip me. I don't care what you do to me, as long as I feel that you're the master... and that you enjoy it."
"Suck!" he said fiercely, a spasm of lust sweeping over him. Her cheeks hollowed and her head began moving rhythmically as she eased herself into a more comfortable position.
Toying with the zip at the back of the leather dress, he pulled on it suddenly, her rounded buttocks seeming to almost burst out of it. She gagged with the shock, and then when she had got used to the sensation, began voluptuously raising and lowering them, contented murmurs corning from her. His hand reached out and touched, almost recoiling, when he realized the panties were leather. Leather drawers! He smiled to himself and wondered when Clem made her wear them. He suspected somehow it was a foible, a fetish perhaps of her own. They felt soft to the touch, with a moist warmness that surprised him, and were so tight that he had difficulty in forcing his hand between them and her flesh.
He was too absorbed in feeling the way her muscles relaxed and contracted to bother about the screen, the living thing held more promise than any sexual action however interesting that might still be on the reel.
Connie and Clem were completely forgotten, as his interest centred slowly on the body of the lustful June. Her buttocks were raised, her hips arched, almost begging to feel something other than his lightly moving hand. Striving upward until she was kneeling and her head below their level, she began sucking at his penis with renewed ardor, her breasts only touching his thigh instead of resting on it. The position was becoming impossible, his hands could only just reach inside the leather and touch the taut suspender belt. Raising her head, and looking at him with frustrated eyes, she sighed and moved closer to him. "Are you getting bored with the film?" she whispered.
"I'm becoming more interested in you. You're driving me mad!"
"You are me." She stretched voluptuously. "Would you prefer to come to my room? I don't like settees, they're too small."
He looked up and saw Connie happily spreadeagled on the floor, Clem intently lapping at her cunt.
"They're busy," he said, smiling. "They won't notice if we go."
They stood up trembling and walked toward the door, opening and closing it quietly behind them.
In her room they smiled at one another, relaxed and waiting for their excited breathing to subside. She sat down on the enormous bed and looked at him enquiringly. "You look as though you're going to say something, she said, smiling at him quizzically.
"I am," he answered, as he stripped off his shirt. I want you to show me your breasts." He watched her keenly as he switched off the main light. She showed no surprise, but stood up and walked toward a large mirror on the wall, humming as she went.
"Lie on the bed, John," she said quietly, as she stepped, out of the unzippered dress. Standing with widespread legs she twisted her body around until she was in profile.
"I want you to be comfortable." He shivered, half at the cold silk on his back and half with lust, and tried to relax. The distance and the suddenly impersonal situation that it created made him feel vaguely uneasy, as though he were being watched, and not the voyeur.
"Take it easy, John. You look worried. I love this, you haven't asked anything unusual." She smiled, showing perfect teeth and switched a small radio on. Immediately it re-established their former intimacy, and he could feel his discomfort evaporate. She was smaller than Connie, almost fine boned, but with an aggressive walk that gave no indication of her masochistic nature. The curve of her shapely thighs from hip to knee was a dream with the tightly suspendered stockings enhancing them, making a vivid contrast with the white smooth flesh.
"Clem taught me to like this," she said slowly as she reached behind her, "but it's for you I want to do it- not him."
Again he could hardly believe his eyes. Even before dinner when they'd been having drinks. He was amazed. Somehow, every time he looked, her breasts seemed bigger... hopelessly out of proportion to her almost slight body and diminutive waist. The leather pants, with the heavy bulge of her mons veneris, gleamed dully in the subdued light. The black specially-made brassiere dug into her smooth surface making them bulge over the wired edge. His heart hammered as he heard a faint click. She shucked it off a little, her arms down and together, and smiled at him, the mischievous look in her eyes dying.
"It makes me feel more naked in front of the mirror here. "As if I'm being forced to watch myself do something I don't like."
She reached up with one hand and unpinned her high piled hair, shaking her head when it was free and throwing the grips onto her dressing table. For some reason it seemed to him that the bra was made to fit on her breasts and not support them, they were so large that he felt she must lean forward and separately cup each one then, only then, fit the back hooks and eyes together.
Her voice took on a new note of urgency and she became visibly excited, her breathing quickening, and a far-away look appearing in her eyes.
"Showing my breasts off and their bigness... playing with them in front of you... standing here watching you while you watch me... know you're getting harder... wanting to... oh, God!"
The bra flew across the room and she stood silent as she pressed her hands against them, flattening them a little, a look of tense ecstasy on her face. His penis leapt as she cupped one dark nippled breast with her two hands and began squeezing it so that it stood up from between them like a ripe melon. Harder she squeezed until it was almost distorted and the nipple erected and stood up like a man's fingertip. Releasing it and crossing her arms beneath them, she looked down at them for a moment and took them away sharply. They swayed heavily, an angry looking mark across one of them where she had squeezed it standing out redly on their white surface. Almost in a frenzy she turned to the mirror and pressed herself tightly against its cold surface, her face an unrecognizable mask.
"You're watching me and I can only wait for you to tell me to stop. My cunt's aching. It's aching! My genitals, John, they're swollen. And the leather's gripping tighter now. Please do something... or I'll go mad!" Convulsively pressing herself against it, mashing her breasts against it and with outstretched arms, her voice rose to a pitch that seemed impossible. Sensing that he should prolong the performance, bring her to the point of frenzy, he waited for a moment before he told her to take the leather panties off.
Her hands darted and were already pulling the leather down before the words were completely formed. Facing him she stepped out of them and thrust her hips toward him, her hands circling the out-thrust mound as if she were frightened to touch it. The swollen lips with the black triangle of hair above them were slightly parted, easily visible from the bed.
"Where is it, June?" he asked menacingly.
"In that cupboard there. What do you want me to do?"
"Lie across the bed here and raise your hips."
"My bottom in the air," she said urgently. "Like this?"
Finding the whip, he swished it through the air, finding an unexpectedly pleasurable sensation in doing so. Her buttocks, white and round with the deep cleft between them, were raised well up, seeming to strain toward the blow that would surely come. The rope-covered handle felt strangely cold in his hand, and bending its pliable length between them, he experienced a foretaste of the act purely by holding it.
"What does it feel like to be like that?" he asked quietly.
"A bit frightening, but more exciting. I don't need much to come after lying in front of that mirror and sucking you off," she said, a touch of nervousness in her voice.
The whip whistled through the air, landing with a thin crack on her plump buttocks. She screamed, a high-pitched noise of sheer pain torn out of her throat. Again he hit, watching her jerk away from it, and again before she recovered from the last blow. Her fingers scrabbled madly at the silk counterpane and she began babbling senselessly, her whole body rocking with pain. "Oh, fuck! fuck! fuck; Christ, it hurts. It hurts deep inside me!" Slashing at her again, he began to feel the power he knew she expected his to feel. Criss-crossed weals, read and angry looking, appeared-and he deliberately tried to land the next blow directly on one of them so that the pain might be increased. Again, he raised his arm feeling the unexpectedly powerful tremor in his arm as the whip landed. "I can't bear such pain! I can't stand it!... Oh, Jesus... it's killing me!"
"You asked for it, didn't you, June?"
"Yes, I asked for it, asked for it, asked for it."
"And it's hurting, isn't it?"
"Yes, it's hurting, John." Her speech suddenly became more coherent and a subtle change came over her. She was no longer trying to avoid the whip but was rising up to meet it, arching her back and seeming to welcome it.
"I can feel it now. It doesn't hurt so much. There's a warm fire inside me... all inside my cunt."
Increasing the speed he rained blows down on her, the savage urge to reverse the feeling back to pain sweeping through him with sickening force. Her buttocks were a mass of weals and a few drops of blood appeared where the skin had broken. He slashed again and again, his arm tiring as the minutes wore on. She began bucking as her groping hand found her sopping cunt and began furiously manipulating her clitoris.
"I'm going to come now... I'm going to come. The fire in my cunt's read hot... Whip! John, whip!... Don't stop now!"
She wasn't moving now, only her hand continued its secret movements, and her breath was held for long moments as the orgasm grew in her. Her crumpled face, contorted with passion, lost its beauty and became a mask of lust-woman addicted to a strange and savage lust. His own lust leapt to meet hers and his hand pumped his painfully swollen penis, the orgasm rising at the touch. He heard his own voice harsh and unreal cursing and swearing is an effort to give some physical expression to his thought. He couldn't stop .. not now that he was coming.
"I'm coming, John. My cunt's opening! It's on fire!"
His penis swelled and he felt the electric charge of the hot sperm leap the agonizingly pleasurable length of his prick. His scrotum tightened and sent the pearly beads shooting into the air, three feet across to her buttocks. He slashed at them in a frenzy... a haze of lust in his brain, his thoughts centered only on his orgasm and the sperm and blood splattered buttocks in front of him. She began screaming again, her hand a blur between her separated thighs.
CHAPTER FIVE
It was about two weeks later when John met June again, this time without either Connie or Clem being there. Clem had given him the check and made it clear that he wanted every moment of her free time without either of then being there to disturb him. John had given in his notice and it was on a Saturday morning when he was having a late breakfast that June telephoned and asked him to come over.
"Clem's taken her to Paris for a week so I'll be alone. You must have taught her some surprising things to get him into a state like this," she said.
"The flower was growing already; it only needed watering regularly," he replied, lighting a cigarette.
"Some flower, John. Do come over tonight; the marks have gone now."
"You want me to replace them?"
"Now I do. I was in agony after you and Connie left, but in retrospect, I think, it was the most exciting thing that's happened to me for years."
Arranging to drive over in the evening, he put the phone down conscious of the excitement she had caused and looking forward to his visit. He wanted some time alone with her-to explore this new body, to lose himself in her. Picking up the paper, his eye caught a photograph in the gossip column. It was of Clem and Connie boarding the plane to Paris, and was headed, "Mr. Grinton and friend," the story beneath it reading: "Mr. Grinton and Miss Constance Spell are flying to Paris today to stay with friends. Mr. Grinton is well known for his exceptionally large collection of rare woodcuts."
He looked at the photograph closely. Connie was wearing the new fur coat that he had bought for her and looked more beautiful than ever. Oddly enough she didn't stir him; didn't make him feel any more interested in her now than he'd been at Hoolton.
Putting it down he tried to think. It seemed obvious that Clem wanted her as much, if not more than ever and that he had lost all interest in June. If he played his cards carefully he might be able to make the situation a profitable one, to say the least. So far Clem had given him a check for three thousand pounds and bought the mink for Connie that nearly as much. He'd told Connie to be not too co-operative with him-just enough to keep him interested. She had caught on quickly and had persuaded him to take her to Paris so that he could have a free hand with June.
This is some girl, he thought admiringly-the perfect combination of beauty and brains. He would have to play straight with her.
The day passed pleasantly enough and he enjoyed the lazy evening drive in the new car. It went well and he concentrated on running it in carefully and not pushing it too hard whenever a straight piece of road came into view.
June, wearing a plain black dress of black satin, was pleased to see him and busied herself making drinks for them while they talked.
"This is my own invention," she smiled as she carried the large glass over to him. "Guava and grape juice, martini and a large measure of gin."
He sipped at it. It was good, smooth as silk. Watching her as she raised her glass, he couldn't help noticing the difference between her and Connie. She was more sophisticated than Connie and had the good taste that she lacked. He felt more protective to her-more of a man to her than with Connie.
"You hurt me, you know," she said gravely.
"I know." He accepted the cigarette she offered him and lit it. "You wanted it tough."
"I did, John." Her voice rose slightly and her hand trembled. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. Every time I go to bed my thoughts return to it. I he there quietly at first trying not to, until I reach the point when I can hardly control myself."
"And what do you do then?"
"I masturbate," she replied simply. "Two, three, four times... until I feel relieved."
"That helps?"
"Not much, but it does a little." She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. "I've always done it, ever since I was a kid, but never so much and so often. When I sit down and feel the pain I have to do it. The pain's like an alarm bell."
"Why doesn't Clem do it for you?"
"I told you-it doesn't interest him. His sole pleasure is performing sexually with me. I like that but sometimes I want something different. I imagine so many things, but somehow I never have the courage to try them out with him. I could with you." She rattled the ice in her glass noisily to hide her trembling hands.
Trying to resist the temptation to throw his arms around her, he waited for a moment before replying: "What would you like to try?"
"All sorts of things," she replied vaguely. "I'd like to be tied up and gagged while I watch a film. Tied up, so that I can't move or say anything. Made to wear rubber clothes... made to lie in my own piss on a black rubber sheet."
The word rubber began to take on an almost magical significance for she rolled the word, her eyes lighting up at the sound. Her crossed leg began to swing gently and her breathing became quicker as she warmed to the subject.
"Yes, and I'd like to be forced to play with myself; to toss myself off while somebody watched me."
"Go on then," he said sharply.
"I don't understand," She looked puzzled.
"I'm telling you to masturbate now. Kneel on the chair and sit back on your heels with your legs apart.
She looked frightened for a moment and then she complied, pulling the tight satin dress up to her hips and stepping out of the black panties she was wearing. Hesitantly, she touched the bushy slit, a mute appeal in her eyes.
"How do you want me to do it?" she asked seriously.
"Exactly as you always do it. Exactly," he said menacingly. "And I want you to tell he exactly what you feel."
Leaning back in his chair he watched detachedly as she separated the swelling lips. Her eyes were closed and she was biting her lower lip. An anguished expression was on her face. Two hands stretched the lips further apart exposing the glistening inner lips and clitoris. Hardly daring to believe his eyes, he leant forward excitedly, amazed at the sheer size of the erecting clitoris. It was enormous, larger and longer even than Connie's.
"It's not properly hard yet," she said nervously, looking down at it. "It gets bigger than that."
"How often have you masturbated to get it as large as that?"
"I told you, ever since I was a kid," she shivered and leaned back against the soft chair. "My nurse used to do it before I went to sleep-I'd be about eight then. It's hard now... yes... " her finger began moving slowly "... it's harder now. She taught me to do it, and when she was thrown out by mother for 'corrupting me' she said I taught it to all the other little girls." She laughed harshly. "I was a vicious little girl then. The trouble was even after the nurse went I couldn't stop. My father used to beat me-quite often." She smiled faintly at the memory. "In desperation I was packed off to a boarding school where there was an even more corrupt headmistress. I'd be fourteen then... yes... on my fourteenth birthday, when she called me into her study."
Stretching her thighs further apart so that her vulva became even more exposed, she looked down at her slowly moving fingers. The angry looking clitoris was fully erect now, shining with mucous and twitching as her fingers moved against either side of it. The hair surrounding it was cut short, so as not to interfere with the constant stimulation that she was obviously in the habit of giving it. Lighting another cigarette and affecting a nonchalance that he didn't feel, he waited for her to continue.
"She seduced me quicker than anyone ever did-or has done since. I was waiting for her to say something when she suddenly put her hands up my skirt and started touching me up. I was so surprised that I didn't stop her, and she had her hand inside my knickers before I recovered. Christ! was she hairy! She was so hirsute it was unbelievable... even her thighs. She made me suck her off after I had come... pressed my face into that hairy mass. I didn't enjoy it very much," she added dryly, "but at least it gave me free licence to continue my affairs with the other girls. Does it look very open to you? Ah, that's nice... it's throbbing." She caught her breath as her fingers moved rapidly either side of it and then just as quickly slowed down. "I like holding it off... bringing myself to the point where even a warm breath would make me come; it makes it so much better when I really do. Do you remember me telling you about the girl who had breasts nearly as big as mine? No; I know you do. She was my particular masturbating partner, there were others, of course, but she was my favorite. She used to tie me up, tie my breasts up, wind pieces of rope around them until they stood out like a couple of misshapen balloons. She made me leave them on for class one day, under my blouse, of course. Everybody knew I had big breasts, but couldn't believe they were that big. Cheryl, the other girl, sat next to me and tossed herself off while she asked me whether they hurt! Something else that she did was to tie a piece of rope around my waist and then from that another piece, which she pulled as tightly as she could, between my legs. That really was painful, except when I walked. It used to work its way between the lips and irritate my clitoris so much that I'd come. Yes, when I think back Cheryl was a bit strange. Sometimes she'd tie me up altogether-ankles, breasts, hands and the one between my legs and leave me in the little dormitory. I couldn't shout for anybody because she had gagged me, and in any case, most of the time I loved it. You're not getting bored, are you?"
"Of course not. More interested," he replied quickly. "What does your cunt feel like now?"
"Hot!" she shivered, and moved her hips a little. "Hot like fire! It's so wet, and it feels so big... couldn't you suck it a little? Please!"
"No." He shook his head and settled himself more comfortably. It would spoil the whole thing if he did. "Do you have a vibrator?" he said as an afterthought.
"Do I? Would you mind?" She looked at him anxiously. "I only want to do what you want me to do."
"I want." He stood up and pushed his rigid penis into a more comfortable position. "Where is it?"
"In the cupboard behind you there." She pointed quickly, the fingers of her other hand still slowly moving in her cunt. "That's another thing he doesn't let me use. I have to do it when he's away."
Finding it, he plugged it into the socket next to the chair and handed it to her. Her hands trembled and her face creased anxiously as she switched it on. It seemed to him that Clem didn't do anything for her pleasure, only for his own. The machine hummed and she held the rubber cushion to her thigh to warm it before touching it gently to her cunt. Her eyes closed and a look of rapture came over her face as the minutely vibrating pad brought its own new message of pleasure to her aroused nerves. A vague wet noise could be heard above the soulless hum.
"This fucking thing!" she gasped. "No wonder he doesn't like me using it... it drives me mad!"
She eased herself forward a little, her voice becoming more normal.
"The torture with it is that unlike a hand it doesn't and she was silent for a minute. "I think... I think I'm going to come." Her voice sounded strangled and her hips began to jerk and buck as the sensation swelled.
"Like those rubber pants. I had to wriggle... oh God! wriggle into them, and they were so tight at the crotch. They seemed to pinch me there! The made a noise, a rubbing, stretching sound and they were... oh fuck! .. they were so tight! And then Charles brought this machine out and jammed it between my legs. I didn't come... I explode! I never knew... oh Christ!... I'm coming now! I never knew I could come like that. I didn't want to stop then... and I oh, fuck! I don't want to stop now."
The tight clinching of June's vaginal muscles around the broad-based vibrating electric cock almost held it still for brief moments as she raised her hips up and pounded against his hand, holding the helpless, unfeeling vibrator deep into the hottest recess of her body.
"Coming again," she gasped out, "God, so much, so long, such pleasure."
Finally, slowly, her muscles relaxed and she collapsed back, almost drained of all energy. John turned off the vibrator and slowly, inch by inch, withdrew it from her clinging grasp. A trickle of hot, sticky fluid followed it from her body and disappeared beneath her thighs. The odor was almost more than John could bear.
The excitement had already pounded so strenuously through his veins that he thought he would scream if relief didn't arrive quickly to ease the aching, throbbing, pressure that seemed to be centered right inside the head of his prick, painful now and hurting more by the minute.
As if she read his thoughts, June raised up slightly and fumbled at the opening of his clothes, pulling all of his cock into view, as well as his scrotum. She almost cooed audibly as she ran one fingertip gently all the way out to the fire-pink tip and circled around the dewy drop of moisture that teetered there. She masked the pearly fluid down and streaked it, with her finger, underneath the cockhead and down onto his balls.
John groaned in pleasure-pain and impatient anticipation. But not for long. Her breath seemed to sear his flesh as she moved closer, her lips sagging open slightly at first, then erupting around his blazing flesh and sinking downward in one smooth flow. Her teeth nipped into the rigid stalk and the broad head struck against the backwall-all the way.
Now it was his turn to gasp and flail about, the suspended moment of deathless agony taking control of his muscles and rendering him dead... alive... all... nothing. He jammed his hips forward in two short motions before he held rigid, his flesh growing to unbelievable size and temperature before the end of the stream of hot sensation splurted totally free into her waiting suctions.
Gasping slightly, he backed away, almost staggering, and reached out with his hands to pull himself back beside her.
June watched as his penis seemed to jerk slowly now and then, receding back into unprotected limpness... until it was almost totally useless to her. Still a persistent trace of pearly liquid appeared, as if reluctant to leave his body, and hung like a halo around the not-so-pink cockhead.
June leaned forward, her breath again hot against his hairy crotch, and licked away the remaining beads of sperm that slowly oozed out of his limp penis. In many ways she was better than Connie-better inasmuch that she was equally concerned for his pleasure as she was for hers. Her whole attitude, the way she unselfconsciously abandoned herself to her own desires without the selfish motives of Connie, that was better, too.
"Feel better, darling?" she asked quietly.
"Much! And you?"
She nodded, a relaxed smile on her lips, as she gently caressed his stomach. Idly running her hands through her hair, he felt a tenderness, a new and strange sensation well up in him as he watched her. Her eyes closed and her head resting on his thigh, she looked as beautiful as any woman he had ever seen, with the warm rich glow of satisfied desire on her cheeks. That essentially was the difference between the two women. Connie drove herself from orgasm to orgasm with the desperate intentness of someone who fully expects to be disappointed, whereas June was master of her own desire and respected it, treated it as an emotion that brought pleasure instead of guilt.
Lighting cigarettes for them both, he handed one to her and sat her on his knee. Resting her head on his shoulder, she blew the smoke out slowly, the fingers holding it trembling slightly.
"I wish sometimes that Clem was more like you," she said slowly. "I wonder so-so often whether he really understands women."
"Does anybody understand women?" he asked, smiling at her.
"I think he understands me, and that's what really counts. All the things that I feel I can do freely with you, I hardly dare mention to him."
"I know, you told me some of them." He cupped one of her breasts, feeling its warm heaviness resting on his palm. "However, I'm not really in a position to do much about it-apart from tonight, that is."
She nestled closer to him, arching her back so that her breasts were more accessible. "You could be," she whispered softly, "if you wanted to."
He grinned and drew heavily on his cigarette. "I've got Connie to consider, you know."
"Not for this week you haven't. Those two seem well suited to each other."
"Connie loves having it sucked, and from what you've told me about Clem he's the one to do it. Mind you, he'll have to be good at it, or she'll soon get bored."
"There's no need to worry on that score, that's just about all he likes doing."
"Variety is the spice of life, eh?"
She laughed and held her breast up to him, an urgent look in her eyes. Touching the nipple delicately he realized that she wanted more than light touches, and took his tie off. Slipping it beneath it, he twisted it around twice, and began pulling on the loose ends. Catching her breath and looking down at it, she watched the sloping ridges deepen and broaden as the pressure increased. "You do understand me, John. You knew exactly what I wanted."
It became more elongated, almost grotesquely misshapen, the nipple visibly erecting as he pulled more strongly. Her breathing became more shallow and her eyes closed as her other hand circled the erecting nipple. "Tie the loose ends tightly behind my neck now."
She leant forward to make it easier for him. The top half of her dress had fallen to her waist. She licked her finger and lightly touched the turgid nipple. The whole mass of it extended far beyond her chest culminating obscenely in a tight balloon-like swelling the size of an ordinary woman's breast.
She touched a breast. She jumped at the touch, her other sloping heavy breast shuddering. The contrast between the two-the one tie-ringed and sticking straight out, and the other swaying at every breath, was almost unbelievable.
The wet finger circled quickly, nicking across it, stopping for a moment to press on it, and then joined by another, squeezed it fiercely. Her eyes dilated and glazed, she looked at her moving hand, her whole body shaking with passion.
Aware of the almost painful erection the sight had caused him he began stripping off his clothes as quickly as he could, desire flaming in him. Naked now, he caught her arm and began pulling her toward the bedroom. Somehow, on the way he forced himself to go into the kitchen and pick up a plate of sandwiches. Opening the 'frig he snatched a bottle of wine, and cradling it to his chest hurried after her, the sound of his footsteps loud in the empty corridor.
Might as well have it in comfort, he thought, grinning to himself. Can't work without food-or drink!
In the bedroom she had stripped off the dress and was lying on the bed wearing only her stockings and suspender belt. Another tie wound around the other breast. Sitting up, a smile on her face, she held the loose ends to him.
"I feel odd with only one of them tied up," she said, looking at them.
Walking over he fastened it behind her bent back, and watched her closely as she licked her finger. Both of them now stood out, the swollen nipples of each fully erect, the brown circle surrounding them contracted to the minimum. Her fingers began circling again. Running his hand along her thighs he sat down and began pushing them gently apart. She responded immediately exposing the whole of her cunt... a sigh of satisfaction coming from her when she felt his fingers touching it.
"Suck it, John," she said quietly. "Don't let's hurry." She lay back, her hips gently moving as she felt him warm breath on it, a relaxed smile on her face.
Looking up, above the tightly curled mass of hair on her mount of Venus, he could see her breasts pointing vertically to the ceiling and the trembling fingers still pulling at the nipples. Parting the lips he could see her clitoris and the small flatfish lips inside. It was deeply hooded and not yet fully erect, and was still amazingly large. He tongued it, feeling the deep quiver inside her and hearing the sharp catch of her breath. There was no smell and what little taste there was was pleasant- not like some of the evil-smelling cunts that he'd gone down on in rasher moments. A spasm of lust came over him and he tongued her rapidly, flicking it across and around, pausing for a moment to vibrate the tip at the entrance to her urethra, and then sinking it deep in the vagina. Sliding his hand along the back of her thighs, he raised his head when it was between her buttocks, his index finger gently probing at her anus.
"Push it in," She was tense, her body rigid at the expected invasion, her thighs stretched as far apart as they would go. Her belly swelled with lust and he had to lean with his full weight on her hips to keep her from moving them too wildly.
"Please! Oh, please!" There was an added note of urgency in her voice as he took it away and moistened it in the slopping depth of her vulva. There was a sigh of satisfaction from her as he replaced it and gently... whirled it around the puckered ring. Looking down at it, he could see the crinkled opening expanding and contracting at his glistening fingertip. Vibrating it at the same time as he pushed, he felt it grip for a moment and then relax as it sunk smoothly and deeply in. She gasped and pushed herself deeper onto it, the elastic ring slipping silently along his finger.
"Suck me now, John! Suck my clitoris. Oh! Your finger is driving me mad up there!"
Sucking and tonguing her almost in a frenzy, he found her anus, stabbing his finger deep into her bowels-only to draw it out again, and hear her plead, before thrusting it back in. Her thighs flapped wildly above his head and her hips began jerking madly as the added stimulus of his finger made itself felt.
Pulling and stretching her swollen nipples, she began to babble that she was coming, her voice harsh and strained. Somehow he forced himself to move his aching tongue quicker, flicking it across the twitching, excited clitoris, sometimes sucking at it, sometimes even delicately nibbling at it.
Her body arched, was held suspended for a moment and then as suddenly as it all began became relaxed- only the spasmodic twitching of her thigh muscles and her trembling hands resting on his shoulders showing that she had come. Tenderly she put her arm around his neck as he slid up the bed and lay next to her.
"That was heaven and hell at the same time," She smiled at him as he undid the knots at the back of her neck. "I wanted you to put your finger in my... " she hesitated "... in my anus but you seemed to take ages about it."
"I didn't think so." He winked at her. "It's a pity I did, you come too quickly."
"I can come again, can't I?"
"Of course, there's all night yet."
Throwing the ties away, he pulled her tightly to him and separated her thighs, his finger searching for her anus again. She shuddered as he found it, but pressed down on it, trying to force it back in again.
"Do you think I'm greedy?" she asked, smiling.
"No, just hungry."
Pushing her away from him until she lay on her back, he half lay above her, his throbbing penis in his hand. She stared up at him, wondering what he was going to do next.
"Turn over," he commanded.
Slowly she did as she was told, until her shapely buttocks were directly beneath his hips. "Now hold the cheeks apart."
Hesitantly, her hands went behind her and pulled at her cheeks. "Wider!"
"Is that better?" she asked nervously.
Her anus exposed and still wet from the attention of his fingers appeared to twitch in anticipation of the thrusts that were to come. Lowering his stomach and putting most of his weight on his arms, he guided his penis until it was beneath the warm cheeks.
"Now guide me," he said tersely.
"Oh, yes, I want to." Excitedly she reached behind her and directed it, her other hand under her belly finding its way to her cunt.
"Don't be too savage, John, it's bigger than your finger, you know,"
"Thank God it is," He grinned as he felt it touch the entrance.
"Gently! Oh, gently, John! That's better. Now you can push, but straight." She wriggled her buttocks slightly to aid him, her warm hand tightly clutching it.
"It's going in! Oh, God! I can feel it going in me... it's splitting me wide open!"
Carefully he pushed a little more, unmindful of her fear, but having no wish to deliberately hurt her. It felt like a warm rubber glove clasping it-a warm rubber glove, carefully oiled, being drawn on to it. Deeper he pushed until he couldn't go any further. "It's all in now, John."
"Comfortable?" he asked.
"Mmm! It's like being fucked by a sledgehammer up there. It's not like being fucked the normal way. It makes me feel so open, so totally exposed."
Fitting himself tightly to her, he began gently reaming her, making the whole process as slow as possible so that she could enjoy it Her eyes were closed and he could see a look of absolute contentment on her face at his every thrust. The hand between her legs was busy, gently manipulating her clitoris in her own specialized way, the movements of which he could feel in his excited penis.
"It didn't hurt half as much as I expected-I thought it would be much worse than that."
He stopped moving, amazed at what she had said. "You mean to tell me that you've never had this before?"
"No. I've thought about it, but never had it," she replied, moving her hips voluptuously. "I tried to make Clem do it to me once, but he was so clumsy that he hurt me and I had to stop him."
"Do you like it, now that it's happening?"
"Ooh! Yes, I like it! I never knew it could be m nice,"
Falling into an easier rhythm, he began pressing into her deeper, letting the full weight of his body sink with each stroke. Her buttocks were warm on his belly and he lay on her back relaxed and comfortable, feeling only the tightness on his prick and the delicate sensations it was receiving from the clutching ring. "Do you think you'll be able to come too?" he asked. Her hand automatically speeded up its movements "Yes, I can come any time."
There was something about the way she said it... an excited inflexion that warned him that her orgasm was imminent, and he speeded up his own movements so that they could come together. His hips slammed down at her, burying his prick deep in her bowels, a fierce twitching in it warning him that the crisis wasn't far off. She was panting now, her buttocks rising off the bed to meet his every thrust, her free hand twisting the silk counterpane into knots in her ecstasy. A sudden surge and swelling in his penis and be began pumping at her savagely, sending spurts of burning sperm deep, deep into her bowels. Her own orgasm swelled up to join his and in a frenzy they reached the summit together, threshing around on the bed as though they would never be able to stop.
"You look as though you've come to stay for a week in my bedroom," she said, as he handed her a glass of wine.
"I have-didn't you know?"
Laughing, she flung her arms around his neck and half sat on his lap.
"As you've only got one shirt and you must keep that clean, it looks as though you're going to be naked for a week!"
CHAPTER SIX
In Paris Connie and Clem were enjoying themselves. This is an understatement for at that particular moment they were both in the throes of a particularly powerful orgasm. The situation was an unusual one because Connie was dominant in more ways than one. Firstly, she was above him, and secondly she held the whip handle literally. Spread-eagled on a bed with hands and feet tied to the posts, Clem, his back a bloody patchwork of vicious whip strokes, was frenziedly rubbing his penis on the cheap hotel blanket. Wildly slashing at his back and buttocks, her hand a blur between her open thighs, Connie was coming. The orgasm rose to a pitch of unbelievable intensity, one so powerful that she collapsed over him as it reached the climax, half unconscious. Clem too had had few to match the one her flogging had caused and shouted his pleasure as he came.
It hadn't taken Connie long to discover that he was a masochist. The Apache show that he had taken her to had excited him beyond words and on the way back to the hotel he kept telling her how much he would have liked to play the part of the beaten and kicked man. Realizing that this was the one sure way of keeping him interested in her, and answering a latent streak of sadism in her, she had persuaded him to ask two prostitutes back home with them.
They sat together on a large sofa with pulled up skirts and hands slowly moving between their legs. Plump, with the sensual face that sometimes seems to distinguish the Paris prostitute, they had provided the whip that Connie had so savagely thrashed him with.
Wiping a spot of Clem's blood off her arm, she sat up and looked around her. The two whores stopped their activities and waited to see what next she wanted them to do, polite smiles on their faces. Beckoning to them, she indicated that they should undress. The shrugged and unzipped their dresses. These crazy English!
Connie really had no idea what she was going to do, just the vague sexual itch that still remained unsatisfied telling her that she required more stimulation before she would be content. Pushing the darker and larger of the two back until she half sprawled open-legged over the unconscious Clem, she knelt down in front of her and with trembling fingers separated the lips of her much-used cunt. It was wet, and quite obvious that she had come at least once already. Telling the other to sit with her legs either side of her body, and toss herself off at the same time as she manipulated her clitoris, Connie began sucking gently at the cunt in front of her. Instinctively she knew on which parts to lavish special care and on which to lightly touch merely as a preamble. The delicate fingers of the one behind her began drawing out sensations so sharp that she almost gasped every time they moved. It was exactly as she would have done it herself, without the effort of doing so.
Burying her tongue deeper in between the warm lips again, she began teasing at her clitoris, circling it, rubbing heavily across it, up and down, and finally with the most delicate motion vibrating her tongue across it. Somehow the passive one communicated her pleasure to the one behind Connie and she speeded up both her own fingers and the ones buried in Connie's. All three began to rock and twist their hips as they began to come.
There was little Clem could do beneath the plump whore but try and stop himself from screaming with pain. He had regained consciousness when she had leant back against him, and now every time she moved it felt as though she was deliberately rubbing herself across the weals to give him yet more pain. The beating, the most savage he had ever had, was pleasurable but this, this was something different. He couldn't untie himself, his arms were too far apart and tied too tightly and he couldn't roll himself out of the way without causing himself more pain. Still, in his heart of hearts, he had to admit that he was enjoying himself. For all that, the idea of being first humiliated by Connie and then being subjected to the indignity of having a where roll over him, appealed to him immensely. This was what he had been looking for-the absolute non-admittance of his existence of his being there, the total disregard of his presence. In a spasm of retrospective lust the whole scene flooded back to him.
She had a whip in her hand and was going to beat him, was going to whip him. He shivered, and pressed himself harder against the bed, the pain in his back magically disappearing.
Squatting with legs stretched wide apart Connie pressed back against the hand behind her. Two fingers were thrust deep in her vagina and were sending blinding spasms of pleasure through her at their every movement. She was on the bring of an orgasm, and to judge by the dripping wet cunt that leapt up to meet her tongue, the plump whore was, too. The one behind her was moaning, her garlic-laden breath coming in sudden gusts as her fingers accelerated their movements.
Connie's face was suddenly deluged, as with slow passionate movements of her powerful hips, the whore spread her thighs even further apart and came. Clutching the sagging thighs in front of her, her face a mask of lust, Connie let herself come on the subtly thrusting fingers behind her. The orgasm rocked her, tearing small cries out of her throat, and then, when she felt she could bear no more, gently subsided, leaving her breathless and weak. She didn't hear the one behind her come-she was too shaky to notice anything.
"What about me?" Clem's voice floated over to her and it was all she could do to raise her head.
"What about me?" he asked again, urgently.
"Haven't you had enough?" she asked wearily.
"Not after that I haven't. Please Connie, do something for me."
Without letting him see her she picked up the whip again. Imagine him wanting more after what she had given him. Imagine it!
"Slowly, her legs shaking, she stood up, concealing it behind her. "This will teach you to ask for more!"
Savagely she slashed at his buttocks, watching with fascinated detachment the way his face contorted with pain. "This will teach you!"
The two whores, amazed at the indefatigable Connie, eyed each other and returned to the sofa. They should worry; they were getting paid to be there!
Again Connie raised the whip, unmindful of the screams that were torn from him. Selfish bastard, he is only concerned with his own pleasure, she thought. "This will teach you!" she said aloud. "How's that for pain, Clem, darling?"
"My God! Connie, you're killing me!"
"How's the pain, angel?"
"It's too much. Stop! Stop!"
"Not now, darling. You've goaded me too far!"
"I beg you!"
"That's right, darling." She raised the whip again, "Beg me!"
Something clicked in her and she felt a spasmodic twitch in her aching cunt. This was what she had been missing. She hit him again, savoring his shrieks. This was the ultimate in sensation; there was nothing to match the feeling of sexual power that the whip brought on in her. The heavy crack and the tremor in your arm when you hit him! Her eyes bright with lust and her hips jerking at every stroke, she belabored him with increasing fury.
"There, you-bastard! How's-that-for-pain?" Up went her arm and down came the whip, flecks of blood spattering the bed clothes. Up, down, up, down.
Amidst the fierce pain which he bore with necessary stoicism, Clem was aware that his penis was painfully erect and that every time he writhed it pressed and rubbed on the blanket. Would it ever stop? Did he want her to? He looked at her through tear-filled eyes.
Wearing only stockings and suspender belt, with her feet planted well apart, she was imagination made real. Those heavy swaying breasts and broad hips! And that arm as it rose!
Her hand clamped between her thighs and one finger furiously rubbing the half-exposed clitoris, she felt as if she were going mad. There was no stopping now-nothing could halt the flailing arm. And the nerve wracking-pulsing in her cunt. The sight of the blood on his torn buttocks would have normally made her feel slightly sick, but now it only excited. If only I could do this to John, she thought. If only I could tell him how much I'm enjoying it.
It was impossible for the two whores to remain detached for long. Their sensual natures had become inflamed at the sight of a Connie so abandoned as to be totally disinterested in their presence, so they fell upon one another with renewed ardor. Lying head to toe, they curved their backs and buried their faces between the thighs of the other, and began lapping at them like cats starved of milk.
Connie had climbed on the bed and with feet either side of his shoulders was aiming between his buttocks trying to hit the most delicate places. Judging from his screams, she was finding them. Her cunt seemed to swell and the familiar sucking sensation in her vagina warned her that she was about to come. Her arm was tiring, but she still managed to make every stroke hurt as much as before.
Poor Clem, for his condition was pitiful, was at breaking point. Praying that an orgasm would deliver furiously on the bed, hoping desperately that she would come before she inflicted any more strokes. Miraculously his penis swelled and the pain left his shoulders, only pleasure filling him. The whip felt only like a light tattoo on his scrotum, a feeling so new and pleasurable that he almost fought against the orgasm it was producing.
A red haze before her eyes, the orgasm welling up in her, Connie flailed at the bloody mass in front of her like a woman possessed. Her fingers flying over her twitching clitoris, she half squatted over him, preparing herself for the final humiliation that she had thought up for him.
"The pain-how's the pain?" she muttered half to herself and half to him.
"The whip-oh my God!-I can't stop... I'm coming!" She began babbling with lust, forcing herself to slash at him with greater force.
"The pain you're having! I'm coming! I'm coming!" Spreading her legs even wider apart and squatting lower, she held the lips of her cunt open wide.
"Here's something for you, Angel-it's here, oh! it's here! I'm pissing on you... I'm pissing! Fuck, it's so hot. Pissing on you!"
With jerking, thrusting hips, she splashed the heavy jet over the weals before her, the whip dropping from her nerveless fingers. The heavy smoking stream fell noisily, gushing out of her and slopping off his back to form pools beneath his threshing hips. "I can't stand this," she thought numbly. "I'm going to die if it doesn't stop."
It continued for a long moment in separate finer jets, and then finally stopped.
The urine burning his back triggered off an uncontrollable orgasm that almost made him lose consciousness again, never had he known anything so powerful, so nerve shattering. Nothing had ever compared with this, no self-induced orgasm after a fortnight of enforced celibacy had ever been so pleasurable. He al- most screamed as he felt the heavy bursts of sperm shoot out of his swollen penis, his voice unrecognizable with lust.
He could do little afterward but wait patiently while Connie untied him. His back burned like fire and every movement made him jump and writhe in agony. Through the pain he wondered whether it had been worth it, but when he felt her hand softly caressing his cheek, all doubts were dispelled and he smiled gratefully at her.
The two whores stood up, wiped their dripping thighs, walked over and began helping Connie to untie him. Supporting him, they helped him to stand up, hardly believing their eyes when they saw the still wet blood on his back. It was a mass of ugly furrows that dripped blood and looked as if someone had repeatedly dragged a sharp pointed grappling-iron across it. He gasped as she carefully sponged him down, shivering as drops of the cold water ran down his sweating thighs.
The whores holding him by the elbows sighed sympathetically, both glad they didn't get their kicks that way. So brutal! When she had finished she guided him back to the bed, stuck a cigarette between his lips and helped him to sit down. He grimaced and then smiled thankfully at her.
"You were wonderful," he said slowly.
"I hope I didn't hurt you too much; I want to do it again, before we leave Paris," she smiled as fear flooded his eyes, enjoying the new sense of power she felt.
"Not again for a few days- I couldn't stand it."
She patted his cheek absent-mindedly. "No, not for a few days."
"What about them?" He pointed to the two women who were putting the finishing touches to their makeup.
"They'll need some money, won't they?" she answered sweetly. "After that I think they'll need some!"
Reaching for his wallet, Clem extracted the equivalent of ninety pounds, handing them forty-five each.
"We'll have a night off, shall we, Lucette?" They laughed and thanked him, casting sympathetic glances at him as they left.
During the transaction and while they were leaving, Connie had been thinking. Clem was useless to her with her in her search for further excitement. The little flame of lust still burned within her as brightly as before, refusing to be quenched. Something had to be done about it.
"How's the back?" she asked sympathetically. "Not too bad now," Raising his arms to test it, he winced as the half-dry cuts re-opened. "It doesn't look too good."
"Oh, it'll be all right," he replied bravely. A plan was forming in her mind, the pieces falling into place as she picked up the pieces of rope that had secured him to the bed. Reasoning told her that he wouldn't object if she tied him up again, and that he might even enjoy it. She had read somewhere that the pleasure of many masochists was to be tied up, abandoned, while their mistress was out enjoying herself, oblivious to their suffering. Secretly the idea appealed to her as well. Yes, she thought, leave him tied up here while I go out and search for something new-that'll really give him something to think about.
"Turn around, Clem. I've thought of something very nice to do to you. No, it won't hurt; don't be frightened."
"I couldn't stand another beating."
"I know you couldn't and I'm not going to."
"Why do you want to tie my wrists up again then?" he asked nervously.
"So that you won't run away, darling," she said cheerfully. "I want to make certain you're here when I get back."
Clem spun around, fear in his eyes. "You're not going to leave me here, are you?"
"Sit down and raise your legs a little. I want to tie your ankles."
"But I don't want to."
"I said, sit down!" she shouted at him, her eyes blazing. He was tied both hand and foot now, and even if he wanted to come with her, he'd have to come naked. Locking his clothes in the wardrobe, she pocketed the key and smiled at him, a feeling of satisfaction coming over her. That should keep him wondering, she thought, and then to him: "You'll have plenty of chance to sleep while I'm gone."
"How long will you be?" he asked urgently.
"I don't know, about four or five hours at the most."
"Good God, Connie!" he exploded. "You can't do this to me!"
"Can't I?" she replied distantly. "We'll have to see about that, won't we?"
Rolling him over until he was face downward in the soaking blanket, she looked at him pityingly for a moment, and walked toward the bathroom, wondering what the evening had in store for her...
CHAPTER SEVEN
Now that there was no urgent need for money, John was able to face the world more confidently. The steady grind at the office when he had forced himself to work was over and already a dull memory. Connie had been fine for that world, fine as a companion during all that time, but now that June was here things were different. Already June had become the full present and Connie was becoming part of the distant past.
He had always known that Connie was a partner, a sleeping one perhaps, and this somehow seemed to mark the end of the line. Money had lost its meaning, now that he had it. Whatever Connie managed to make from Clem she could keep for herself. Stretching, he pushed the bedclothes down and looked at her.
Naked, with legs drawn up to her chin, she sighed and moved closer to him. Putting his arms around her and cradling her, he felt strangely protective, half wishing he could leap out of bed and defend her. She was warm and soft with an expression of almost childlike innocence on her face. Tenderly he touched her cheek, gently stroking it, feeling its soft warmth at his fingertips, careful not to touch her eyes with their long black lashes.
He pulled her closer, feeling her hot breath on his chest, stroking her shining hair, freezing when he heard her sleepily catch her breath and then relaxing when she snuggled closer. His lips moved to her brown shoulder, hardly touching the fine white line where the shoulder straps of her bathing suit had shielded it from the sun.
It was some time before she woke up. Aware that he was looking at her, she smiled and touched the stubble on his chin, her still-sleepy eyes half-closed.
"What time is it, John?"
"About ten o'clock, I should think."
His hand groped behind him and found the watch: it was time they had some breakfast. Slowly, prolonging the performance as much as possible, he got out of bed.
Running the bath, he pottered about preparing breakfast, putting the coffee on a low gas ready for them to drink when they finished bathing.
All marks of the tie on her swaying breasts had disappeared overnight and it was a flawless June who padded into the bathroom.
"Who's first?" she asked sleepily.
"Us!" he replied, grinning.
Somehow they crammed themselves into it and lay there silent for a moment, gently swishing the water over their relaxing bodies. Her widely separated breasts jiggled as she sat up and reached for the soap and began washing them. Taut and shining in her soap wet hands they seemed almost alive as she rubbed energetically beneath them.
"This is the first time this has ever happened to me," she said more brightly as her sleepiness began to fade. "I don't let Clem anywhere near me before lunchtime usually."
"Sometimes I feel sorry for Clem, he seems to lead a dog's life."
"He doesn't at all," she replied defensively. "At least he's never complained."
Easing himself forward slightly, he grinned at her and pushed his foot between her thighs. His toes touched the hair between them and then found the slightly moist entrance to her vulva.
"I shouldn't let you near me either!" she said mock seriously.
"Oh, but you would never know what clever toes I've got, if you didn't," he answered, pushing slightly until the lips parted.
"You... I can't stop myself when you're near me."
Her eyes grew bright and a little wave of water splashed onto the floor as she opened her legs further.
"Can't you wait a little longer?" she asked quietly.
"It could be arranged," he answered slowly, "provided madame has something in mind for later on."
"Madame has, madame would like to swim today. There's a swimming pool at the back, you know."
The urgency of sex had left them now and they dried each other in front of the bedroom fire, water forming little pools around their feet. She laughed when he hesitated, the towel between her legs.
"Go on, it won't bite."
"I'm not so sure. It's got the quality of attraction- and that's deadly!"
Carefully he dried her, the very act of doing so making her seem even closer.
For some time now he had been meaning to ask her about the leather drawers she wore, and now he saw her holding them, he asked her.
"Charles made me," she replied, coloring. "Somehow I don't seem to have lost the habit. They make me feel more personal... more... intimate."
"The same boy who got you on the rubber kick?"
"Yes, that's the one," she answered, as they walked over to her dressing table.
Opening a drawer she bent down and began rummaging amongst the neatly-folded clothes. With trembling hands she slowly brought out a medium-sized box. It was oblong. Untying the string she emptied the contents on the bed.
"What is it?" he asked tersely.
She didn't answer for a moment. He couldn't see her face, her naked back was turned toward him and her falling hair obscured the rest.
"A pair of pants," she shivered and straightened, "and a bra. Yes of rubber."
Almost languidly she turned to him, a far away look in her eyes. Eyes closed now, her breasts swaying and her whole body shaken by uncontrollable tremors, she was so obviously a rubber addict, and he was momentarily taken aback.
Seizing her wrist, her forced her hand open until she dropped the pants and dragged the bra away from her nose.
"Why?" she whimpered.
"Because it's breakfast time," he answered as gaily as he could. "Have breakfast first and play afterward."
"Breakfast first," she said slowly.
She appeared to have forgotten about the rubber when they had finished breakfast and she sat quietly, sipping her coffee and smoking her first cigarette of the day.
He could hardly believe that everything had happened so simply, it didn't seem right somehow. There was a nagging suspicion in the back of his mind that either Clem or Connie would cause serious trouble when they returned. He stood up and began clearing the breakfast things away, making a deliberate effort to forget it, shutting off all thoughts of them. This was to be June's day.
In the bedroom he picked up the rubber swim suit. He decided it was one even though it might have a secondary purpose.
Shucking the dressing gown off and standing naked in front of him she picked up the pants. Her hands trembled and she shook them to hide it before spreading the leg openings wide.
Wriggling her hips and leaning forward so that her breasts swayed, she managed to get them up to her crotch before stopping for breath.
"The sensations," she gasped, "They're stronger now."
"Do you like?" she asked nervously.
He nodded and watched intently as she turned around again.
Picking up the bra she leaned toward him until her almost pendulous swaying breasts were above him. Holding one of the cups open over her palm she raised it until the nipple was directly inside, and then with a quick jerk with two hands drew it on. The rubber stretched dangerously as she stood upright, holding her breast up.
She maneuvered the other cup until the tip of her breast was safely inside it. Catching hold of the free strap he drew them both together as with both hands around one breast she guided and helped it into the stretching cup. The other one was easy and in no time he had joined the straps together with the press stud.
"They stick out so far," she said, walking to the mirror.
He remained silent, too awe-struck for words.
Radiant, with a carefree swing of her hips, she looked beautiful, as though the rubber was a natural catalyst to her beauty.
"Swim, sir?"
The blue water in the oval pool shimmered in the sun, almost dazzling them as they stood at the edge. Suddenly he felt himself falling, the water rising up to meet him, and sensed rather than saw her laughing at him. When she reached him a broad smile on her face he could see the rubber shining beneath the surface.
"I want you," she said softly, as they bobbed up and down.
"My little rubber covered dove," he said, smiling at the unconscious alliteration and unlikely image.
"I'm dry inside them, you know," she said as they climbed out and began toweling themselves.
They were dry within a minute and he lay warmly next to her, idly playing with the elastic waistband of her panties.
Suddenly she convulsed-her hips arched off the ground and her legs spread as far apart as they could.
"God Almighty! It is so powerful?" he asked unbelievingly.
She didn't answer for a moment, but slowly relaxed, her smoky eyes half-closed and a tremulous smile on her lips.
"I'm sorry, John," she said weakly, "but honestly, I couldn't help it."
Still amazed, he pulled her close to him and put his arm around her shoulders. It had all happened so quickly-one moment she was calm, and the next, whoof!
His lust grew and he threw himself over her, pinning her beneath him, his hand searching her crotch. He found it and she moaned, her teeth bared and her head thrown back. It was hard and unyielding-not even the faintest twitch coming through as he pressed more firmly.
"Oh, God... I'm coming again!"
She began babbling, biting his shoulder and threshing her legs about and yet even now he couldn't feel anything through the rubber. The spasm didn't last long and she was fairly quickly normal again.
"I believe," she answered slowly, "they call it bondage. Charles used to talk about bondage quite frequently you know."
"This doesn't strike me as being... bondage, though."
"Try and pull them off," she said challengingly.
Gripping the straps he pulled gently, not wanting to hurt her; they didn't budge. Surprised that they didn't give at all, he pulled more firmly until her breasts stretched out horizontally in front of her.
"Pull!" she shouted.
"I don't want to hurt you," he said as calmly as he could. Seizing the straps from him in a frenzy, she heaved and strained-there was a faint sucking sound and then a whooshing noise as she managed to wrench it off.
"My God," he said feelingly.
The swollen breasts, red and obviously tender, swayed as she dropped the rubber to the ground.
"That is the result of discomfort," she said calmly. "But sometimes I feel I deserve to suffer for my pleasure."
"Don't do it too often, eh?"
"I promise."
His hand prompted by the desire that welled up in him again sought out her crotch. She trembled to control the orgasm that rose at the pressure of his fingers.
"I can't stop... I'm coming... John... oh, God! I'm pissing on myself, John, I can't help it!"
Her voice trailed away. The swelling grew as her bladder emptied itself into the rubber drawers. Sitting up and making the whole mass bulge until it looked like a colossal codpiece, she looked at him with surprisingly clear eyes.
"I won't be able to come any more now that I've... urinated," she said quietly.
It struck him as odd that she should hesitate over certain words when she used them with such abandon when she was fully aroused. His penis wetted again as he thought of the more practical aspects of her predicament.
"It's not everybody who can boast of pissing on themselves with such safety," he said gaily. "Most would merely be wet."
"It's so obscene, though," she said giggling and looking down at the enormous bulge.
CHAPTER EIGHT
An unsatisfied ache in her cunt drove Connie on. Already she had drunk more than she could safely cope with. The alcohol was giving her the necessary courage to seek out places that she normally would never have gone near.
The urge to whip was still strong but she felt she needed something a little more refined. The image that was trying to thrust itself through her cloudy disorganized thoughts was of a woman-yes, a little Lesbian!
She smiled to herself and called a cab, telling the driver to take her to the Left Bank. The idea grew more fixed with every ticking of the meter. When the taxi finally stopped outside the club she had chosen, she had a preconceived idea of the sort of thing she was looking for and was determined to try and find it.
Inside, she stood hesitantly, wondering whether she hadn't really bitten off more than she would chew.
Making a deliberate effort, she walked toward the bar, took her coat off and sat down.
She was waiting for something to happen when she felt a hand from behind her touch her hip. Spinning round on the stool she saw the most repulsive face that she had ever seen, and simply spun around once more, praying that she would try again. She wasn't sure, but she did look like a she!
After a few minutes a band started playing and couples drifted onto the floor.
She wasn't quite sure that she wanted to remain, in fact she was thinking of leaving when she sensed someone watching her.
Looking into the mirror over the bar she had a good view of the watching eyes and the face. It was a young face, grave, until the eyes smiled.
The feeling of certainty, that was the thing, the one she had been looking for, was a feeling for which she had not been prepared.
Ordering another drink, she waited in agony of suspense for something to happen.
It was about five minutes later, when she was absent-mindedly looking in her handbag that she felt a hand at her elbow. Looking up she was thrilled when she saw a small woman with wide-set laughing eyes standing above her. She indicated that she should sit and occupy the next seat to her. She lit a cigarette to conceal her trembling hands.
"Thank you," she said softly. "Can I buy you a drink?"
"Of course," replied Connie nervously.
The girl, dark haired and with eyes that were strangely gray in the bar lights, settled herself more comfortably on the stool and ordered two whiskeys.
"My name is Dairy; what's yours?"
"Connie."
The frank sympathetic gaze that met hers convinced her that she would find Darry an understanding companion.
Aware that her heart was beating almost too quickly Connie made a deliberate effort to relax.
"And what are you doing here?"
"I was bored, so I started looking for some excitement," Connie said, picking up her glass and rattled the ice in it.
Sipping at the whiskey, she became more certain that she wanted Darry.
"What were you looking for-in particular?" Darry asked, her face showing no trace of curiosity.
"For excitement, I told you."
"In particular, Connie?"
There was no avoiding the question and she began to feel vaguely uncomfortable.
"I thought so," answered Darry. "Somehow I can always tell when people want something."
"Do you make a habit of reading people's minds?"
"Don't misunderstand me, Connie, I was thinking aloud, that's all. And you want me?"
The simple answer committed her, and she was glad there was no going back., "My flat is not far from here," she said softly.
"Then let's go, this place is beginning to bore me."
It wasn't far to her flat and they walked, neither wishing to be driven.
A clock in the distance struck midnight, reminding Connie that Clem was still tied up. His predicament didn't touch her and she walked on defiantly ignoring it.
A large block of flats came into view and Darry pointed out which one was hers as they drew nearer.
Leaving their coats in a small closet at the entrance, they walked in, Darry holding the door open for her.
They were in the most immense drawing room that she had ever seen and good taste showed in every piece of furniture that filled it. A bookcase filled with rare and expensive volumes fitted in exactly with the decor.
Sitting down on a wide comfortable sofa, she watched her as she prepared drinks.
Taking the Scotch that Darry brought her she watched her closely as she sat down, pleased with her good taste and flattered that she found her pretty.
"To you, Connie," she raised her glass.
"To you."
Darry selected a record and put it on the gramophone. It was like nothing she had ever heard before... modern jazz that was strangely disturbing and faintly erotic.
"This is going to be the thing in ten years time," said Darry, and switched off the main light.
Amused at the individual way she lit their cigarettes, Connie coughed at the harsh taste, wondering whether it was some French brand.
"No, they aren't regular cigarettes. They're marijuana."
"New to me," explained Connie.
Somehow she had never had the courage to try them before. Already she could feel a certain light-headed-ness and a curiously strong urge to laugh.
Making conversation had already become an effort, and the more she smoked the less inclined she became to speak.
Standing up and taking a few hesitant steps on the long-haired rug, she began to sway her hips in time with the now recognizable beat.
"Take your dress off," Darry said. "You'll feel more comfortable."
Unzipping the side fastening and throwing the belt on one side, she bent down and pulled the dress over her head.
She couldn't remember answering Darry; somehow she had reacted to her suggestion first and then given a mechanical answer.
The tiny briefs she wore, little bigger than the triangle of hair they attempted to cover, made her feel as naked as if her skirts had been blown up around her waist on a busy street.
"Take them off and show me yourself," said Darry.
Unconsciously Connie reacted and, taking her hands from her breasts, stripped them down in one clean movement. She was still high, still enjoying this new sensation.
"Does it look wet, Darry?"
Looking down at herself and voicing her thoughts, she put her hands between her thighs and felt the moisture that was running down them.
"Only when you do that," she answered.
Stepping out of her skirt Darry let it slip down her small body. She shivered, wanting this strange woman.
She walked toward the bookcase and brought back a black box and hid it beneath the sofa.
She stepped out of her briefs and took off her bra.
"I'm ready for you now, Connie. Come, cherie, sit next to me here."
The touch of her warm flesh danced through her like an electric shock. A soft wet mouth found hers and they became lost in a passionate kiss that seemed to go on and on.
"Your breasts are so very big, no?" said Darry.
"You like them?" asked Connie anxiously.
Darry put the swollen nipple into her soft half-open mouth and a little cry was torn out of her as she felt it slip over it and begin sucking.
"Do you like what I do to you?" she asked softly.
"Don't speak, Darry, just suck them a little more."
With narrowed lustful eyes Darry looked at her, her hand still cupping her breast.
"I have something here that I want to use on you."
Darry snapped open the lid and showed three dildos resting side by side on a bed of black velvet. Extracting one and looking at it for a moment, Connie was able to see that it was an exact replica of a penis, complete with scrotum.
Placing the box on the floor and clasping the flesh-colored thing, Darry carefully spread her thighs apart and pushed it between the long lips.
"This will show you how easy it is," she said, her eyes dilating with excitement.
"Inside now," she muttered. "All inside my greedy cunt."
"Who did you get it out for?" asked Connie impatiently.
"Oh, cherie. I'm so sorry. You can have it now."
Raising her buttocks and spreading her thighs, Darry grasped the end of it and slowly began withdrawing it. Shining like a well-oiled piston, it came out, unwillingly at first and then with a sudden swift movement.
"This is for you, Connie," muttered Darry, as she separated the lips and sought for her vagina. Arching her back. Connie separated her thighs further as the head of the dildo sank in. She gasped with pleasure, her breathing quickening as the whole length followed -the scrotum touching her anus.
Can you pull it out until the head's balanced at my hole," she shuddered. "And then push it in again."
The deep surge as the dildo was buried deep within her almost took her breath away. Lustfully she awaited the next thrust, her nerves jangling.
Again and again the dildo was thrust up her, and all the time her fingers reamed at the opening of her anus. It was easier now, less wet and she was able to relax and enjoy the multiple stimulation without the pain destroying it. Her cunt felt open and judging by the sound, wet as well.
She began rocking her hips, rising to meet the twin movements of the dildo and Darry's fierce fingers. Her bowels seemed to turn to water and the tearing sensation in her slopping cunt grew and grew until she knew she couldn't stop.
"You're coming?"
"Yes, I'm coming. Oh, Darry, please don't stop!"
The almost sickening force of the orgasm grew, swelled up in her like a monstrous bubble, expanding everything, putting impossible strains on her nerves. She couldn't stop now, nothing could stop this!
"Your fingers up my arsehole! It's here... Oh!... I'm coming!... I'm comingg... Coming!"
Her whole body convulsed and Darry's fingers were gripped by the powerful sphincter spasmodically twitching as Connie writhed in ecstasy, her teeth grinding noisily and her thighs flapping wildly high up above the carpet. A tremor, a huge gasp and she was lying back relaxed and with a contented smile on her face.
"You liked it?" asked Darry.
"Mmm... it was heavenly."
After a few moments she opened her eyes and saw Darry standing above her with a glass in her hand. It was the whiskey that she had forgotten about. Smiling gratefully, she swallowed it and wondered why she hadn't noticed that Darry had such a perfect body.
"Come here," she said tenderly.
"What do you want with me?" asked Darry, wide-eyed. She didn't answer, but put the glass down and touched her gently between her warm thighs.
Darry quivered as she lay next to her, her face anxious.
"I want to give you the same pleasure you gave me." said Connie, when she felt the lips part. "I need it, Connie, I need it," she answered.
CHAPTER NINE
The days rolled by almost too quickly for John and June in England. Sunny day followed sunny day. In the evenings they stayed inside making love, lost in the magic of each other, and wanting nothing more than to be left in peace. Clem and Connie had long since ceased to exist and they were making plans that had no room for either of them Reaching forward he touched her hot brown skin, his heart leaping when he saw the smile that flooded her eyes.
"It's almost too good to be true, isn't it, darling?"
She nodded, too tired and relaxed to speak. The previous night they had made love like a couple of wild animals until the first light of dawn made their bedroom lamp unnecessary. Leaning forward he cupped the warm breast that nestled in its nylon cup, liking the feel of its warm smoothness in the weight of his palm.
It was getting late and already the sun had lost a little of its warmth. Gathering her in his arms he picked her up and carried her back to the house. Straight into the bedroom he walked, dropping her suddenly on the bed and smiling when she looked surprised.
"You can't just lie there when I'm hungry," he said. "So that's what you wanted, is it? I thought you wanted me."
"Again?"
"And why not?" she answered. "We'll have it in there-the food, I mean," she added when she saw his smile.
He changed quickly and walked into the kitchen to lay the table.
Pinching her bottom as he walked past her, he heard her yelp and laughed when she looked mock-sternly at him.
"Gentleman shouldn't," she said. "Lady shouldn't have such a nice behind," he said, evading a well-aimed radish.
The meal was excellent and the wine did justice to it.
He stood up and switched the phonograph on, selecting the record she had recently bought him. Too many strings for him, but nevertheless relaxing. Watching her smile as she heard it, he crooked a finger, indicating that she should dance.
Holding her close to him and swaying in time to the music, he thought how soft she was, moulding herself to him in exactly the way she wanted.
It reminded him of the first evening when she was wearing the leather dress and had leaned toward him. The memory of that evening ran through him like an electric shock.
"I remember once," she said slowly, "a man who chased me."
"Go on."
"Could we sit down, John. It's rather difficult to talk when you're so close."
Curious to hear what she had to say, he closed the windows and sat down next to her on the sofa.
"I don't know what made me do it. I was only twenty and older men had never very much attracted me."
She smiled to herself. "I fell for the etchings ploy, and ended up with my legs wrapped around his neck. He had a thing about my clitoris...
"I think it may be a little bigger now, but then it was still big enough to make him happy. He used to suck on it, draw it between his hard lips in a rather special way."
Drawing her knees up, she moved closer toward him and opened her legs, giving him easier access to her cunt. His fingers touched the lips and she shivered, closing her legs and trapping his hand.
"It went on for about six months, but that was quite enough. I used to hang by legs over the chair arms so that they were as wide apart as they would go-and watch him.
"Even when I got back home I had to give myself a final orgasm before I went to sleep."
"He excited you so much?"
"Yes, I couldn't stop myself going over to see him. That's all he was interested in. 'Come, June, and let me suck you again,' he would say, and I would hold open the lips, trembling and waiting for the blissful moment when I would feel his tongue. Rub it lightly, John, I don't want to come just yet."
Delicately in answer to her request, he moved his fingers, trying to keep her balanced on the edge of an orgasm, stopping when he sensed that she was becoming too excited.
"It was important for me to pull my dress up and hold it open while he watched me. He had to see me in what he called 'an obscene state' before he would start. I want to come, but I'm holding it off so that it'll get better as I wait."
Lifting her up and carrying her over to a large arm chair, he watched her spread her legs apart and rest them on the arms.
The desire to go down to her, to bury his face in her cunt and tease out and suck the huge clitoris became almost uncontrollable. Spreading the swollen lips apart he watched it appear, peeping out of its pink bed and then shoot forward as she moved her hips.
He put his head between her thighs. Drawing it in firmly, he felt her shudder.
"That's perfect. Do that for a little longer, but you must stop when I tell you, John."
Arching her back she reached down until she was able to touch his slowly moving head. By pushing back she staved off an imminent orgasm, holding herself rigid as it slowly receded.
"He liked me to talk to him when he was sucking me," she said. "Slowly, John! Oh, that's heavenly."
He was blind to anything but the warm, wet cunt in front of him, and deaf to anything but her excited voice above him.
"You're torturing me with your tongue down there," she babbled. It was becoming more difficult to keep his tongue on the right spot as her hips moved increasingly wildly.
"That tongue of yours in my cunt! Oh, God! Don't stop now... oh... please... don't stop! I'm coming! I'm coming... you're sucking me... I'm coming."
CHAPTER TEN
The next morning, when a rather tired Connie released an equally tired Clem from his bonds, there were bound to be a few arguments. She had decided to tell him exactly what she had been doing and trust that the curious nature of the masochist would twist and readjust the facts to suit the purpose.
Tearing the bedclothes off the mattress, he turned it over so that she could he on it and fussed around her asking her what she wanted to do for the day. "Sleep," she replied wearily.
It was good to lie down after the exhausting night she had given herself. She and Darry had managed to use all the dildos, even the two-headed one that they could use together, before they had collapsed.
She determined that there would be no half-measures in her relationship with Clem; there was no room for them.
"Ring the service bell, Clem."
He looked startled for a moment and then walked over to the wall and pressed it.
"Put your shirt on and a dressing gown and tell the chambermaid that we want breakfast and a new room."
"Certainly, dear."
Pulling on his trousers, wincing when he bent forward, he congratulated himself on finding Connie. This girl is one in a million, he exulted... something that he had been looking for for a long time. Someone to order Mm about... make him do menial tasks that would previously have made him furious.
She lay there half asleep, too tired to move, only the thought of a large cup of strong black coffee keeping her awake.
They didn't speak for a few minutes, the only sound the clink and scrape of Clem's razor as he shaved.
There was a knock at the door and Clem spoke rapidly in French for a moment before closing it again.
"What did you say to her?" asked Connie.
Exactly what you wanted me to," he replied. "I've asked for another room-and some breakfast to wait for us there."
"That's good," she answered drowsily.
The telephone shrilled at her side and Clem picked it up and began talking loudly, an imperious note coming into his voice. After a few minutes he put it down, a pleased smile coming over his face.
"Why the smile?" she asked.
"They're giving us the bridal suite."
The new room was much larger and had a little alcove set in one wall that had a small table in it Their breakfast was ready, the coffee pot steaming and wafting toward their inquisitive nostrils.
Breakfast over, about half an hour later they set off in a car that Clem had hired. They drove out to Fontainbleu and the whole day passed like a dream. Clem had been marvelously attentive, pointing out all the things she should remember, and generally being helpful.
In the evening he took her on a tour of all the night clubs they could manage. Eventually they found a small club with an interesting atmosphere and a show to match.
"Everything okay?" he asked kindly.
"Lovely! I can't wait for the show to start."
"It won't be long now."
Clem eased himself forward in his chair. A vision of whirling limbs and lace, taut suspenders and flashing thighs, of bouncing breasts and straining muscles-the can-can!
Up went their legs and up flew their skirts. The whole stage thundered with their crashing feet, the shrieks grew to a crescendo as one by one they ran forward and crashed down into a final split that echoed round the room.
"Thank God I don't have to do that for a living," Connie breathed.
Clem read from the program, "The chair," a perplexed expression on his face.
There was no announcement when the curtain slid back and showed a chair in the middle of the stage, and nothing else to suggest what its purpose was.
"This is Vanda," a voice in the background said.
A drum beat, the flute quavered and she advanced slowly toward the chair, the spotlight a pool around her feet. She was dressed entirely in a one-piece gray metal suit, the pants of which were absolutely skintight, the top half a little looser.
Resting her hand on the back of the chair, and turning her head slowly in time to the music, she faced them with closed eyes. Slowly raising her leg, she extended it until it was horizontal to the seat, and then lowered it to the other side. She was straddling it now, her hips moving in time to the music. Still moving her hips, she lowered herself on to the seat. Her bust was thrown into relief and a gasp came from the audience as she suddenly clutched them through the material and fiercely, with trembling fingers, squeezed them.
She seemed tense, a carefully contrived shiver that shook her, when she finally unzipped the jacket.
The front gaped open and her breasts, white in their black net bra, were half exposed. She gradually worked the two halves off until with a soft rustle they fell to her elbows. Arching her back and thrusting out her breasts, she shook them while she unzipped the sleeves.
A sudden flurry of movement and she had twisted the chair around until the back was facing the audience with wide apart legs. Sitting up and breathing deeply, she leaned forward until her breasts were over the back, exposed nearly to the nipple.
She raised one leg and reached forward until she found the zip at her ankle and smoothly drew it toward her.
The other zip was drawn back and both legs were now completely naked. She winked at the audience as she undid the catch to her bra, letting it fall to the floor.
The drum beat faster, as her hips bucked, her heels were off the floor and little passionate cries escaped from her. In a frenzy she socked her hips forward, the movement almost a blur in the harsh spotlight, until with a scream, she became absolutely rigid, her breasts rising and falling with lust as she appeared to have a powerful orgasm. A final clatter from the drums and the spotlight went out end the curtains drew across.
Clem was interested in meeting Vanda. Slipping the head waiter some money, he spoke to him rapidly in French and then turned to Connie.
"He says he thinks she has to go to another club, but he'll try in any case."
Anxiously she watched the door at the side of the stage. It was quite possible she could be persuaded to go back with them. Connie had plans for Vanda.
Clem's voice broke her train of thought. "Here she is," he said suddenly.
He stood up, pulled out a chair for her and introduced Connie. Instantly Connie knew that Vanda was something out of the ordinary. She had a trick of smiling out of half-closed eyes and touching her tongue against her teeth.
"I'm flattered-why?" she asked, spreading her arms.
"We enjoyed your act so much we thought we'd like to thank you personally," answered Connie.
"You are looking for the night-life, yes?"
"We are," replied Connie quickly.
"And would you like me to show you what there is?"
"If it can be arranged," Clem answered diffidently.
In less than five minutes they had roughly mapped out a campaign. Vanda suggested two or three places that they definitely must see, laughing delightedly when they concurred.
Paying the bill while the two women made plans, Clem began to feel that every minute of the journey had been worth while.
"Are you ready, Clem?" asked Connie.
"And willing."
Unconsciously he had given some indication of his frame of mind. "And willing" was just about how he felt.
It was about eleven o'clock when they stood outside. Vanda, a little taller than Connie, smiled as he dusted a speck of cigarette ash off her shoulder, and thanked him gracefully. Running her hand viciously across his back, Connie watched him wince as he returned Vanda's smile.
A cab drew up and they climbed in, Connie whispering in his ear as he bent down.
"Of course it hurt," he replied, wincing as she did it again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
John couldn't understand why June wanted to watch a film show now, when she had endless opportunities of doing so when Clem was at home. At least it didn't involve much effort.
"There are a couple of films that I haven't seen yet," she said, holding them up to him.
She was completely naked except for her white high-heeled shoes. Running his left hand over her smooth buttocks he flipped an obstinate piece of film out of the projector, he smiled triumphantly when he saw that the machine was ready for action.
She had pushed the immense settee more forward and arranged drinks and glasses on a table in front of it. Glad to sit down, he switched the machine on and waited for a moment to make sure it was running properly before he did so.
Three women, their arms around each others necks and their naked breasts pressed together and looking like six large melons, sat open legged on an old-fashioned multiple privy.
"No wonder I haven't seen this," she said laughing. It was a pre-war film and although the quality was good the faces seemed strangely white. Their dress was different, the suspenders broader and their drawers knickers with very wide frilled legs.
Raising their legs together as the camera moved in close, they laughed and began urinating. Unfortunately for one, she mis-aimed, the jet splashing on the wooden seat, soaking her thighs and running over the edge to form a smoking pool on the ground.
Just as suddenly as it started the film changed. It was obviously snippets that a zealous collector had managed to gather before the subjects crumbled into dust.
A woman appeared. She was handsome in a rather masculine way and was almost completely covered in tattoos, only her face and below her knees was free of them The woman spread her heavy thighs and pointed down between them. The camera moved closer covering her knees to her bushy cunt. There was just about every known obscenity there, the words being tattooed on what looked like a lavatory roll.
Again the film ended abruptly and a large lake appeared-a figure separated itself from a group of bushes at its edge. It was the Serpentine in Hyde Park and the camera was placed in front of the little statue of Peter Pan.
The figure, that of a young woman, was dressed as if she were out for an afternoon stroll. She smoothed her dress over her hips and walked toward the water. At the edge she dipped her foot, decided the water was warm enough, and began wading in. As the water rose higher up her legs her skirt floated on the surface until she looked like some gigantic water lily.
The water rose to her neck: she swum around for a minute and turned toward the bank. Stumbling at the edge she caught herself by placing one hand on the ground and stood up, the water streaming off her.
The dress was plastered tightly against her body, every article of clothing she had on underneath showing through. The dress clung to her thighs, moulding them, showing up the shape that could never be seen through a dry one.
Turning around the girl bent forward and pulled the hem of her dress between her legs until the outline of the skimpy briefs she was wearing was clearly visible. Even the narrow line of the suspenders and the rubber button at the end could be seen.
The scene changed to a deserted street. Out of the rain that splashed down a small rubber coated figure appeared followed by another, ten or twelve yards behind her. As she drew closer, they were better able to see what she was wearing. The shiny black rubber coat she wore was tightly belted and flared out a little around her knees so that the water would stream off it and not into the rubber boots she wore.
Looking at her outstretched arms, she watched the rain pouring off them, apparently oblivious to the man who was approaching her from behind. Clad also in a rubber coat and with the large collar upturned, he touched her shoulder, laughing as she jumped. They spoke for a few minutes, looking up at the sky, gray above them and then moved into a shop doorway.
Inside, she was only obscured a little from the camera by his broad shoulders. He undid the tight belt around her. She stood apparently unmoved, watching him fumble with the stiff buttons of her coat Finally the last button was undone, she slipped the coat off and carefully rolled it up. She wore some sort of rubber blouse. Now they could see quite clearly... it was a tight-fitting blouse made of black rubber; the skirt that met her knee boots was also rubber.
The man pulled apart the press studs at the front of her blouse, exposing her naked breasts.
"All this rubber," June said weakly. "I think I'm going to come in a minute."
"Move your hand up a little," he answered.
"That all right?"
His penis throbbed and now that she had found exactly the right motion, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself from coming if she did. Moving his fingers more rapidly in answer to hers, he heard her breathing quicker.
"Not too quickly," she gasped. "I want to come when he fucks her."
"Why should he?" he asked tersely.
June didn't answer but raised her hand and began rolling her stiffening nipple between sensitive practiced fingers.
The man had unzipped the skirt now and it shimmered on the ground about her feet. She was completely naked now. Slowly she bent at the knees, her hands palpating the rubber as she sank. Reaching in front of him and fumbling with the front of his coat, the man looked down as his penis sprang out, and held it apart, guiding her upraised head by placing one hand behind her neck.
"I think I'm going to come," she warned him.
There was no need for her to say so, he could feel that she was. The tremors that ran through her, and the sudden raising of her hips were clear signs that the orgasm was imminent.
Still running her hands across his rubber-clad buttocks, the girl waited open-mouthed for the penis that was approaching. Greedily her head darted forward and caught the club-shaped glans between her full lips.
"Faster, John," she begged, her eyes glazed.
In time with her sucking mouth, the girl caressed the shining rubber, pinching folds of the material and rubbing it between her trembling fingers.
"I can't stop, John... Quicker!... Quicker!"
Faster the girl's head moved, the man's hips rocking as his excitement increased.
Suddenly the man went rigid, and the girl with four or five well-spaced swallows, began draining him, her hand gathering a new fold of shining rubber.
"It's here," she babbled. "I'm coming!"
His penis seemed to balloon between her frantically jerking finger, the sperm leaping out in thick white spurts as the tide of the orgasm swelled over him.
Dimly he heard the reel clatter as the film came to the end, her voice seeming to come from a great distance.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Vanda had an infectious gaiety that soon made their spirits soar. Driving from club to club, drinking reached whenever they sat down, they quickly reached the point when it became imperative to relax. It seemed entirely right to ask her back to the hotel, and Connie seized the opportunity of doing so when she and Vanda were in the ladies' cloakroom.
When they rejoined Clem, who was half asleep in a comfortable armchair, Connie began to feel strangely guilty. Somehow it didn't seem fair to treat him so badly after he'd been so good, especially as he was the one who had approached Vanda originally.
She began to think... If she tied him up and deliberately teased him with an exhibitionistic performance by herself and Vanda, there was no reason why he shouldn't enjoy it.
"This is the place," Clem announced.
There was a basket of fruit on the table in the alcove and tastefully arranged flowers in the vase next to it.
Connie strode over to him in a business-like manner.
"Clem," she said, looking at him. "We have got to do something about you."
"I was wondering when you were going to start," he said with a pleased smile.
He was sitting on the bed eating a grape. Twisting her hand viciously in his hair and grabbing a handful, she forced his head back until he was obliged to fall back on the bed. He didn't protest, but bore the whole operation with mute stoicism, already beginning to enjoy the indignity of being ordered about.
"Raise your legs!" she said sharply.
She quickly tied his ankles together. "Now put your hands behind your back and roll over."
Burying his face in the pink eiderdown, he deliberately let the feeling of helplessness swamp over him.
Vanda caught hold of the loose end and held it tightly as Connie made one more turn around his wrists.
Over his prostrate form the two women looked at each other, both knew that the final knot was tied and that they would be completely free to express the desire they felt for each other.
Clem lay helpless, reveling in the sensation, loving every moment of it.
Vanda broke the silence by standing up and opening the zip of her skirt, exposing her silk-clad hips. Her face showed no trace of emotion as she stepped out of it.
Connie raised her hips off the chair and slid her own skirt over her knees. Her fingers fumbled nervously with her suspenders and her hands shook as she rolled her stockings down.
Vanda, impassive as ever, was removing her black bra. Her dark nippled breasts hardly moved as she bent down to remove her shoes; they were hard and firm.
Two warm hands were laid on Connie's shoulders and the light above ceased to shine into her eyes as Vanda lowered her lips toward hers.
It was so sudden that the whole action became a blur of shadows and delicate touches. The urge to touch and probe grew stronger as the pressure increased and she began caressing the fine limbs that had become entwined with hers; touching and pressing the firm flesh.
Something similar had happened to Vanda. She herself was carried away in a delicious sweep of tenderness. This was something special, a surprise that she could fully explore, knowing that the path was aching to be discovered.
Vanda stood up and pointed to the unoccupied bed. Dumbly Connie walked to it, unable to say anything. She lay down and moved over as Vanda lay beside her. Her vulva swelled, moist and waiting... waiting for the searching fingers that were gently sliding over her buttocks. She heard herself moan, surprised that the kiss had made her feel so passionate.
Clem lay helplessly watching them... and enjoying it. The room was silent except for his own harsh breathing and the moist lapping sounds that came from the bed next to him.
Through the thick clouds of desire that filled her eyes, Connie could see the moist lips of Vanda's vulva and further away the wrinkled button of her anus. The clitoris at her tongue tip seemed to twitch as she sucked it. Intuitively she lingered there, knowing that this was the spot that was causing the shudders that wracked the svelte body next to her.
Time began to drag for Clem and he found himself beginning to wish that he hadn't consented to being tied up. In an agony of suspense, he watched the two women suddenly convulse as a powerful orgasm shot through them He complained loudly, his swollen penis aching with desire, wrists sore where the tight cords cut into the flesh. In desperation, he finally lapsed into silence, trying to glean some solace from the sounds of the two writhing women; their gasping moans, soft cries and ecstatic groans muffled in the sweet-soft pubic hair.
Finally, their pleasure temporarily abated, Connie reluctantly rose from the relaxing Vanda to answer his call. She untied him, the pulsing length of his penis passing excitingly through her fingers and palms as, with a few deft caresses, she brought him soaring to a roaring climax. His seed spurted, splattering her silken thighs and belly.
She sponged herself in the bathroom and then threw herself on Vanda and they clung together in a new frenzy of lust, hands seeking to comfort, limbs entwined in embrace, mouth avidly partaking of the delicately flavored pleasure offered.
Clem sat on the floor, free now to indulge in his kink. Eyes above the level of the bed, he watched the women's twitching buttocks and dewy, open organs between widely-spread thighs.
Connie quivered deliciously as she felt Vanda's fingers pay their finest tribute to her elongated clitoris. With a swift movement, Vanda lowered her head and sank her mouth into a cesspool of joy, unable to stall off any longer the erupting ecstasy that warmly flooded her own organ; unable to hold back the triumphant cry of a woman reaching the apex of pleasure.
Connie felt Vanda pressing on her; felt the meshing of limbs become an unbearable delight, as moist, silky flesh slithered over her joy-pricked skin; her fingers were bathed in a generous flow of juices from Vanda's hot, swollen cunt.
Suddenly, she stiffened, head thrown back, hips thrusting forward in anticipation. With a yell, she collapsed across the already satiated Vanda; quivering, she fell into an orgiastic stupor, caught in a whirlpool of shattering sensation.
Quickly, hardly knowing what she was doing, Vanda, as the powerful orgasm washed over her, turned Connie on to her stomach, spread her soft buttocks and then straddled her back. Then, as she jerked her hips, working her vulva against the smooth skin of Connie's back, she stabbed stiff fingers into her lax anus, reaming around inside the tight passage.
Even though his orgasm had abated, Clem was in transports at the delicious sight. This was the life! This was for him! Connie could give him what he wanted, and, with the penchant she had for her own sex as well as for men, what delightful and varied exhibitions she could put on for him as a piece de resistance to her usual indulgence of his masochistic urges.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Morning sunlight streamed into the room and fell across the bed, clothing the nakedness of male and female with tender warmth. The clothes were pulled down to the foot of the bed and June lay on her stomach close up to John; she wriggled as the sun's rays beat on her undulating buttocks. She opened her eyes and blinked round at John lying beside her; her eyes travelled down his body and saw his penis, semi-stiff even in sleep. The sight of it and the heat of the sun on her bare skin seemed to give her vigor, sharpening her sleep-addled brain. She turned her body, swivelling on her buttocks, and lowered her head, her open mouth hovering over the unsuspecting penis. Running her tongue over her lips to moisten them, she slowly approached the object of her desire.
John moaned softly as June's mouth brushed lightly along the length of his cock. She waited a moment, then lifted it, her fingers gently pulling back the foreskin, baring the dull red helmet. She touched it to her lips, which parted as though in answer to a knock, then her head lowered again as she accepted half the fleshy shaft into the warm, moist cavity of her mouth, soft lips closing around it. Her cheeks hollowed slightly as she gave it a gentle suck, feeling at once its jerk into life. She ran her tongue round the edge of the glans and he stirred, his hips automatically lifting toward her face, stuffing more of the rapidly-stiffening prick into the welcoming confines of her wet mouth. She sucked on him more deeply, tongue becoming more searching, head slowly moving up and down.
Moments later, she had the penis hard and throbbing in her mouth, fully aware, now, of what was going on. So, also, was its owner, for two hands had moved down to clasp her moving head. The night's weaknesses had vanished in the dawning of a new day's passion.
She crammed as much of his penis as she could into her mouth and moved her bottom round, spreading her knees as she knelt by him, giving him easy access to her bushy quim, her back arching as she felt his fingers slip between her thighs.
As she sucked, he began a gentle fondling of her sex, stopping now and then with a gasp, as her tongue found a particularly sensitive spot. These dilatory caresses began to faintly annoy her; she wanted frenzied activity over her excited cunt, to rekindle the fires of orgasm, to experience again-for how many times since last night?-the shuddering ecstasy to which she reacted like a drug-addict reacts to dope, always craving for more.
She waggled her shapely behind urgently. "Oh, John," she thought, "please don't piddle with me like that when I want to come so desperately." She pressed against him, sucking harder.
Moisture gathered at the base of his prick as her mouth worked and her fingers groped and fondled. She lifted her head and watched the bead of pre-intercourse saliva form at the tip of the glans. She bent and her tongue appeared, delicately licking off the dew-drop.
"I love sucking you," she whispered, savoring the words, eyes hot with passion. She looked at the throbbing cock between her fingers. "Sucking you off and feeling your warm spunk spurt into my mouth... "
"Keep sucking!" he ordered fiercely, spasms of bliss beginning to creep up on him.
Her head bent once more, cheeks hollowing, as she moved her head up and down in the oldest rhythm known to uninhibited lovers. She moved her lower body round to an even more intimately accessible position for him, her thighs splayed wide, the hairy mass surmounting her cunt almost resting on his chin. He pulled his head back for a better view of her delightfully rounded buttocks, quivering, as he fingered the mushy interior of her vagina.
The delicious manipulation sent a shiver of joy surging up to her mouth and he was rewarded with a frantic tonguing of his sensitized glans, as she made an avidly determined effort to force his climax. The suction of her mouth became so strong that he seriously considered stopping her in case his testicles might be drawn out through the eye of his prick!
She changed position again, lifting one elegant leg to straddle his chest and lower her longing cunt to his mouth. Her breasts rested lightly on his stomach and she sucked with renewed vigor. He could feel her turgid nipples sending hot, thrilling little prickles through his belly as they rubbed gently against it with her movements. Her sucking mouth was driving him insane, now, and he knew that his sperm would soon be spurting down her eager throat. His mouth closed over her soaking cunt, tongue probing into the wet, velvety flesh.
She squirmed under the sensation; this was heavenly, and she realized that within a matter of seconds she would be giving him her intimate saliva of love, her soaking body shaking with lust as he sucked it from her. But, quite suddenly, she felt a lack of something; she wanted to make this extra special for both of them-she wanted to make every love-bout they had together extra special now. Connie and Clem would be returning from Paris on Friday and this was Thursday. One more day and then she feared she would be back in the old, frustrated routine of married life with Clem. She must put everything she had into this one day!
Clem refused to do anything about her sexual likes and dislikes, all he would do for her was suck her off, so she decided that while she had John, she would choose other ways to achieve orgasm than through the mouth and tongue.
She quickly lifted her head and pulled her rear away from John's clutching hands. Avoiding his grab for her, she climbed from the bed.
"June, what... ?"
"Don't worry, darling-I'm not running away. It's just that I've remembered Clem's letter; do you realize that they'll be back tomorrow? This has all been so wonderful, it seems as if they only left yesterday. Now I want everything we do together today and tonight to be very special-you see, I... I somehow feel that... that this... this day will be... be... " She felt her throat tighten, strangling the words, and she turned away quickly so that he wouldn't see the tears glistening in her eyes. She had been going to say that she felt this would be their last day together and the dreams they had when Connie and Clem went to Paris, leaving them to indulge their passions, were, after all ONLY dreams which would face on their awakening the next morning.
John watched her speculatively as she moved across the room, and his heart-beat quickened when she returned from the cupboard carrying the whip! Her eyes were on his face, watchful for his reaction.
"Remember when you first whipped me, John? I want to be reminded of it again; I want the reminder to last after Clem gets back-even if it's only a few pink stripes. The last time you did it the 'reminder' lasted me a few days. Whip me again, darling-please? Then we'll have such a tremendous orgasm together afterward. I'll make it so wonderful for you, dear."
John felt his cock begin to throb again as she held the whip out toward him; he looked at her beautiful body, her heavily swaying breasts and tense face, eyes pleading.
Sitting up, he took the whip from her and slid from the bed.
"How do you want me this time, darling?" she asked quietly, "on the bed, bottoms up?"
He looked around the room; there were two slim, ornate pillars from floor to ceiling, just in front and to either side of the window. He indicated one of them.
"Wrap your arms round the right hand one."
She walked over to the post and threw her arms around it, pressing her body tightly against the carved wooden surface and closing her eyes.
He began to lash her, then, the first blow falling across her bottom, sticking out prominently, a red line leaping up immediately from the whiteness. She jerked and a small scream was forced from her. He gave her the second stroke, crossing the first; her face contorted with pain and her buttocks jerked madly backward and forward, but she made no attempt to escape from the post.
"Ah-ah-John, darling... ooh... my... my backside... it it's on fire. Aargh! Oh, my love... you're killing me! The -p-pain is awful."
She was writhing against the post now, a film of sweat covering her body; but still she clung to it, taking each stroke as it fell, without trying to evade any part of the punishment.
He watched her lovely naked body jerk again as he brought the whip whistling down across the pink-striped bottom, making it sting, but not enough to break the skin. His penis was almost at bursting point as he tapered off the beating with a few lighter strokes across the backs of her thighs. As before, her screams of pain had already changed to groans and cries of lust, entreating him to flog her harder.
"Go on, darling! Flog me! Ooh, I'm... I'm going to come very s-soon... whip! Whip! Oh, my cunt is burning up... and my bum... my bum is on fire! Whip it. Oh... oh, darling... I love you... whip me!"
She was jerking and writhing madly, her arms still wrapped round the pillar. She pressed closer to it, her thighs opening and then closing round it, holding it tightly between them. As he delivered the final strokes she began to work her hips powerfully and he could see she was masturbating her clitoris against the wood. She looked at him, her eyes wild, breath rasping.
"Come, darling... don't waste it... I can see your poor cock is almost boiling over. Come and put it in me, dearest... quickly! Put it in my bottom... spend into me there."
She held up her masturbatory movements to thrust her buttocks out at him in invitation. "Pull the cheeks open and put it in-but be quick, before we both come!"
He dropped the whip and went over to her. Pulling open the cheeks of her beautiful behind, he jammed the head of his rock-hard penis against her hot, crinkled anus. The force of the thrust overcame the defence of the sphincter muscles and his throbbing shaft penetrated several inches into the moist heat of her rectum. She gave a little cry of pleasure-pain as her tight passage was forced to accept the invader, but kept her bottom thrust out for further penetration. Grasping her firmly round the hips, he gave another hefty thrust, sinking the whole length of his penis into her, until his loins were pressing hard against the scalding heat of her whipped buttocks.
With the plunging prick in her backside and the frantic rubbing of her clitoris, plus the searing heat of the whipping she had endured, it was only a matter of seconds to bring June to the point of orgasm.
"Darling," she gasped, "I'm going... I... I'm going to come! Do it with me-have your come in my bottom. Oh, fuck... fuck... my bum! My whipped bum!"
The passion roused in him from whipping her and maddening dilations of the muscles of her rectum on his penis, were beyond endurance.
They both yelled as they hit their climax at almost the same instant. His prick seemed to expand inside her bottom, a hot jet of spunk shot high into her bowels as he jammed himself hard against her, crushing the harsh hairs of his pube into her whipped buttocks. She whimpered, then her breath was coming in short, explosive gasps as the shock-waves of orgasm tore through her squirming body, her buttocks impaled on the massive penis, her clitoris jammed hard against the pillar.
Locked thus, they jerked out their wracking orgasm together, gradually weakening until he staggered back from her, prick flopping limply out of her backside, having filled her bowels with his hot sperm. She clutched at the post, gradually sliding down it, the slimy sperm oozing out of her anus and running sluggishly down the insides of her thighs.
"Oh, darling. Whew! That was really something!" She touched her bottom gingerly. "Ouch! Cruel thing -you did hurt me! It was worth it, though."
"I didn't whip you as hard as I did before, my sweet."
"Did you enjoy it?"
"I guess I did. Did you?"
"Of course. Did you have a lovely pome in my bottom? Did I please you?"
"You always please me." He took her in his arms and kissed her. "And I had a wonderful come in your bottom. Now let's have some breakfast, huh?"
They had just soaked themselves in a bath, easing a lot of the hurt from June's ill-used rear, and were ready for food.
After breakfast they swam and sun-bathed until lunch-time, then, when they had eaten, she in her swimming suit and he in his trunks, they went up to the bedroom to change.
She stripped off her suit quickly and waited while he pulled off his trunks. Then she went to him and pressed herself close, her large, pear-shaped breasts flattening against his chest.
"Darling," she whispered, "I want you to make love to me for the rest of the day and most of the night!"
"Steady on, baby-I can't keep on spending the same as you can, you know. A man has to take it easy for a while after each tussle, to-er-well, re-coup his losses, so to speak. Otherwise, the only thing I'd be able to pump into you would be air! And even then, you'd have to lash the old cock to a toothpick to keep its head up."
"I know all about that, my love. Don't worry-I know I can go on spending indefinitely; all I want you to do is love me and let me indulge a little in the things I can't have when Clem is here. Then every time you want to fuck me or come in some way, just say the word and I'll do, or let you do to me, whatever you want. Is it a deal?"
"It's a deal," he laughed, cupping her breasts in his hands and giving them a squeeze. "What's to be first on the program?"
"Well, first of all, I'm getting rid of servants for the rest of the day-we'll be able to run naked through the house. Will you like that, darling? I thought you would, somehow! Next-I'd rather like to try on some of my rubber undies, and then-oh-we'll decide on that when we come to it."
It was a perfect day from both their points of view: June, although she indulged in all her pet sexual fancies, always catered for John's needs whenever they arose.
First came the rubber garments. These were carefully unpacked and chosen. John watched her flashing eyes and quickened breathing as she touched them, rubbing them over her bare body and pushing them in between her thighs; rubber really did something to her.
He helped her get rubber panties and bra on, followed by rubber skirt and thin rubber blouse. After moving about in them for a while, she asked him to undress her slowly down to the panties, then masturbate her over the rubber.
Another caprice was to be tied firmly to one of the pillars in the bedroom, her back to it and arms fastened above her head. With her feet strapped to either side of it, her legs were far apart enough for him to have free access to her sex organ.
"Now masturbate me, dear. Frig my cunt until I spend on to your fingers."
Her body stretched taut against the post, he frigged her until she came, moaning, on to his hand.
It was when she danced naked in front of him, an erotic, Eastern-type of belly dance, to the accompaniment of music from a record that consisted almost entirely of tom-tom drums, that he really got a colossal hard on. As she twisted slowly and provocatively in front of him, he looked at the still faintly-striped buttocks, the wide, jerking hips and swaying, bouncing breasts.
Leaping to his feet, he grabbed her, turned her round and kissed her mouth. She laughed against his lips.
"I had an idea that would do something for you. Sexy, isn't it? I went to a school that catered for all nationalities; a Turkish girl taught me that one."
June rubbed her breasts across his chest and then pushed her hips forward, her mouth forming a silent O when she felt the hard rod poking into her thigh.
"Come on, then, darling."
She drew him to the bed, falling back on to it and spreading her legs.
He fell on top of her and her hand went down to take his penis and guide it to her soft, wet haven. She wriggled down a little until her bottom was on the edge of the bed, then she thrust her hips up sharply as he bore down on her. She gasped with sensation as he rammed himself up her, the walls of her vagina gripping the welcome prick, seeming to suck it further in.
"Oh, darling, that's lovely! Fuck me, now, and have a lovely come in your June." Her hips bucked to meet him and he was fucking her wildly, the writhing of her resilient body spurring him to even greater efforts.
Her legs lifted and locked over his back as he drove in and out of her, the force of each lunge driving her breath from her in moaning gasps. In a very short time she felt his movements becoming ragged and at the same time the tell-tale throb of his penis within her.
"Darling, you're going to come! I-I can feel your great rod up me-how it throbs. Oooh! Fuck me! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck me." The spasms started in her own belly, then; she heaved up at him, "DARLING I'm-I'm going to come with you! Now, darling... do it now! NOW! AH! AH! AH"
His spendings poured into her, to be met by her own hot offering. She kept moving against him until she felt the slackening of his penis and knew she had extracted every available drop he had.
So their day went on, each bringing the other to new heights of erotic sensation, ending by June kneeling up on the table after supper, crockery pushed to one side. Arching her back, she pushed her bottom out and spread her legs wide.
This had been brought about by her producing an album of photographs, all of women presenting their bottoms to the camera in numerous postures and of varying shapes and sizes. Sitting on his lap, naked, while she showed them to him, she had felt the almost instant rise of his prick. She had hurriedly leafed through the rest of the album and proceeded to position herself in her present posture.
"There you are, John, dear-now give me a good bum-fuck. That's what you want, isn't it?"
Without answering, his eyes glued to her delicious bottom, presented so temptingly, he stood behind her, running his palms over the silken smoothness of her tautened buttocks. Then, by standing on his toes, he found his knob was aimed at her arse dead center. He spread the cheeks and made a close examination of the dainty, crinkled little rosette of her anus. Bending, he kissed it lightly, then licked it, transferring saliva; he pushed his tongue in a little way, bringing murmurs of pleasure from June.
Straightening, he pressed the tip of his penis to her bottom hole for a second time that day. As he grasped her hips and pushed his pelvis forward, he felt her bearing back at him to help the entrance. She gave a little gasp as the glans popped just inside, and spread her legs wider, crouching lower to rest her upper body on her forearms.
He had to stop all movement for a few moments when his cock was all the way up to her to stop himself from coming immediately, as he felt the maddening grip of her heated rectum. She knelt quite still for him, knowing what was the matter.
Soon, he had a grip on himself and started the bottom-fuck rhythm in earnest. Each time he bumped fully and tightly against her, he could feel his hairs cutting into the delicate tissue between her buttocks, digging into the valley where the fragile odor of previous lust echoed up to him.
The command he held on his muscles was slipping quickly away with each deep plunge, especially when he looked down and watched his own flesh sliding in and out of the tight-gripping furnace.
June was moaning again, and pushing herself back against his hips each time she felt him sliding forward within her tight confines. The pleasure for her was good again, as it always was, and she could feel the pinpricks of sensation start running through her pelvis, signaling the onrush of orgasm.
"Harder, darling," she cried, pushing against him with all her force and holding herself against his hips, grinding from side to side. "Oh, fuck! I'm almost there... come with me, John. Oh, come... now, darling, now!"
And she held still again, grinding against him, and he pushed at her with all his strength, filling her more than ever before, and loosed the flow of hot pellets that jetted through her bowels and seemed to mix and flow with her own release.
"Always, John," she whispered, "in me like this... I'll never let you pull that beautiful thing out of me... "
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"Well, here it is I'm afraid," June handed him the telegram unopened.
Taking it, he tore the envelope open and read the message, nodding his head gloomily. "Arriving around ten-thirty. Put a magnum of champagne on ice. See you-Clem."
"Oh, darling," she moved into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. "So this is it." She looked at her watch. "They'll be here in two hours. Let's go up and have a cuddle on the bed, eh?"
They lay naked in each other's arms, strangely, neither of them showing any inclination to fuck. Instead, they talked.
"Even if Clem were prepared to let me go, we mustn't forget Connie-I know she's very fond of you and I also know you well enough to be sure you wouldn't ditch her."
"I don't know what I'd do right now. Let's talk about something else."
All too soon, the two hours were nearly up and June rushed downstairs to cool a bottle of champagne as quickly as possible.
Watching from one of the windows, they saw the car pull up in the drive and Clem emerge-on his own! June and John looked blankly at each other for a moment then went to meet Clem.
After the usual greetings, Clem stood looking a little uncomfortable for a moment, then brightened somewhat.
"Where's the champagne?"
June fetched it with glasses; Clem popped the cork and poured. As they raised their glasses June looked at Clem: "Are we supposed to be drinking to something? And by the way-where's Connie?"
"Well, that's what I was coming to-I thought a drink first might help."
"Nothing's happened to her, has there?"
"Oh, no-She's fine. Er-she's still in Paris."
"Oh?" June stared at her husband, waiting for him to go on.
Clem shrugged his shoulders, fiddled in his pocket and brought out cigarettes, offering them round, lit them and then sat down, deep in thought and obviously playing for time.
"Oh, come on, Clem, for goodness' sake-what's on your mind? We're going mad with suspense!"
"I suppose it's best to come right to the point: June, for a long time now, you must have realized that, sexually, we don't match. Right?"
"Maybe I'd better go and see to the horses," muttered John, backing off.
Clem chuckled. "You watch too many Westerns! No, John, don't go-this concerns you, as well."
Then June and John sat listening in silence and growing amazement as Clem talked. The listeners could hardly believe the words they were hearing, they had so often thought them in their own minds. As Clem continued, John moved closer and closer to June, his arm around her shoulder, pulling her tightly against him.
"I found something I thought I'd never have, with Connie, "Clem was saying. "In fact, something I didn't even know I wanted. But she tends to all my needs, even before I know I need them, and she keeps me with a hard-on all the time." He chuckled at that, as if from some secret joke.
"I always tried to please you, darling, "June said.
"Of course, of course, "Clem said. "But I've changed, June. Changed so much that I can never go back to the selfish existence we had together. No, I know now that only Connie, with her depraved tastes, can keep me content."
"But what about me?" John asked, his hand now under June's arm and cupping around her breast.
"What about you?" Clem repeated. "I don't understand. There is money enough for all of us, the four of us, to last us well beyond the end of our lives. I do propose that we share it equally, I would have thought that was obvious."
"The four of us?" June's heart was beating rapidly with happiness.
"Yes, my dear," Clem said. "Connie is preparing some especially nice torture for me at the moment, and I must hurry back to her. But I had to come and make sure that there is no misunderstanding. Connie belongs to me, and I to her, forever... "
"And June is for me... " John said.
"John!" June threw herself into his arms, crushing her lips against his in their first real kiss. They hardly heard Clem chuckle to himself and walk out.
Finally June pulled free of John's arms and let her hand trail delicately over his trousers where his hard flesh strove insistently for freedom. Then she noticed that Clem had left, leaving the door wide open.
"He was in a hurry," she said, rising from the couch and walking forward slightly.
John stood up with her, his pants bulging wickedly, and started walking close behind her, humming an old song from the Fred Astair-Ginger Rogers days. What was it now? "Must you dance quite so close, with your lips touching his face?" His arm went round June's shoulders as she closed the door. He sang the first few bars softly again.
"Then it goes 'dah-dah-dee-da-dah-da-dah-da-dee' I know the last bit goes: 'And dance with me,' but what's the bit before that?"
