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Freebie - 1
by Lord John Thomas (lord_john_thomas@hotmail.com)

***

The story of how my husbands petty pilfering, led to my 
downfall. (MMF, wife-reluc, prost)

***

All of my stories include descriptions of sex scenes 
that could cause offence to some people. Please do not 
read this story if you are offended by perverse sexual 
material, or if you are under the legal age of consent 
for your own country. These stories are pure fiction 
and are not based on anyone living or deceased.

***

PART 1

"4, 3, 6, 5, 8, 7..."

After giving my number I paused to listen to who was 
calling.

"Hello, this is Mr. Spencer."

"Mr. Spencer? Do I know you?"

"I'm assuming I'm speaking to Mrs. Kendal?"

"Yes, I'm Mrs. Kendal. But I'm afraid I don't know any 
Mr. Spencer."

"Your husband works at D F H distribution? Well I'm his 
boss."

"Oh yes. I'm sorry, the name never clicked. Oh my god! 
Has something happened to Gerry?"

"Well in a manner of speaking, yes."

"Oh no. Is he alright?"

"Yes, he hasn't had an accident or anything, but I have 
to talk to you about him."

"Why what's happened?"

"It's too complicated to talk on the phone, I was just 
ringing to make sure you'd be in if I called around to 
see you."

"Well yes, when will you be coming?"

"Right away if that's ok, I can be with you in thirty 
minutes."

"Ok I'll be waiting."

With that I put the phone down and began to worry. If 
Gerry hadn't had an accident, then what else could be 
wrong? Then I thought about Gerry's 'perks of the job'. 
You see Gerry works in a distribution warehouse, and 
the products they store vary widely. And if a large 
pallet of, for instance, washing-up liquid slipped from 
a forklift whilst being loaded, then the whole pallet 
would be written-off as damaged, and should then end-up 
in the waste bins. But obviously, only a few of the 
bottles would actually be damaged, so it was common 
practice for the warehouse lads to share out the 
undamaged boxes, as freebies. This was what Gerry 
called 'the perks of the job'. Now I know this is not 
strictly legal, but we never considered it stealing. 
But as I rushed around tiding-up before his boss 
arrived, I racked my brain to think what else he could 
be coming to talk to me about. And why me? Why wouldn't 
he just be hauling Gerry over the coals?

As I was busy putting things into one of my kitchen 
cupboards, it struck me just how petty these so called 
perks of Gerry's were. The top of this cupboard I'd 
opened was stacked full of bottles of vinegar. I'd 
given away bottles to various relatives, all of my 
neighbourhood friends, and even though Gerry is only 
24, and I'm only 25, we'd still got enough bottles to 
last for the rest of our natural lives. That was the 
trouble with all his freebies, they were of little 
value, and always came in large quantities. So I'm busy 
trying to work out what this man will want to talk 
about, when I hear the knocker on the front door.

"KNOCK, KNOCK. KNOCK, KNOCK. KNOCK, KNOCK."

The sudden noise makes me jump, and then after a quick 
look in the mirror, I dash down the hall and open the 
door.

"Hello. I'm Graham. Mr. Spencer. We spoke a few minutes 
ago on the phone."

"Yes, yes. Err. What is it? What's happened?"

"Well I was hoping we could talk inside."

I backed away from the door, and as I did I ushered him 
into the hall with my open palmed hand.

"Oh I'm sorry. Come on in. We can sit in the lounge, 
it's the first door."

He walked past me into our hall, and then turned into 
the lounge; I followed and entered behind him.

He had made his way across to the sofa, but was stood 
in front of it as if ready to sit down.

"Yes sit there if you want."

I sat opposite him in the chair nearest the TV. As we 
both sat down, we both were about to talk at the same 
time, but we both stopped. Then I said, "No, you go 
first."

"Well Mary. Oh, I hope it's alright me using your first 
name."

I had no idea how he knew my name, but I wasn't about 
to get on the wrong side of him by objecting.

"No, of course not."

"Ok then. As I was about to say, I've got a bit of a 
problem."

"What kind of problem?"

"Well just recently, I visited my sister; she lives 
just in the next street to you. Tudor Road."

I nodded but didn't make any comment.

"And she was talking with her neighbour, a Mrs. Harris. 
Thelma; I think is her first name. Maybe you know her?"

Yes. But although I know her, and she's one of my 
closest friends. Gerry and I often go to the pub with 
her and her husband Frank. But I didn't want to admit 
too much to this man.

"I think I know who you mean."

"Well she was telling my sister all about her friend 
whose husband gets all kind of knocked-off stuff from 
work. And being as the wastage; that's what we call any 
goods at work that get damaged or stolen. Yes, being as 
the wastage levels for this last six months has risen 
by seventy percent; I was interested in what she was 
saying. So later when she'd gone, I asked my sister to 
surreptitiously find out who this Robin Hood character 
was."

He paused, as if waiting for me to say something, but I 
kept silent.

"I thought maybe you'd have guessed his name, he lives 
in this street."

Again He paused, waiting for me, but again I kept 
silent.

"I see the cats got your tongue."

"Well this so called good Samaritan is called Gerry 
Kendal. So you see Mary, I thought maybe it would be a 
good idea to watch your Gerry a little closer. I've got 
CCTV cameras all around the warehouse, but most weren't 
working and those that are; nobody ever looks at the 
hours of stuff they record. But last weekend I had all 
the cameras brought back into a working condition, and 
today I spent the day sitting watching your husband as 
he went about his job. Now what do you think I saw?"

"I-I don't know?"

"Do you like yoghurt?"

"Yoghurt?"

"Yes. Strawberry yoghurt."

"Why?"

"Well I've got a premonition that when Gerry gets home 
you'll be getting a box of 120 Strawberry yoghurts. So 
I hope you like them."

It was obvious he had got Gerry, as they say, 'bang to 
rights' or 'caught red handed'. So I thought maybe I 
could put in some kind of mitigating plea on his 
behalf.

"But please Mr. Spencer. It would all have just been 
thrown in the waste bins. It can't do any harm us using 
them up. You know with all this talk of re-cycling and 
not wasting food, you could even say he's doing his bit 
to save the planet."

He took a small pen like object from his pocket, "I 
assume you have a computer?"

"Yes it's in the other room."

"Do you think we could take a look at this video I've 
recorded?"

We went into the back room and I turned on the PC. I 
know it always feels like forever waiting for a PC to 
boot, but sitting here, with him holding what I now 
could see was a memory stick; one I assumed with 
incriminating evidence, it was like my life force was 
ebbing from my body. Then as the windows screen 
appeared, he said,

"Do you mind if I take over?"

I didn't answer, I just moved to one side allowing him 
to sit in front of the PC. 

He plugged in his memory stick and in seconds the video 
was showing a fork lift driving down an isle in between 
tall stacks of pallets. He kept moving the slider bar 
until we got to a place where the fork truck driver 
turned around, obviously checking in every direction to 
make sure he wasn't being watched, and then he drove 
slowly backwards, getting ever closer to a steel girder 
that protruded from the floor and reached up to support 
the roof. 

As the edge of the pallet made contact with the 
stanchion, he slowly reversed until the pallet was 
dragged off the forks, and overbalanced. It slipped off 
as if in slow motion, and as it hit the floor, the 
boxes stacked on it slipped. Then the other side of the 
pallet dropped back to the floor, almost shaking the 
boxes back to their original position.

The driver then jumped down, and with a long steel bar 
from the back of his truck, he ripped open the banding 
holding the boxes, and pushed one of the boxes to the 
floor where it burst open. Then as he went back to the 
truck and began to fill in some paperwork, Graham said,

"I hardly think damaging a box of yogurts is going to 
help save the planet."

The video was so clear my Gerry was instantly 
recognisable, and there was no way anyone looking at 
this video could call this accidental damage. But I 
didn't reply, I just stood alongside him at a loss for 
words.

"Well my dear, nothing to say?"

"I-I I'm sorry. I never realised. He just said it was a 
sin to see the stuff thrown away into the bins."

"Well now you know how it's damaged, what's your 
opinion now?"

"I I'll tell him as soon as he gets home."

"Tell him what?"

"I don't want him to bring anymore things home. And 
that it's not right to damage stuff deliberately."

"I think this is a little bit more serious than that. 
First its malicious damage; and I'm thinking if I check 
back on the recorded files from the other cameras over 
the last six months, I'll find a lots more occurrences. 
Second it's stealing, and not just the one box; I'll 
bet over the last few months my car park cameras will 
have caught him loading his car plenty of times. Then 
there is fraud, filling in the insurance records as 
accidental damage. Fraud of that sort carries a prison 
sentence. And lastly, if that pallet had jammed onto 
the forks, he could have bent the girder; and that 
would have brought the whole roof down. Now that's a 
health and safety issue, and these days, they'd lock 
him up and throw away the key for that."

"Oh my god! But what can I do to help?"

"First, tell me, has your Gerry got a garden shed or 
workshop?"

"He's got a shed, but he hasn't got any of the stuff 
he's brought home out there. For one thing it lets in 
water, and anyway it's only just big enough for the 
barbeque, lawn mower and his tools."

"I wasn't thinking about where he's stashed his ill-
gotten gains, I was wondering if that could be where 
he'd hang the free calendar I give to each of my staff 
at Christmas?"

"Do you mean the one with views of the Lake district?"

"Well that wasn't the one I was referring to, but now 
you've mentioned it. What did you think of the 
pictures?"

"Ok, I guess. But I'm not much into mountains and 
lakes."

"I was meaning more the camera work. Did it look 
professional?"

"I guess so, why?"

"I took those photos myself, it's my hobby. But I was 
actually wondering if you'd seen the other calendar?"

As I realised which calendar he was talking about, I 
felt my cheeks get hot as I blushed bright red. Not 
that I had any reason to feel embarrassed, I wasn't one 
of the scantily clad models displayed in the calendar 
he was referring to. But before I replied to his 
question, he said,

"I guess by your response, you've at least seen it?"

"Yes."

"It wasn't that bad, was it?"

"Well from what I can remember, the girls' weren't 
leaving much to the imagination."

"Do you know where your husband has put his?"

"Yes, it's hanging on the back of the door in his hobby 
room upstairs."

"So I can take it from your reaction that you didn't 
think much of my camera work? I thought I'd struck the 
right balance; keeping it sexy, but not being too 
crude."

So from this I gathered this was another example of his 
handiwork, and not wanting to get on his wrong side, I 
didn't want to criticize what he actually seemed quite 
proud off.

"I didn't mean it was crude, but looking at girls is 
even less appealing to me than mountains and lakes."

"But I guess you're wondering what my obsession with 
photography has got to do with the predicament your 
Gerry has got himself into?"

In truth, I was beginning to think that he was maybe 
going to try to blackmail me into posing in skimpy 
underwear, like the models in his calendar, but not 
wanting to put unwanted ideas into his head, I just 
answered,

"Well yes, I was looking for some kind of connection 
between his foolishness, and your generosity in giving 
out free calendars."

"Well it's like this; I've got an idea for next year's 
workshop calendar. That's what I call the girlie 
version, cos it normally gets hung up in garages or 
workshops. I was thinking of a masquerade. You know, 
the girls faces concealed behind those masks on sticks 
like at the high class balls."

I didn't comment, but just nodded to show I understood 
what he was talking about.

"And then last week I saw your Gerry showing his 
holiday snaps to one of the lads, and the chap he was 
showing them to, passed them to me. Not that I was too 
interested in most of them. But there were about three 
of four with you in a bikini. And I have to say they 
got me to thinking."

Again I said nothing, but by now his intentions were 
getting pretty obvious.

There was a silence for a few seconds, and then he 
asked,

"Well, what do you think?"

But still trying to play the innocent I answered, 
"About what?"

"Well I thought you'd be a bit brighter than that."

"What do you mean?"

"Ok, it's your loss. If you think I'm going to make a 
proposal you can take to the police, then you must take 
me for a fool. I've given you a lifeline, and if you're 
too dumb to take hold, then you'll just have to suffer 
the consequences. I'll wish you goodbye."

With that he got to his feet, and I realised if I let 
him leave with things as they stand, my Gerry could 
soon be in real trouble.

"Please Mr. Spencer, don't go. I-I didn't mean to annoy 
you."

He didn't re-seat himself, but just stood there and 
said, "Well?"

"I-I'm not sure what you are asking?"

"Young lady. Can't you understand? I'm not asking 
anything. It's your husband who is in trouble. And I've 
told you about my hobby, and about a calendar I'm about 
to start shooting for next year. Maybe I didn't make 
myself clear, but when I said seeing your photos gave 
me an idea, what I meant, was you have a body every bit 
as good as any of the models I'm about to hire. Now if 
you felt like making me some kind of offer, then I 
think you'll find I'm not an unreasonable man. Even 
though your husband has been swindling me."

"Are you saying if I was to agree to model for you, you 
wouldn't report my Gerry to the police?"

"I haven't asked you to model for me, so it's not a 
case of you agreeing to anything. If I did ask, that 
would be bribery. But if you want to offer to model, 
then that's your prerogative. And as I've said, I'm a 
reasonable man, and the last thing I'd want to see is a 
generous young lady being dragged down by a foolish 
mistake made by her husband."

I thought for a minute or so, but I could see he was 
getting restless, and I sensed he was about to speak. 
Fearing he was again going to threaten to leave, I 
said,

"I'll model for you on condition its just swimwear. I 
won't do topless or underwear."

"Right my dear, what are you saying, you'd like me to 
consider you for a modelling job in my next calendar?"

"I-I guess so. But like I said; nothing as revealing as 
that other calendar."

"I don't know what you take me for. But I can assure 
you, all the girls who model for me are free to accept 
or reject any of the costumes I select. Or for that 
matter, if they don't feel comfortable with any pose I 
ask for, then it's always the model who has the final 
say."

"I I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply there was anything 
dirty going on. But I just don't want you to think I'm 
agreeing to pose nude or anything."

"Let's forget this topic, if you want to pose for me, 
then there will be nobody forcing you to do anything 
you're not happy with. Now to the details, have you 
anything planned for tomorrow?"

"I don't think so."

"I need a yes or no. If I'm going to arrange a makeover 
team, then it can't be just a 'don't think so'."

"Well no, I have nothing planned at the moment."

"Well you do now. There'll be a car here at nine in the 
morning, and you'll be at my place by nine-thirty. The 
makeup team should have you sorted by eleven-thirty, 
and by twelve we can start shooting. That'll give me a 
good three hours. And you can be back here by four, 
ready to make hubbies tea. So is that settled?"

"I guess so. But what am I going to tell Gerry?"

"Nothing. Just let him go off to work as normal, and 
he'll never know a thing about it."

"But what about him? What if he does the same thing 
again, and damages any more stuff?"

"I don't think he will; I've told the warehouse 
supervisor to give all the lads a talking to, and let 
them know all the cameras are now back in action. I 
can't think he'll be silly enough to do it again."

So with that he went on his way, and I began to wonder 
just what kind of situation I'd got myself into.

Gerry arrived home from work as normal, and as Graham 
had predicted, he had a box of Strawberry yoghurts. I 
was bursting to say something to him about this stupid 
habit, but knew it would only make the whole thing more 
complicated, and wouldn't really solve anything. So the 
night passed without incident, and the next day after 
Gerry had gone off to work, I began to get myself ready 
for the car that was to collect me. If I tell you I was 
on edge and having second thoughts, then I'm sure you 
won't be surprised.

But at the stroke of nine a car arrived, and in I got. 
In less than thirty minutes I was being shown into a 
magnificent studio in the back of a very large country 
house. This was the kind of house you'd expect a Lord 
of the Manor to own, built inside a walled estate, with 
its own big iron gates at the end of the long drive. 
But once inside the studio, I was shown into a room 
which was obviously designed for the purpose; equipped 
with everything the team of three beauticians required. 
For the next two hours all three of them worked on 
every inch of my body, and when I emerged at around 
eleven-thirty, even I had difficulty believing the 
stunning girl in the mirror was actually me.

It was then that Graham appeared, and he escorted me 
into a changing room, where there were at least five 
racks of clothes. Ranging from full ball gowns, to 
jeans. With every other kind of garment with the 
exception of outdoor gear such as coats etc. I at this 
point only had on a dressing gown, and was completely 
naked underneath. He showed me along the racks 
explaining all of these clothes had been selected 
especially for me, and they should all be my size. 

Where there was a dress, along with it I would find the 
appropriate underwear that I was expected to wear. I 
would be expected to start at the first rack, and work 
my way along from one outfit to the next. But as we 
moved on to the final rack, the clothes had progressed 
onto first swimwear, and then from about half way along 
the rack I could see there were panties and bras, but 
no dresses, or skirts and blouses to go with them.

I stopped and said, "You won't be expecting me to model 
these without wearing a dress on?"

"Not if you don't want to. But let's just start with 
the others, and if you still feel uneasy about 
modelling in underwear, then nobodies going to force 
you."

"Ok. But I don't understand, I thought you only wanted 
me to model swimwear, and that my face would be 
covered. I can't model any of this stuff if you're 
going to put it in a calendar, I can't have my face 
recognised."

"Today is nothing to do with the calendar, this is just 
to get you used to being in the bright lights, and 
letting you get acclimatised to the whole situation. 
When I shoot the calendar shots, I want you to feel 
totally at ease."

"What so I've got to come back again?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"I guess not."

"Ok, I'll be out on the set; I'll send one of the girls 
in to help you dress. Then when you're ready, just come 
on out."

The day went by with me in some kind of daze, and far 
from being sordid or sleazy, I felt like I was some 
kind of super-model. I was pampered and preened in 
between every change of clothes. And no matter how 
revealingly cut the outfit, I felt completely at my 
ease showing off my assets in any pose requested. And 
by the time the outfits progressed onto the swimwear, I 
was already so at ease with showing my underwear via 
splits in skirts and plunges in blouses, that the first 
of the one piece costumes actually felt quite 
unexciting. Gradually as we moved to the bikinis and 
thongs, I got a little more self-conscious, but I still 
posed in whatever was the requested position. 
Surprisingly, when all the swimwear was done, and all 
that was left were bra and panty combinations, the 
point I'd been dreading, I found the first of these to 
be so stunning, and relatively speaking modest, that I 
actually re-appeared on set with a feeling of elation 
and excitement.

It is difficult for me to now explain, but the whole 
experience of a professional set with bright lights, 
dresser to assist and preen, and a photographer with 
such a reassuring manner; they all worked together to 
melt my apprehension, and replace it with an inner glow 
of confidence. So strong was this self-belief, as the 
underwear got scantier, and even when I was expected to 
model the last few outfits which were just skimpy 
thongs, meaning I would be topless; I still walked out 
on set. Even if I did need a small silk shawl around my 
shoulder the first time I walked out with naked 
breasts. But once on set and the shooting re-started, I 
again just proudly displayed my body. And continued to 
do so with all the remaining thongs.

I left his house feeling so proud of myself, not only 
for overcoming my shyness to protect my husband, but I 
also a felt I'd displayed, if only to Graham, that I 
had a body as good as his professional models. Again 
that evening, as Gerry came home I wanted to tell him 
all about my day, but knowing my Gerry, this was 
obviously not something he'd understand, even if I had 
been drawn into it by his stupidity. One thing was 
noticeable though, was Gerry didn't bring any freebies 
home, but I never ventured to ask, and he didn't 
mention anything about the talk Graham had said his 
foreman had been going to deliver.

The next morning, I wasn't expecting to go back to 
Graham's studio, but he had said if he got time he 
might try to call round to show me some of the results 
of the days shooting, but no time was mentioned. I went 
shopping around nine, and when I arrived home around 
ten-thirty, Graham's car was parked in the street out 
side our house. As I got closer, I could see it wasn't 
just Graham inside, but it looked like he had another 
man with him. As I approached my front gate, they began 
to get out of the car, and the man from the passenger 
seat, who was a total stranger to me; took the bags of 
shopping from my hands, and followed me towards my 
front door.

Once I'd opened the door, I just ushered them both 
inside, and after the stranger had put my bags down in 
the kitchen, we all made our way into the front living 
room, and sat down. The stranger sat in the arm chair 
by the fireplace, and Graham sat on the sofa. As he did 
so, he patted the empty space on the sofa to one side 
of him, saying, "Come on, room for a little one."

I turned and backed myself down, and as soon as I was 
seated, he moved up close alongside me, making contact 
leg against leg. Graham opened a folder on his knee and 
began to produce photos, placing them on my lap.

I know this sounds so boastful, but I'm telling you my 
honest feelings. And as I saw these pictures, my heart 
began to swell with pride. It was only the fact I know 
I was there, that made it believable that I was the 
model. I looked stunning. Yes I know the clothes give 
the first impression, but the way they made-up my hair 
and every other part of my body, I just looked so 
elegant. Gradually the photo's moved on to the clothes 
with revealing splits or ones cut to deliberately show 
off my underwear. Even with these total strangers 
looking at photos showing so much of my body, I still 
felt a sense of pride. Then as they began to look at 
the underwear shots, and the almost naked thongs, I did 
feel my face beginning to burn.

But as the remarks they were making were all 
complimentary, I soon began to feel that even these 
were worthy of maybe a little pride. When Graham had 
shown the last of his selection, he asked, "Well. It 
wasn't so bad was it?"

I didn't need to think of my reply, I instantly 
answered, "It was like a dream. I'd never have believed 
I could do it. And your make-up girls made me look so 
good; I could hardly believe it was me."

"So no regrets?"

"Oh no. But you have to promise me nobody will ever see 
any of those photos, especially the ones in the 
underwear."

"Nobody? But we've both seen them."

"Well yes. But I mean they won't be on a calendar, or 
in any kind of book. If my Gerry ever knew I'd done 
anything like that, he'd kill me."

"I guess you could say that is one of the reasons I've 
brought Peter around with me."

"What is?"

"Well the calendar idea, I'm not too sure about that 
now. But seeing how you look in the underwear, it 
brought another idea to mind. I have a couple of 
friends who own a lingerie company, and Peter here is 
their marketing man. They sell most of their lines 
through home parties. I'm sure you know the kind of 
thing?"

I nodded.

"They are normally run by women for women. But we were 
thinking that being as Christmas is on its way. There 
is a vast market out there for men who want to buy sexy 
lingerie for their lady friends', but time or shyness 
prevents them from going into normal shops. They aren't 
invited to parties run by women. But if we were to host 
parties for selected business men, and display the wear 
on a delectable model, I'm sure we'd make a killing."

They were both looking intently at me, but the thought 
of what he was proposing didn't appeal at all.

"What do you think, we could say maybe ten parties 
would be pay back for all the thieving your husband has 
done?"

"I couldn't do that."

"Why not?"

"I couldn't model that kind of revealing stuff in front 
of a group of strange men."

"But you modelled for me yesterday."

"That was different."

"Well that does disappoint me."

"I'll do your calendar."

"I told you, I've gone off that idea."

"I'll do it wearing just that little micro thong from 
yesterday, without wearing a top. So long as my face is 
covered, that is."

"No. The calendar idea is dead now. What about if you 
let both of us fuck you right now?"

My head almost exploded! I instantly went red with 
embarrassment, and a fear ripped into my tummy as I 
realised just how unsafe I was sitting here with two 
men I hardly knew. I began to try to get to my feet, I 
felt sick with fear.

He reached his hand onto my shoulder and as he eased me 
back to the sofa, "Hey, what's wrong? I was only joking 
you. Come on, we wouldn't force you to do anything like 
that."

I looked at him, still trembling with fear, "Please 
don't say things like that. I-I thought you meant it."

"Don't be silly. I didn't do anything yesterday. Did 
I?"

"No."

"Tell you what, you enjoyed posing for me. Didn't you?"

"Yes."

He put his hand in his pocket and pulled from it the 
skimpy thong I'd just referred to, the one I'd modelled 
yesterday. He took hold of my hand and placed the thong 
into it, folding my fingers closed. The thong was so 
minute, even in my tiny hand the thong was almost 
invisible. I shook visibly as I heard him tell me, "You 
go out there and slip this on, and then come back and 
let Peter see what you look like."

"Please don't."

"Don't what?"

"I-I can't. You know I can't."

"I think you can. You wouldn't want your Gerry to see 
any of these pictures. Now would you? Come on, I saw 
you in it yesterday; so letting Peter see you in it 
should be no big deal. After all, you've just offered 
to model this for a calendar that would be ogled by 
thousands of men."

"If I do this, does this payoff Gerry's debt?"

"You are joking."

"So what's in it for me?"

"I just told you. I won't show Gerry these pictures, or 
anybody else for that matter. Come to think of it; I 
bet your mom and dad, or their neighbours might be 
interested in seeing them."

The knot of fear again gripped my tummy, as the thought 
of my parents, or worse still their neighbours seeing 
me in those poses.

"Please, I beg you."

"Well I'm not asking much. Peter here has driven a long 
way, on my say so, just to see you. And now you're 
acting like a schoolgirl. Just be a good girl and go 
put that on. If you feel uneasy posing downstairs where 
people might be able to see into your windows, just 
give us a call when you're ready, and we'll come up to 
your bedroom. That way you won't need to draw the 
curtains; nobody can see into your room up there."

It was obvious I had to comply with his wishes, so I 
got to my feet and made my way up to my bedroom where 
after locking the door I undressed, and put the skimpy 
little thong in place. I say in place, because you 
could hardly call it wearing it. It was just a narrow 
triangular strip of thin silky material about four 
centimetres at the widest part, tapering to nothing at 
the narrow end over a length of no more than five 
centimetres; held in place at the front of my crotch 
with a narrow ribbon. 

Yesterday, the dresser helped me, and I'd stood there 
open legged while she made sure it was strategically 
placed to cover the necessary area. But now using a 
mirror, I could see that no matter where I positioned 
it, it only served to cover the centre of my vagina, 
leaving the outer lips bulging from either side.

It was obvious yesterday when I saw the thing hanging 
on the rack, that I would be exposing myself. But, I'd 
just gone with the flow of the whole event. And even 
today, looking at the results of yesterdays shoot, as I 
mentioned earlier; their complimentary remarks made me 
feel proud, if somewhat nervous about my revelation. 
But now; knowing once I call them up, there wouldn't be 
any camera or impersonal posing. It would be me posing 
for two men to look and mentally devour every 
centimetre of my flesh. But as the alternative was for 
my Gerry to see the pictures from yesterday, I knew I 
had no choice.

I walked to my bedroom door, pulled back the little 
bolt and as I opened it and went to step out onto my 
landing to call down the stairs to Graham and Peter, I 
almost jumped out of my skin. They were both standing 
there just outside my door. Before I'd even regained my 
composure, they were moving towards me, and I was 
backing into my room. By the time I was alongside my 
bed, Graham had reached behind me, and as I felt his 
hand touching my bottom I stopped. Then as I stopped, 
he brought his other hand up to cup my naked breast.

"Come on mate, you take the other one."

I tried to make a protest, "Please don't do that."

But they took absolutely no notice, and in seconds, 
Peter had taken up Graham's invitation, and he was at 
my other side, with his hand cupping my other breast.

"Please no. I only agreed to model the costume. Please 
no touching."

"Don't be silly. Anybody would think you were a twelve 
year old behind the bike sheds. Just relax; we're only 
having a bit of fun."

I reluctantly just stood there, with them both fondling 
a breast apiece, when Peter said, "Jesus Graham, I'm 
getting a stiffy."

"You're not the only one. And by the feel of this 
nipple, we're not the only ones getting turned on. I 
bet her snatch is getting moist as well."

"Please stop now; I've let you have a feel. If he wants 
to see the costume, let me just model it for him, and 
then I'll get myself dressed again."

"What say you Pete, do you want to check out the 
goods?"

"I'd rather she took care of this cock of mine."

"You heard him. How about a quick blow job before you 
show-off your goodies?"

"No. I'm not doing anything like that. I didn't even 
want to let you touch me, but I've gone that far, and 
I'm going no further."

"You won't fuck, and now you're telling me you won't 
even blow us. I don't think you understand just how 
serious a mess your Gerry has got himself into."

"I know all about that, but I'm not turning myself into 
a prostitute."

"Ok. It's obvious you're a nice girl who doesn't go in 
for this kind of thing everyday, but a blow job is 
nothing."

"I couldn't. If I put my mouth on your thing, I could 
never kiss my Gerry again, it just wouldn't be right."

"Well one way or another, you'll have to relieve both 
of our dicks, or your Gerry is going to be experiencing 
prison food."

"Please don't say that."

All of this time they'd both been continuing their 
manipulation of my breasts, and Peter had also moved 
his other hand down behind me, and was stroking down 
over my bottom and gradually each stroke had been 
making its way deeper under my crotch. Just at that 
moment, his finger tip had reached the entrance to my 
pussy, and I squirmed my hips forwards in an attempt to 
prise him away. But Graham's hand was stroking my pubic 
bulge from the front, and all I succeeded in doing was 
to remove Peter's finger, and replace it with Graham's. 

"Come on, you can't pretend you're not getting excited 
by the thought of it. I can feel how wet your snatch 
is."

"Please, let me get dressed now."

"Ok. You heard her Pete."

As Graham spoke he let go of me and stepped back one 
pace. Then as Peter looked and saw what he had done, he 
slowly and somewhat begrudgingly copied Graham.

"So is that your last word? You want me to take this 
video stuff to the police station?"

"No, you know I don't."

"Ok my last offer. Take our dicks out, get back on the 
bed, and you can wank us while we play with your 
snatch."

I couldn't see Gerry go to prison, and if rubbing their 
cocks was the price; then I decided I'd have to pay. 
But I knew if I allowed them free access to my pussy, I 
would be susceptible to my own desires, and the whole 
thing could end up with a major fucking session.

"I'll wank both of you, and you can have me on my back 
on the bed, and fondle the top half of my body, but no 
touching down there."

"No can do. I said that was my final offer. So unless 
you're going to play ball, I guess you'd better be 
prepared to loose your husband for a few years."

Then Peter interrupted, "Hang on Graham. She's agreed 
to wank us, so let's just give her a break."

"Well if you're happy with that. I just thought you 
wanted to get inside her snatch?"

"Obviously I still do. But after all, she's a married 
woman; and she has agreed to work off this erection."

"Ok Mary, looks like Pete here has taken pity on you. 
So first of all you get our pants off, then we'll have 
you on the bed."

I looked across to Peter, and said, a quiet, "Thank 
you."

And then I began to loosen Graham's belt. As I did, he 
removed his tie; both of them must have removed their 
jackets down stairs. As I started to lower his 
trousers, he was taking off his shirt, and so was 
Peter. So once I'd removed Graham's trousers, he stood 
there naked, apart from his socks. Then I turned and 
began to undo and lower Peter's trousers to the floor.

Now we were all as good as naked. That is they were 
both still wearing socks. And me with only a slip of 
material about the size of an iPod that was called a 
thong. At this point I backed myself up to the bed and 
was about to lift myself back onto it. But Graham took 
hold of my shoulder and as he turned me around, "No my 
dear, we want you up on your hands and knees."

Although I'd agreed to lie on my back, it didn't seen 
to make much difference which way up I was, so up I 
climbed, and they each climbed up one either side. As I 
was on my hands and knees, I couldn't see how I was 
expected to be able to wank their dicks. I sat myself 
back onto my own legs, so I was now in a kneeling 
position.

A hand pressed into the middle of my back, as Graham's 
said, "No my dear, I want you back down there, I want 
to be able to see your snatch as it gets all excited."

I didn't resist his pressure, but now back with hands 
supporting my weight, I asked, "How am I supposed to 
wank you?"

"Patience my dear. We'll let you get to play with our 
cocks soon enough."

With that they each resumed their breast fondling, and 
the arousal they had started while playing with me 
whilst we were standing by the bed, was instantly re-
kindled. Graham moved himself around towards my head, 
reaching under me to hold and fondle one breast, but he 
was also knelt down low, and he brought his face up to 
mine, and started to kiss my cheek. He slowly moved 
around placing kisses from one ear across to the other, 
and covering all parts of my face in between. 

I resisted the kisses as he approached my lips, but as 
he was also using his open palm to caress and stroke my 
hair and neck, after a few minutes of this tender 
handling I could taste his tongue as my mouth began to 
accept his eager lips. Once my resistance had been 
thwarted, my pent-up passion just exploded, and our 
tongues danced in each others juices.

I'm not exactly sure at what point I became aware of 
Peter's hands stroking the inside of my legs. But as 
Graham fuelled my arousal with his tongue, the effects 
became obvious as my hips began a spontaneous humping 
motion. I was aware of my action, but appeared either 
unwilling or unable to stop myself. I know that this 
was the point at which my movements trapped the 
intruding hand as it tried to gain access to my crotch 
area. And I guess it was my state of arousal, which 
gave Peter the confidence to take his part of my 
stimulation to the next level.

I hadn't noticed his hand was no longer working my 
breast, but I did feel the pressure as he used both of 
his hands, gripping my legs tightly just below the 
knees, as he spread my legs open wide. Whilst his hands 
still restrained my legs I felt what was instantly 
recognisable as his tongue as he lapped the exposed 
lips of my pussy, first one side then the other. My 
first deliberate action was to try to pull my mouth 
from Graham's. But he was far too strong, and my 
attempt was futile. But worse was my involuntary 
reaction to his licking. I felt my tummy clench, and as 
it drew in, it pushed my whole genital area, bulging it 
into Peter's face.

This he took as an endorsement of his method, and he 
released my legs, giving him a free hand to pull the 
meagre thong clear. Then he began to devour my clit; 
sucking, rolling it around, and even a light nipping 
and tugging. Once he'd homed in on the approach that 
gave the best response, he relentlessly worked back and 
forth between rolling my bulging button, and then 
curling his own tongue which he then pushed as deep up 
inside me as he could. Then it would withdraw, 
unfurling as it slowly slipped out; to return to my 
eager clitoris. This onslaught of stimulation took me 
to heights of arousal the like of which I'd never 
experienced.

And then as Peter's tongue slipped from my hole but 
didn't arrive at my waiting clit, I felt his hands 
taking hold of my waist. It was at this point as I 
waited for the inevitable; that I realised somewhere in 
this journey of discovery, Graham's cock had replaced 
his tongue, and he was now gripping both of my breasts 
as he thrust his cock hard at my throat. Then I felt 
it. Peter's cock! As it touched my hole, my tummy again 
clenched, and this drove my hips back. My hole opened 
as his cock plunged in to the depth of my reflex 
thrust, but just this first few inches stretched my 
hole open wider than it had ever known. I tried to let 
out a cry, but the cock in my mouth just pushed deeper 
and began to enter my wind-pipe. 

Then his hands released my hips and I felt him take 
hold of a handful of my hair. He just tugged gently, 
and at the same time gave a steady push. I could feel 
it slowly swelling my tummy as it entered uncharted 
territory, making its own path as it drove deeper and 
deeper inside me; not unlike the relentless advance of 
a gang of bodyguards, as they escort a celebrity 
through a dense crowd of photographers. 

Eventually I could feel his groin as it made contact 
with my bottom, and at that point I knew I taken his 
full length. From then on the whole event just took on 
a new dimension, I knew both of them were pumping, one 
at each end of my body, but that very same body of mine 
was experiencing sensations at such a level and 
frequency, I just lost all conscious control.

I had several of what up until this point in my life 
I'd called orgasms, but all the time there was 
something else I couldn't explain building inside my 
tummy. Something I'd never before experienced. They 
both fucked for what seemed an hour, but I guess in 
reality couldn't have been more than quarter of that 
time. And then Peter pulled hard on my hair, almost 
lifting my head off Graham's cock, and at the same 
time, his strokes which up until now had been long 
steady thrusting, became erratic. Then as he thrust 
what I could feel was his first load of cum, he ripped 
my hair backwards violently.

"Oh fucking yes!"

Again he thrust, and again he tugged at my hair.

"Fucking hell yes!"

His first violent tug had pulled me off Graham's cock, 
and now in front of me, he was wanking his cum shots 
directly into my face and hair. But did any of this 
worry me? No fucking way! For as my pussy had sensed 
Peter's first load of cum, it had exploded with a kind 
of convulsion. It was alternately dilating and 
contracting. With each dilation it was spraying out 
love juices. 

From what I can remember Peter gave a good ten or more 
plunges depositing his cum, before he slipped from my 
pussy. But as they both finished there relief and 
lowered me back to the bed on my side; I carried on 
writhing and pumping cum (mine and some of Peter's) for 
at least a minute after they'd both finished. (You 
might be wondering; if I was so far out of my head, how 
on earth could I know or remember so much about who did 
what, and where and when. Well, I've written my 
feelings and the parts I could remember; but how I came 
to know the rest, you will find out soon.) 

When I returned to normality, I could hear the shower 
running, and I was lying in the most disgusting mess on 
my bed. Neither of them were in my room, but then I 
heard their voices coming from the bathroom, where I 
supposed they must both be taking a shower. I got to my 
feet dragging the sheet from the bed with me. But the 
sheet I'd been lying on was so disgusting, I bundled it 
into a heap and dropped it on the floor. Then using the 
sheet from the mattress, I wrapped it around myself and 
made my way to the door where I again slipped the bolt 
into place, locking them out. I returned to the bed and 
began to wipe myself down as best I could using the 
sheet.

After about five or ten minutes, I heard the shower 
stop, and a few minutes later I heard their voices out 
on the landing, as they made their way to my door. The 
handle on the door rattled as they attempted to open 
the door.

"Mary. Are you alright? Have you locked the door?"

"Yes. I'm not coming out until you've gone."

"But our clothes are in there."

I hadn't thought about that.

"Well go down the stairs, and call back up. When I know 
you're out of reach of the door I'll throw them down to 
you."

"You're being silly. Come on open the door."

"No. I don't trust you."

"Don't be silly. We've had what we wanted; all we want 
now is our clothes."

"Well go to the bottom of the stairs, and then I'll 
throw them to you."

I then heard Graham say to Peter, "Come on mate, it 
sounds like she's gone all shy again."

Then he said in a louder voice, "We're going down now."

A few seconds later the voice sounded like it was 
coming from downstairs, "Ok. We're in the hall. You can 
throw them down."

I slowly slid the bolt back, and opened the door, a 
quick peek told me they weren't on the landing, so I 
dashed to the banister rail and threw their clothes 
down the stairs, and then returned to my room locking 
the door. I waited until I could hear their voices 
coming from the room below me, and then I made my way 
to the bathroom and had a soothing shower. But the warm 
water didn't just clean and refresh me, as the warmth 
engulfed my naked body; from deep inside my tummy I 
felt a glow. 

This was unlike anything I'd ever known, and as I stood 
there my body began to tremble. The feeling built, 
until I had another orgasm. This was not as 
overwhelming as the gusher I'd just experienced, but it 
was far and away stronger than any other so called 
orgasm I'd had previously, and it did result in me 
sinking to my knees in the shower.

I'd intended to shower without wetting my hair, but as 
it was, I now looked like a bedraggled rat as I limply 
stepped from the shower. After a quick attempt at 
removing the bulk of the water from my hair, I wrapped 
my head with a towel. Slipped on a towel robe and after 
a quick dry down I slowly made my way downstairs. When 
I got to the living room door I called in,

"I'm coming in, but if either of you attempt to get 
anywhere near me I'll scream the house down."

"Stop acting like a drama queen. Just get your pretty 
little snatch in here, and take a look at this."

As I walked gingerly into the room they were both on 
the sofa looking at a porn video on the TV.

"I don't think you two will be so cocky if I phone the 
police?"

Graham froze the screen and looked at me, "Police? Why 
on earth would you do that?"

"Rape! Don't think you can do something like that and 
get away with it. What my Gerry has done doesn't even 
come close to your crime."

He gave a stifled laugh, "Ha! Ha!"

"What ever makes you think we'd want to rape you?"

"Think! I don't need to think. You pair of bastards 
have just done it."

"Oh you mean your little fucking session up stairs. But 
that wasn't rape. That was what we were watching when 
you came in. I videoed it, it makes good viewing. In 
fact,"

And at this point he snatched out and grabbed a handful 
of the towel robe I was wearing, and as he pulled, the 
loosely tied belt slipped off, allowing the rope to 
pull wide open.

"It's given me an appetite for a piece of that snatch 
on my dick."

I leapt sideways to get out of his reach, and only 
succeeded in ripping the robe exposing myself 
completely.

"You bastard! Get off me!"

Peter then spoke, in a somewhat calmer voice than 
Graham's, "Come on Graham. Enough is enough. Let her 
cover herself up."

Graham loosed his hold, and I attempted to wrap the 
torn towelling as best I could to cover myself. Peter 
got to his feet and began to walk towards me. I backed 
away, and I guess the look on my face told him I wasn't 
happy being backed into the corner of the room. He held 
his hands up open palmed,

"Calm down. I'm not going to touch you. Tell you what, 
how about you sit there and I'll go and make us all a 
nice cup of tea."

By now I was almost in tears, and I half spoke and half 
sobbed, "Tea! You don't think making me a cup of tea 
will get you out of this. You're the one who'll go down 
for rape!"

"I can tell you're fraught, but maybe when you have 
time to relax you might see things differently. I'll 
make that cup of tea anyway. Do you want one Graham?"

"I guess so if you're doing the honours."

He left the room, and Graham said, "I'll start this 
from the beginning; Peter has already seen the start, 
so he won't be missing anything."

"No need to on my account. I don't want to watch your 
dirty movies."

"I think you should. If you have some silly idea about 
being raped, I think maybe you should see the real 
evidence. This is video footage as it happened."

The video began at the point where I'd just resigned 
myself to the prospect of having to wank both of them. 
All the conversation and my protesting up to that point 
hadn't been recorded. So the first thing I see is 
Graham and Peter stood with their backs to the camera 
and me in front of them. To be more accurate, it could 
have been any two men stood there; but I knew it was 
them. 

I could then be seen to be doing something to Graham, 
and as his pants began to drop, it was obvious; I'd 
been loosening his belt, and was then removing his 
trousers and pants. At the same time both of them could 
be seen removing their shirts and ties. In short, it 
was a recording of the episode I've just related, taken 
from some point behind where they had been standing; my 
dressing table would be my guess. (So now you know how 
I managed to fill in; who did what, and where and when; 
while I was so far out of my head.)

As I sat there watching, without diverting his gaze 
from the screen, Graham said, "The camera work isn't 
what you'd call professional, but being as I only had 
seconds to plonk it down on your dresser, I guess I 
couldn't expect much better. But even without the 
close-ups, and the fact we're not always fully in 
frame, the audio seems to have captured every sigh and 
whisper. And so far, I haven't heard you say no, or cry 
out for help."

Then he turned his head and asked sarcastically, "Are 
you sure it was in this session that you got raped?"

Before I could answer, Peter arrived with a tray with 
our cups of tea. He passed one to me, "Do you take 
sugar? Or are you sweet enough already?"

I guess the five or so minutes he'd been out of the 
room had given me time to reflect, and the hostility I 
had been feeling had subsided slightly. Instead of 
giving him a curt reply, I managed a slight smile as I 
replied, "No thank you."

He then gave Graham a cup, and sat himself back down 
next to him.

Graham again tried to goad me, "I was just asking her 
if this was the fucking session where she thinks she 
got raped."

I could see this kind of remark didn't sit easy with 
Peter, and he gave Graham a black look as he said,

"Ok Graham, I'm sure she isn't going to pursue that 
route. There's no point in rubbing it in."

I was sipping on my tea, and by now on the screen, we'd 
arrived at the point where Graham pulled his tongue 
from my mouth, and manoeuvred himself into position in 
front of me. As he brought his cock up to my mouth, I 
could hardly believe my eyes. I could be seen lifting 
my head, and opening my mouth, not just allowing him 
access, but you could almost say, encouraging him.

It was obvious to me, and would be to anyone who 
watched this video, that there was no way I could claim 
he abused me forcefully. I sat there completely numb, 
as Peter could be seen to lift his head from my crotch, 
and he positioned himself to give me a doggy fucking. 
Yes his hands were on my waist, but I didn't fight or 
attempt to struggle. And yes Graham was pulling at my 
breasts, but again, this wasn't, or didn't look like an 
attempt to restrain me. So as Peter was seen to push 
himself up towards my bottom, and he grabbed a handful 
of my hair, it looked like I was a willing participant.

When it got to the end, and I saw myself writhing 
around long after both of them had dismounted, I turned 
bright red, and unknowingly lifted my hands to cover my 
face. I sat their mentally squirming in my seat so 
ashamed of my disgusting performance. But as soon as 
Graham turned the video off, Peter said, "Well my dear, 
I can honestly say, I've never had a girl fuck as good 
as that before. You have a real talent."

I didn't reply, and indeed, I think I actually blushed 
even redder. But Graham again brought up my accusation 
of rape, "Come-on then Mary. Are you still considering 
reporting us to the police?"

I didn't speak, but with my head hung low, I just shook 
it from side to side.

It was as I sat there sulking, knowing I had no 
bargaining point to free myself from this state of 
affairs I'd been drawn into, that I suddenly realised 
something. I lifted my head, and said to Graham, "So I 
won't have to do any of those underwear parties now."

He gave me a curious look, and then turned to look at 
Peter. As if to ask if Peter knew what I was talking 
about. Peter just shrugged his shoulders, and Graham 
turned back to look at me and asked, "And what makes 
you think you've got out of paying me back for your 
stupid husband?"

"You gave me the option earlier, if I didn't want to do 
the parties, I could..."

I paused, and then as I felt I was now in a position to 
be bold, I continued, "You said if I didn't want to do 
the parties, I could fuck you both. Well if that wasn't 
rape, then I've done what you asked. So now Gerry's 
debt is paid in full."

Peter looked at Graham and said, "She has a point."

Graham didn't look pleased at Peter siding with me, but 
after a few seconds silence he came back with, "Ok 
little miss clever clogs. But when I watched that 
video, I only saw one of us fucking you. If you want to 
take up that offer, then I want to see you on your 
hands and knees on the floor now, robe off, and ready 
to fuck. And then once I've spunked up inside your 
snatch; then I'll call it debt paid."

I knew he'd again got the better of me. I'll bet as you 
read this you're thinking, 'you've already fucked one, 
what does one more matter'? But I'd never have let 
Peter go that far knowingly. And now 'in cold blood' so 
to speak, there was no way I could get down and let him 
take me. But a kind of determination, or if you will, 
pig headedness came over me.

"I don't care what you say or do. I'm not modelling 
that stuff, and neither of you are going to get 
anywhere near me again."

Graham looked more than a little annoyed, and he sprang 
to his feet and stomped across the room towards me. As 
he got within reaching distance he took hold of the 
ripped towelling robe, and started to pull it from me, 
ripping it further.

"SHREEEEEEEK!!"

I let out the longest and loudest scream I could 
muster, and even though Graham tried to subdue it with 
his hand I kept up the noise. He stepped back and 
brought an open palmed hand across my face, "SLAP!"

It stung like hell, but in less than a second, as I 
overcame the initial shock I resumed my scream. I saw 
his hand rise again, and mentally prepared myself for 
the pain. But it never came, Peter had now sprung to 
his feet, and he grappled with Graham restraining his 
hands.

"Enough of that. I agreed to the sex stuff because I 
thought she was gonna be easy. But I'm not gonna be a 
party to any rough stuff. At this point Graham grabbed 
the remote, ejected the video, and stomped off out of 
the room. As he went through the door he said, "You 
haven't heard the last of this."

Peter took hold of my hands, and then as he gently 
stroked my face he said, "I'm sorry about all that. And 
as for what happened upstairs, I meant what I said, you 
were the best. And if you do ever want a job modelling, 
just get in contact, and I'll find you work instantly. 
And I don't mean as a prostitute. Bye love, and take 
care."

And then they were gone. I sat there for a good hour 
just crying, I'm not sure why. Was it because Graham 
might still cause trouble for Gerry? Or because I'd 
been raped? Or because in reality it hadn't actually 
been rape, but I had actually let them fuck me? I don't 
know myself, but when I eventually stopped crying, I 
realised it wouldn't be long before Gerry would be home 
from work. I dashed upstairs and did whatever was 
necessary in our room to remove all signs of what had 
taken place, and I'd just walked into the kitchen to 
start on the evening meal when I heard a key in the 
front door.

It had to be Gerry, he was the only one besides me with 
a key, but it was a good half an hour before he was due 
home. Then I heard his voice, "Hi honey, it's me."

As I walked from the kitchen I said, "You're early."

And then I saw Graham walking down the hall directly 
behind Gerry.

"Err Mary, can you come and sit down a minute; I've got 
a bit of bad news."

My mind was racing, Gerry's reaction wasn't what I 
might have expected if he'd seen the photos Graham had 
taken of me, or for that matter the video. So what was 
it? I didn't have long to wait to find out, as I sat 
down in the chair, Gerry sat on the sofa with Graham; 
Graham sitting in the same position he'd been in just a 
few hours earlier.

"I've been caught out by the CCTV cameras at work."

I knew I had to play innocent, so I asked, "Caught, 
doing what?"

"Well it's the stuff I bring home; they've got evidence 
of me deliberately damaging pallets so that I can scrap 
them off. And if they take the evidence to the police, 
I could go to prison."

"So what happens now, have you been with the police?"

"No they haven't reported it yet."

"I don't understand."

"Look Mary, you know I love you. Don't you?"

He looked so embarrassed saying this, especially in 
front of his boss.

"Yes. Of course I do."

"I don't really want to ask you this. But it's the only 
way I can save my job, and not end up in prison."

I obviously knew what Graham was playing at, but I 
couldn't tell Gerry what had already taken place. And 
even if I did, it wouldn't help. So I just answered as 
I thought he'd expect me to, "Ask me what?"

He passed over a catalogue, the company name across the 
top said, 'Erotic Nights' 'Sexy lingerie to spice up 
the long winter nights'.

"If you'll model this stuff for Mr. Spencer's friend 
who owns that company, then he says he'll let me keep 
my job, and he won't go to the police."

I opened the catalogue, and the kind of stuff in there 
was as you might expect. I asked Gerry,

"Have you seen this stuff?"

"Yes. I know it's a bit skimpy. But you will be on a 
stage, and nobody will be able to get near enough to 
touch you."

"A stage? What do you mean?"

"He's explained it all to me. It's all above board. 
You'll have someone to help you dress, a female of 
course. And it will be in a private club, with only 
selected guest. They'll be a hired security man, so you 
won't be in any danger."

"So you've already discussed the details before you 
even asked me?"

"Well yes, I couldn't ask you without knowing you'd be 
alright."

"And you want me to appear on stage in front of a load 
of strange men, wearing this?"

I at this point held the catalogue open showing a thong 
similar in size to the one I'd modelled earlier for 
Graham and Peter.

"Please Mary. I know they don't cover much, but if you 
don't, then I'm in real trouble. I wouldn't ask if I 
could see any other way out."

What could I say? Here was my husband begging me to do 
the very thing I'd told Graham just a few hours earlier 
that I wouldn't consider. I looked at Graham, and as I 
said, "Ok, you'd better make the arrangements, and let 
me know which night you want me,"

I gave him my most angry scowl. It was Graham, who now 
spoke, "I think you made a wise choice there Mrs. 
Kendal. Oh that does sound so formal, especially as I 
expect I'll be seeing so much more of you in the 
future. Do you mind if I use your first name?"

Gerry about burst himself to get his answer out before 
me, "No of course not Mr. Spencer. Her name is Mary."

"Right Mary, have you prepared Gerry's meal yet?"

I wondered what on earth he wanted to know that for, 
but I just replied, "Well no. I was just about to start 
on it when you arrived."

"That's good. Now Gerry lad, it's your call, but I know 
you and the lads were talking about the match tonight."

(Apparently there was some football match being shown 
on TV)

At this point Graham took out his wallet, and pulled 
out a £20 note, as he offered it to Gerry he continued, 
"Here's a twenty, order yourself a take-away, and some 
beer, and while you settle down to watch the game, I'll 
take your little lady out for a meal."

I spoke before Gerry had chance to accept, "No it's 
alright. I don't feel like going out; thank you."

"Oh that is a shame. I know Peter Harris is in town 
today, he's been to checkout a new model." Then he 
looked at Gerry, "He's the advertising man for the 
undies firm. It would have been an ideal time to get 
this sorted. If we miss him, it could take weeks before 
we get him down here again. And you know what that 
means? Until we get something agreed, your head is 
still on the chopping block."

Gerry looked at me, "What's wrong? Don't you feel 
well?"

"I've got a bit of a headache."

Then he came right up close and whispered in my ear.

"Please. You don't know what I'm going through. I've 
got more than just a bit of a headache, I'm sick to the 
bottom of my guts. Please do this, just for me. I just 
need to know where I stand."

Again I was trapped; Gerry needed my help, so how could 
I say no.

"Well ok I'll meet this man, but can't he come here?"

"Not wanting to offend you or anything, but look around 
you. This guy heads up a big advertising firm, he's 
used to doing his business in posh hotels. I can hardly 
invite him to your semi-detached two-up two-down. What 
I'll do is go and make a few calls, and I'll get back 
here for seven."

I thought to myself, 'That's rich; he wasn't too posh 
to come here this afternoon and fuck me into a state of 
oblivion'. But I obviously didn't say anything. Then 
again he deliberately turned and looked at Gerry,

"Can you make sure she's dressed up to the nines? I 
know she's a stunner in any clothes, but I've hyped her 
up to be a real bombshell. You know the kind of thing, 
low top, high hemline, and lots of naked leg. 
Definitely no tights (panty hose)."

Then as Gerry groveling replied, "Yes Mr. Spencer, I 
know just the dress."

Graham gave me a look as if to say, 'That's you 
sorted'.

With that Graham left and as soon as the door was 
closed behind him; Gerry took hold of me and gave me a 
hug.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't want to bring him home with me. 
And I hate myself for asking you to do this, but there 
is no other way of keeping me from prison."

"Wouldn't it be worth going to a solicitor? Maybe it 
isn't as bad as he says."

"That would cost money. And anyway, we haven't got 
time. And even if a solicitor said it wasn't as bad as 
Mr. Spencer is making out, I'd still be certain to 
loose my job, and then be black listed. So we'd be in 
real trouble with the mortgage. Please do this for me, 
I promise I'll make it up to you."

"How?"

"I don't know. But I'll do what ever you want."

I resigned myself to what was now becoming my 
inevitable fate, "Oh well, I suppose if I've got to go 
out to somewhere posh, I'd better go and try to make 
myself look respectable."

He took hold again and gave me a kiss, "That's my 
girl."

And then as he gave me a wicked grin, "Not too 
respectable. You heard what Mr. Spencer said. Lots of 
leg and tits on show. Wear that little black dress you 
got for my sister's wedding."

The dress he referred to was low cut at the top, high 
cut hem, thin silky material, held with two thin 
strings across the shoulders. It couldn't be worn with 
a bra, and with the thin material, even normal panties 
showed through; so a thong was the best option. But not 
a thong as skimpy as the one I've already been talking 
about.

"Are you sure you want me to go out with two strangers, 
wearing that dress?"

"Yes. You heard him, I think the more you show the 
better he'll like it."

"And you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Last time I wore it you moaned at me for weeks. If I 
remember rightly, the phrase you used was, 'You looked 
like a slut'. Is that what you want? The more I show, 
the better you'll like it?"

"Well no not usually. But on this occasion, it's what 
he wants."

I stomped up to our bedroom, and I guess I was angry on 
two scores. One Graham had won. And second, Gerry 
seemed not to care how much of me his boss got to see. 
As I moved the dresses in my wardrobe looking for the 
dress Gerry had asked me to wear, right next to it was 
another dress, one I'd bought at the same time as the 
black one. Both of these dresses were sexy, and I'd 
bought them whilst in a kind of strop. It was over a 
remark his sister had made to one of her friends while 
we were out on her hen night. We were all in the 
ladies, they were both busy touching up their makeup in 
front of the mirrors; but what they didn't know; was 
that I was in one of the cubicles behind them, and I 
overheard every word. 

"Gerry's wife. She's a jumped up little cow. If she 
hadn't got her hooks into our Gerry, she'd still be 
sucking cocks on that council house estate."

She obviously didn't know I'd overheard her, and I 
didn't tell Gerry what I'd heard. So I just thought, 
'Right; I'll show you'. I went shopping, and bought the 
two most risky outfits I could find. I didn't show 
Gerry, and made sure I delayed being ready to go to her 
wedding until the last second. Even I'd backed out of 
the second choice dress, a little red number. But by 
the time I came down wearing the black dress, Gerry was 
waiting in the taxi. He about blew a fuse, but it was 
too late to tell me to go back and get changed. The 
dress had the desired effect; all male eyes were on me, 
and his sister Audrey was fuming.

But now seeing the red dress, I lifted it off the 
hanger and held it up against myself. That was it if he 
wanted me to show flesh, I'd show flesh. This dress, 
like the black one, was thin silky material, but the 
cut was supposed to represent a dress made of small 
scraps of odd shaped cloth. So both the bust line and 
hem were uneven. Resulting in the nipple on one breast 
being precariously close to exposure with every 
movement made. Whilst the hem had triangular pieces 
missing, so if viewed from certain angles you would be 
allowed a glimpse of my crotch from either front or 
back. There were also pieces in the bodice missing, 
revealing the lower part of one breast, and my belly 
button. In the back of my mind, apart from annoying 
Gerry, I hoped he'd again blow his top, and order me to 
put something more decent on.

Once I'd done my hair and makeup, I slipped the red 
dress on. I was just selecting some panties, when I had 
a thought. The infamous little thong! I'd hidden it, of 
all places, in my jewellery box; amongst my other cheap 
trash. Not one piece was worth over a tenner (£10); not 
that that's got anything to do with my story. Back to 
the point, I placed the slip of material on my pussy, 
and tied the ribbons. Then I opened my legs and held a 
mirror down there. A few pulls to the back and over to 
the left a bit, and that was it. If Gerry wanted 
slutty, I'd give him slutty with a vengeance.

I walked out to the top of the stairs, and with one leg 
straight, I then turned the other so my foot and knee 
were pointing slightly outwards. And then I called 
down, "Gerry."

I waited about ten seconds, and was about to call 
again, when the hall light turned on. About two seconds 
later Gerry appeared at the foot of the stairs with a 
pint glass of beer in his hand. It was a little like a 
cartoon character. He looked up, and then his eyes 
almost popped out of his head. But even if he did 
retain his eyes, he didn't retain the mouthful of beer 
he'd just taken; as he coughed and spluttered to get 
some words out, he sprayed the contents of his mouth.

He put down his glass, and began to scramble up the 
stairs. As his head got level with my knee height, he 
stopped, and stared. And he stared some more. He was 
totally mesmerised, and I'm sure he was there like a 
statue for at least a minute. In the end I broke his 
trance by putting my hand on his forehead and as I 
tilted his head back I asked, "Well; is that showing 
enough flesh for your Mr. Spencer?"

"My god Mary. You look amazing!"

"Where on earth did you get that dress?"

"And those knickers. My god they look like the ones in 
that catalogue."

"Well, is this how you want me to be dressed when your 
Mr. Spencer arrives?"

I was feeling quite smug, thinking the effect I'd had 
on him would be certain to result in him telling me to 
go back and put something less revealing on. But he 
just said,

"Fucking hell yes. He'll be knocked out when he sees 
you like that."

I wanted to go back to my room and at the very least 
put the black dress on, but when I attempted to suggest 
that, "Are you sure this isn't going too far, I've got 
plenty of time to put the black one on."

All I got was him grabbing my wrist and as he began to 
pull me down the stairs, "No way. That one is perfect. 
His Mr. Harris will be gob smacked. I know I am."

Even when he'd got me down stairs, he sat me back on 
the sofa, knelt on the floor in front of me and lifted 
my legs up onto his shoulders while he sat there ogling 
my crotch. In fact he was still knelt there when we 
heard the door knocker, "KNOCK, KNOCK."

He jumped to his feet and almost ran to the door. He 
returned seconds later followed by Graham. I had 
already stood up, not wanting Graham and Peter to get 
the view of my crotch afforded by my sitting position. 
Why I bothered I don't know, because even I knew that 
some time during the evening, both of them would be 
bound to get an eyeful. As Graham followed Gerry into 
the room Gerry said proudly, "There you are Mr. 
Spencer. Is that the kind of dress you wanted?"

"Well my dear. It looks like your husband knows how to 
pick your clothes for you."

Gerry again was bursting with pride as he said, "No Mr. 
Spencer, it wasn't me who chose it. She selected that 
all by herself."

"And I'm glad to see no tights."

"Never mind no tights. Come on Mary, lift your foot up 
onto the chair and spread your knees so Mr. Spencer can 
see those knickers."

As I say I'd got up from the sofa, but as I'd moved 
towards the door, I was stood alongside a dining room 
chair. And so that meant the seat base on the chair 
Gerry was asking me to lift my foot up to was a good 
eighteen inches high.

"No Gerry. I don't think Mr. Spencer would want to see 
me do such a rude thing as that."

"Come, come Mary. They can't be that bad. After all, we 
are going to talk about you modelling our naughty 
knickers. And while we're about it, call me Graham, Mr. 
Spencer sounds so formal."

I stood there not wanting to lift my leg, but Gerry 
gave me a nasty look and then said, "Come on Mary. You 
chose to wear them."

I thought fuck him, I'll show his fucking boss, what do 
I care. So I lifted my foot up and plonked it on the 
seat of the chair, and then spread my knee open. Gerry 
stooped down, and then reached across, not touching 
Graham, but signalling to him to stoop close and have a 
look.

"Well done Gerry lad. She's got a cracking little 
snatch. I bet old Peter Harris's mouth will be dripping 
when he claps eyes on that. By the way, you do realise 
he'll probably want to see her try one or two of his 
samples on?"

He wasn't asking me, he was talking directly to Gerry, 
who answered for me, "Yes. But that's alright. Mary 
won't mind,"

Then looking up to my face, "Will you?"

"No dear. If that's what you want."

"And the other thing is, this meeting with Peter, it 
won't be like the actual modelling. There won't be a 
dresser or bodyguard."

"Well they'll only be you and him there, so she won't 
need that kind of thing."

"And while we're on the ticklish stuff. I've got a 
single hotel room for the interview, but it hasn't got 
on-suite, so she'll have to undress in front of us, you 
won't mind that will you?"

"Of course not. I'm sure we can trust you."

"Good lad. We'll be off now, but I want to ask you just 
one more favour."

"Ask away Mr. Spencer."

"Just try to reassure her that it's ok with you for her 
to let go. Let her know she's allowed to be sexy. You 
know the kind of thing, while she's changing, it 
wouldn't hurt for her to use that little snatch to 
clinch the deal. A bit of flashing and maybe 
accidentally bumping it into contact with Peter's hand 
could work wonders."

By now both of them had finished looking at my crotch, 
and were standing right next to me. So while he might 
have been talking to Gerry, it was as if he was trying 
to show me I didn't have any say in the matter. Then 
Gerry gave me his pitiful look.

"Please, just for me."

"What you want me to flash it and then put it in his 
crony's hand?"

"It's only this once, just to get him to accept Mr. 
Spencer's proposal."

I looked at Graham and said, "Well it looks like you've 
got yourself a whore for the night."

"Mary! There was no need for that. I'm sorry Mr. 
Spencer; she didn't mean anything by it."

"No problem lad. If your little lady wants to play the 
whore, I'm sure we can show her what the job entails."

The look on Gerry's face was classic. In some ways it 
was poetic justice, and just seeing that frightened 
expression was payback for his toadying to Graham. Then 
Graham said, "Don't look so worried lad. We'll bring 
her back in one piece, I'm sure her snatch will be able 
to cope with anything Peter and I have got in our 
trousers."

With that Graham's arm went around my back and settled 
on my bottom (on the outside of my dress), he then 
whisked me out of the house and down to the waiting 
car. The car was in fact a big stretched limo, and as 
he opened the door to the back, Peter was already 
seated inside. As I ducked my head to step inside, 
Graham slipped one hand up under the back of my skirt, 
and his fingers slid into contact with the lips of my 
pussy. As if this wasn't bad enough; before I had 
chance to attempt to pull myself off his hand by 
stepping quickly into the car; his other hand hooked 
over my shoulder, and he pulled, attempting to turn my 
head around. As he did so asking, "Aren't you going to 
give hubby a kiss before you go?"

Gerry had followed us down the path to the car and was 
stood just slightly behind and to one side of Graham. 
So as I turned my shoulder, Gerry lent forwards, and 
kissed me. It was obvious he must have been able to see 
where Graham had his other hand. Then as Graham loosed 
my shoulder, I stepped into the car and off his 
fingers. But as I looked back towards Gerry, Graham was 
shaking his hand (now wet with my pussy juices), "Don't 
worry lad. She'll be in safe hands with us."

And as he released Gerry's hand, I saw Gerry looking at 
his palm, and he even touched it with the fingers from 
his other hand; as if to be sure the sticky substance 
was what he had suspected.

I'd sat myself on the seat across the back of the car, 
alongside Peter, and as soon as Graham climbed in, he 
sat at the other side of me. As he reached out and 
pulled the door shut, the car began to move. In the 
back of this limo it was very spacious, but although 
there were other seats that could have been used, we 
three sat across the back seat together. Graham looked 
straight past me and asked, "What do you say now Pete."

"I don't know how you do it. I was convinced this 
afternoon that she wouldn't come across."

"Well she's just told her hubby she's gonna be our 
whore for the night. So I guess that means you'll get 
another stab at that little snatch you've been raving 
about."

I'd just sat there in between them saying nothing. Then 
Graham looked at me, "No comments from the little 
lady?"

"Don't keep teasing her. Come on Mary. Don't let him 
get to you. Just look on this as a kind of adventure or 
fantasy. Most of you girls have fantasies where you get 
to do things that as a respectable married woman you 
wouldn't do. Well now's your shot. What ever we do, I 
promise it won't be forced on you. Like earlier. We 
didn't force you, we maybe tricked you. Or even misled 
you. But you fucked, and at the time you loved it. It 
was only afterwards when you felt guilty that you got 
upset. Well your hubby knows you're with us, and he 
knows what for. So just let yourself have fun. If you 
want a few drinks first to loosen you up, that's ok. Or 
maybe you want to be wined-and-dined in a high class 
restaurant. The choice is yours. Come on now; let's see 
just a little smile to show we're not enemies."

I looked at him, and he did look genuine. Also a lot of 
what he said made sense. So even if somewhat 
begrudgingly, I did manage a little smile. And then I 
said, "I think I would like that little drink you 
mentioned."

Graham lent towards a cabinet and brought out a big 
champagne bucket with a bottle already being chilled.

"Bubbly ok?"

"Yes, I guess so."

Then Peter said, "I'm not trying to tell you what to 
do, and I have no problem with how much you drink. But 
if you're not used to that stuff, you'll take my advice 
and just stick to one or two glasses. If you want 
something to take the edge off your nerves, which won't 
make you sick or numb your senses, then just slip one 
of these in your first drink."

He was holding a little innocent looking yellow tablet.

"No thanks I don't do drugs."

"This won't get you high, and taking one tablet just 
this once won't get you hooked. But like I said, it 
will help you overcome your worries and shyness, 
without taking away any of the pleasures of the sex. If 
you try to do that with champers, then even if you 
don't throw-up, the sex will be just a blur."

I swallowed a mouthful from the glass Graham had just 
handed me, and after a mild coughing fit I replied, 
"Maybe that's the effect I'm trying to achieve."

"Please Mary. Don't be like that. This could all be 
something you could look back on as a wonderful 
memory."

I took another swig, but this time without the cough 
afterwards, "Wonderful? Getting raped by two strangers 
who my husband is in cahoots with."

"Honestly Pete, I don't know why you're bothering to 
make it easy for her. Her old mans given us the ok to 
fuck her. And she knows if she kicks up a fuss, I can 
get him sent down. So if she wants to get drunk and 
miss the fun, that'll just make it all the simpler for 
us to do what ever we want to her."

"Christ Graham, sometimes I don't know why I get 
involved with you. That kind of attitude makes me sick. 
I sometimes think you get more pleasure from the 
control thing than you do from the sex."

"I guess I do. You can get a fuck any day of the week 
for a few pounds. But when I've got a nice girl like 
this one who doesn't want to fuck, it makes it all the 
better knowing I can belittle her and make her my 
slave."

Peter looked into my eyes, and said quietly to me, 
"Don't let him beat you. That's all you'll achieve by 
getting drunk. Stay sober, and then take this little 
tablet to help you relax. That way you'll be in 
control, and I promise you won't get forced into 
anything."

I didn't reply, but I held my almost empty glass out 
towards him. Peter took the tablet from his pocket, and 
dropped it into my glass,

"Ok Graham; fill her glass."

Then he again looked into my eyes, "And make this your 
last."

"Yes master."

I said sarcastically. Then as Graham picked up on my 
meaning, he looked at Peter and said, "Now who's the 
control freak giving orders?"

Just at that moment the car stopped and the driver's 
voice came through the speaker system.

"Island Hotel. Do you want me to pull up to the front 
foyer?"

Graham lent across to a little grill on his side of the 
car, obviously the microphone.

"Right up to the front doors."

Then as he turned and looked back towards Peter and I, 
"I want to see how she handles being in the bright 
lights in public."

Peter again came to my defence, "You don't have to do 
this. If you want us to use the side entrance, we can 
take you straight up to our room without anybody seeing 
you."

Don't get me wrong, I didn't want to put myself on 
show, but it was like Peter had said earlier, and I 
felt if I chose to parade myself in this dress, then I 
would be lessening Graham's hold on me. I downed the 
last of the drink in my glass; complete with the now 
dissolved little yellow tablet, and then said, "Come on 
then big boy. Let's see who feels the more 
embarrassed?"

Graham climbed out and I followed him, Peter then 
stepped out alongside me.

Graham stood to one side and using his open palm said 
as he ushered me forwards, "Go on then, I'll walk a few 
paces behind you."

I gritted my teeth (metaphorically) and began to walk 
towards the big revolving doors. I hadn't taken the 
first step before I felt Peter's arm slipping around my 
back, and settling across my shoulder.

"Come on my dear. I think you look stunning, and I'm 
proud to have you on my arm."

I wanted to get one over on Graham, if only in a small 
way, and I guess you might think this was a stupid way 
to do it. But at the time I felt it was something that 
would show Graham he wasn't in control of my actions. 
But I'm not sure whether I'd have gone through with it 
without Peter's help. As it was, we waltzed into that 
hotel as though we owned it, and every eye was focused 
my way. Peter just guided me into the centre of the 
foyer, and a little of his air of superiority, must 
have rubbed off on me. Because as we stood there with 
what must have been more than twenty people all staring 
my way, he asked, "Straight to our room or would you 
like to dine first?"

"Well I haven't eaten yet."

Then contradicting my reply, Graham said, "To the room, 
we can always get something sent up."

But I ignored his words, and turned to Peter and said, 
"I'd love to be dined, even if I take your advice, and 
forget about the wine."

I could see Graham was uneasy about the attention my 
clothes were causing, or to be more precise, lack of 
clothes. But Peter was un-fazed, and he just escorted 
me past gob-smacked hotel guests, and into the plush 
restaurant. The head waiter who assigned the tables 
suggested a booth, I guess to get me out of the eyes of 
the rest of the diners. But Peter was having none of 
it, and he knew how to put underlings in their place. 
So it was we were seated right centre of the room, and 
that was where we were for the next hour and a half.

After what was the most expensive meal I'd ever had, we 
made our way to the room Graham had booked. For my 
part, this evening was turning out to be one of the 
most enjoyable I could ever remember. I think in hind 
sight, maybe a little of the euphoria was due to that 
little innocent looking yellow tablet. But what ever 
the reason, as Peter pointedly made a show of hanging 
the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the hotel room door; I 
could feel my tummy in full turmoil. And I don't mean I 
had stomach ache from the meal I'd just consumed.

So here was I, not in the same situation as earlier; 
resigned to accepting the task of wanking these men. 
No, this time I was eagerly waiting for the moment when 
they'd order me into the bedroom, and then they'd both 
fuck me. But to my frustration, Graham was busy looking 
at the telephone, and he asked Peter, "How do you make 
this work as a speaker phone?"

Peter walked across and took hold of the phone, and 
after flicking a switch on the underside, "I think that 
should work. Why who are you going to phone?"

"The match will be in the second half by now; it'll 
annoy the hell out of him to have to answer the phone."

"Match?"

"Yes her stupid husband will be watching the big match 
on TV. Hang-on I'll give him a call."

He dialled a number, "Here we are, it's ringing."

And as he was using the speaker, we could hear the 
ringing, and also Gerry's curt angry response as he 
picked up the phone.

"Hallo!"

"Are, Gerry lad. Mr. Spencer here."

"Oh sorry. I didn't know it was you."

"That's alright lad. I'm not disturbing anything, am 
I?"

"No, it's ok. Just the blues where looking like they'd 
make an equaliser. But what's happened. Is Mary ok?"

"Yes. She's fine; but things this end look like she 
might need to sweeten the pot a bit more than we first 
thought. Hang on I'll put her on the phone."

At that point he pressed the mute button, so Gerry 
wouldn't hear anything said at our end, "Ok girl. Ask 
him if he wants you to fuck both of us."

Although I'd already decided that was what I was here 
for, asking Gerry if he wanted me to do it seemed very 
awkward.

"Hello."

"Mary. Is everything ok?"

"Yes. But it looks like this man will only agree to 
Graham's deal if I let him go all the way."

"What? You mean fuck you?"

"Yes."

"What do you think?"

"It's up to you."

"You'd do it if I asked you?"

"Yes."

Then there was silence, it must have lasted nearly a 
minute. I began to think we'd been cut-off.

"Gerry? Are you still there?"

A very subdued voice came back, "Yes. I guess if it's 
the only way, and you don't mind; then the sooner you 
get it over with the better."

"Don't say things like that."

"Like what?"

"You said 'I don't mind'. I do mind; but I'll do it for 
you."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. Just do it, and 
then tell Mr. Spencer to bring you home."

"About Mr. Spencer."

"What about Mr. Spencer?"

"I'm getting signals from him, to say he wants to do me 
as well."

"Oh Jesus. This is getting silly."

"Do you want me to tell him no?"

"That would be even more stupid. If you let Mr. Harris 
fuck you and Mr. Spencer then says no deal, it will all 
have been for nothing."

"So I let him do it as well?"

"I guess so."

Graham took the phone from my hand, "Are Gerry lad. 
Your good lady has just told me your decision. And she 
says you've also offered to let me fuck her as well. 
That's very generous of you. Now you go back and watch 
the rest of your match, and we'll make sure your little 
lady gets well looked after. Oh, and don't bother to 
wait up, it might be late when we get her back home. 
And you wouldn't want to be late for work in the 
morning."

As he put the phone down and turned back towards Peter 
and I, with a big satisfied smile on his face, Peter 
said, "You're a twisted sod. You'll get more pleasure 
from that little wind-up than you will out of the rest 
of the night."

"Maybe so; but each to his own. Now Mary love; I think 
it's about time you made your way to the bedroom."

As I was walking into the bedroom followed by these two 
men, my sexual senses began to go wild. As every step I 
took gave my breasts an almost imperceptible bounce, 
something you'd not normally be aware of; I could feel 
my nipples being rubbed by the material of my dress. 
But more than this, was the turmoil going on down 
below. 

On many occasions before, I have been sexually excited 
whilst walking into a room knowing I was about to have 
sex, maybe the most memorable being when Gerry and I 
went away for a dirty weekend six weeks before our 
wedding. But I can never before remember feeling my 
pussy pouting, and feeling the wetness as it actually 
started to run down the tops of my legs. I didn't feel 
ashamed of my heightened state of arousal, just worried 
that the men behind me might see the glistening sheen 
appearing.

As soon as I neared the bed, I stopped and turned 
around, and before either of them had chance to speak, 
I knelt and began to loosen their trousers. They at 
first looked a little surprised at my eagerness, but 
they didn't complain and almost immediately began to 
strip their top half. In no time my mouth was sucking 
from one cock and back to the other, whilst my hands 
had a balls-sack apiece. They had released the shoulder 
straps from my dress, and it had just slipped to the 
floor where it lay in a crumpled heap around my knees. 

They played with my breasts, and my nipples felt fit to 
burst. But the sensations powered buy the cock sucking 
coupled with the breast fondling, had now driven my 
pussy to a point where I could no longer ignore it.

As I rose to my feet, the dress remained in a heap on 
the floor, and my hands slipped the meagre thong from 
my waist, letting it join the dress. Then as I launched 
myself back onto the bed, and spread my legs wide, I 
begged, "Fuck me. For god's sake, fuck me."

My arms were outstretched with open palms, and I 
couldn't feel a morsel of shame. Graham and Peter 
looked at one another, as if in amazement, and then as 
if deciding who would be first. But either way, from 
the point at which I'd begged for a fucking, until the 
moment Peter's cock entered my pussy couldn't have been 
more than five seconds.

He mounted me, and even with his cock being bigger than 
my Gerry's by a good two inches, my pussy not only took 
it, it almost ate it! I'm sure it sucked it in, and 
with the help of my reflex hip humping, I fucked him as 
hard as he fucked me. I was eventually aware Graham was 
around my top end, pushing his cock to my lips, and I 
did attempt to suck it, but my body just wanted pussy 
treats, and I found the cock in my mouth a distraction.

Then Peter rolled over onto his back, and I followed 
his lead, mounting him and riding myself hard down onto 
his shaft. It was now somewhat easier to suck Graham's 
cock, as I was the right way up for him to push it into 
my mouth without Peter's head being in the way. And 
speaking of Peter, he now started to enhance my 
exhilaration, by reaching down and rubbing my clit. 
This manipulation didn't confine itself to just my 
clit, he was soon sliding his fingers around my bulging 
pussy lips, and up into the crevice of my bottom. 

I think most people will consider this naive, but I'd 
never done anal, and at this point, I never even 
thought that this massaging might be a fore runner to 
my initiation. Silly me, I just felt the fingers as 
they poked, stroked and probed, and thought this was 
the greatest turn-on I'd ever known. As I've just said, 
I knew they were probing, but as he did it so 
gradually, in minutely increasing steps, even when I 
eventually realised he'd got his finger up to full 
depth, it didn't faze me.

Then he whispered in my ear, "I'm almost there; can I 
finish you doggy style?"

I felt flattered that he'd even asked, and I just 
lifted myself up off him, and moved to his side, 
stopping the same way up. He got up from below me, and 
as he came up behind, he began to rub his cock up and 
down the wet valley. As I felt his cock was about to 
line up with my pussy, I heaved back, wrapping my pussy 
around his shaft. He lunged forwards, and after just a 
couple of thrusts, he pulled it out, again resuming his 
stroking of my valley with his knob-end. 

Then I felt him push at my bottom. It was a funny 
feeling. Not funny ha ha, but different. I can't say it 
hurt, because my whole body was relaxed, and my bottom 
was so wet and juicy from his fingering. But as the big 
bulbous head of his cock slipped in, I felt my ring 
close and grip his shaft, as if to say, 'you're not 
coming in here'. My first thoughts were, 'he's slipped 
in the wrong place by mistake'. But instead of pulling 
it back out, I felt him grip my hair. Then as he pushed 
slowly into my bottom, I felt everything stretching. Oh 
my god! I don't know if it was good or bad. It hurt, 
but it wasn't really hurting. Oh I can't explain 
exactly. I wanted him to stop, but my pussy was 
revelling in the sensations it was now going through. 

He didn't stop, and I didn't struggle or fight. And 
although he kept hold of my hair, it wasn't needed to 
keep me in place. As he thrust his long strokes deep 
into my bottom, I sensed he was nearing his climax. 
Then as his pumping moved to his erratic cum strokes, 
my hips spasmed like they had done earlier today on the 
video I'd seen. And like this afternoon, I lost my 
conscious control and memory. I came to my senses, 
lying on my side, with Graham lying behind me. One of 
his hands was on my breast, just gently working from 
one breast to the other, but his other hand was gently 
stroking my fore head.

At this moment of awakening, I didn't know who it was 
that I was laying with, and as I turned, to see 
Graham's smiling face, he asked, "Are you ok?"

"Yes."

He pulled his arm from underneath me, and then turned 
me fully onto my back. As he lay alongside, propped up 
on one arm he asked, "Is it ok if I try to arouse you 
now, or do you need a rest?"

I know this sex session was being forced upon me, but 
this man had such an approach, it made me want to 
please him.

"Yes, you can take your turn now."

He planted a kiss on my mouth, and our tongues 
intertwined. His hand was first caressing my breast, 
but slowly it worked its way down my body. His fingers 
stroking my torso, as he worked down over my tummy. As 
they neared my pubic mound the turmoil I'd being 
feeling in my tummy just a few minutes earlier, was 
once again bubbling. In anticipation of his fingers 
slipping into my crotch, I let my legs fold open, and 
lifted my crotch up, as if to invite him. His hand did 
slip down, but not to my pussy, his fingers ran through 
the juices in the hollows at the tops of my legs, and 
then he proceeded to stroke the inside of the top half 
of my legs.

He moved himself down to my lower half, his mouth and 
tongue following the same route his fingers had just 
travelled. As his mouth firsts glided up my left 
breast, I felt my body shiver with anticipation, and 
then as his mouth latched onto my nipple, my hips 
lifted. He sucked for what seemed like an age, his 
tongue circling my nipple and all the time he was 
sucking, I had my weight supported by my heels and 
shoulders, with my knees open, and crotch spread high 
and wide. The fingers of his hand were still stroking 
my legs, and my pussy was burning with desire for 
attention. I reached one of my hands down to my crotch, 
but he used his other hand to intercept mine.

"Ah ah. That pussy is mine. You can play with it any 
time you want. If you want something to occupy your 
hands, my cock is getting lonely."

I didn't answer, but I did reach for his cock, and 
attempt to stroke it. But with my body in this position 
it wasn't so easy. He had now moved to my right breast, 
and he was repeating his sucking. As he did so, my hips 
which had dropped back to the bed, once again rose, as 
his sucking sent wave after wave of exhilarating 
sensations to my crotch. As he moved from my breast I 
again dropped to the bed, and his tongue made its next 
stop, this time at my bellybutton. This he circled, and 
then with a parting kiss, he moved over the flatlands 
of my tummy, and climbed my hairless mound.

As his lips parted to encircle my clit, I heaved up and 
he brought his hands one under each buttock. His 
sucking, licking and probing just sent my body crazy, 
and it was only by holding himself tightly to my crotch 
that he managed to stay in contact. Not that I was in 
any way trying to kick him off, but his stimulation had 
taken away any conscious control. I couldn't even 
attempt to work his cock, I just lay back with my hips 
going wild, and my mind blown away. The next thing I 
was conscious of was he had now moved into a position 
in between my legs, and his cock was entering my pussy.

As he pushed it up inside, his body loomed over the top 
of me, and his head came down. He first gave me a kiss, 
and I responded, with our tongues both probing deep. I 
could tell he was pushing his cock in to its full 
length, but it was also obvious, his cock was no bigger 
than my Gerry's, which meant a good two inches shorter 
than Peter's. But this fuck wasn't like Peter's had 
been, an onslaught, or invasion of new territory, this 
was more like love, or at least romance. It felt nice, 
warm and safe. We lay in each others arms, fucking and 
kissing, all the time my arousal just gradually 
building.

Then he lifted his head from mine, and as he half sat 
back, he took hold of my legs below my knees, lifting 
them up and pressing them back to the bed alongside my 
body. His cock slipped from my pussy, and it began to 
push at my bottom. As it slipped in, and he began to 
ram it deep, he brought his head back down, but this 
time he went to my breasts. As he fucked, I knew he 
would soon be shooting spunk, and as he began to nip at 
my nipples, my pussy again started to spasm. I was 
conscious of his warm cum in my bottom, and then the 
overload of my own sensations just took me to a higher 
plain, where I drifted in the clouds.

As I came back to the reality of my situation, Graham 
was busy packing his camera and all its accessories 
into his little bag. Peter was nowhere to be seen.

"Please tell me you didn't take photos of me whilst 
Peter was... doing it?"

"Photos! The camera has been running from start to 
finish. Mind you, your first fuck with Peter won't be 
that good; we didn't have a camera-man. But Peter took 
over for my fuck, so he'll have got some good close-
ups. Not just of your snatch, but that goggle-eyed 
expression while you were cumming."

I never for one moment thought they'd been doing 
something like that. Then just as I'm turning over the 
thought of what he has captured on his video camera, 
Peter comes waltzing out of the shower-room. Totally 
naked, and as he walks past Graham and the bed where I 
lay, he says, "Shower's free if you want it."

I looked at Graham, as if to ask if he wanted to be 
next, but didn't actually speak. He put down his camera 
bag, and as he turned and walked towards the shower, 
"Ok, I won't take long."

Then he glanced over towards where Peter was now 
getting dressed.

"Keep your eye on my camera; I don't want her getting 
any silly ideas about erasing that last file."

Peter didn't reply, but he looked my way, and just 
smiled.

I sat there, not able to do anything about my messy 
state; but give Graham his due, it was only a few 
minutes before he to was, walking naked back into the 
room. I walked, or should I say waddled my way to the 
shower room; and it felt so good to wash off all that 
now stale remnants of their session. I came from the 
shower-room draped in a towel, and sat myself in front 
of the mirror. I'd only had about five or ten minutes 
to try to do something with my face and hair before 
Graham was standing up behind me.

"How much longer are you going to be?"

I didn't know exactly what the time was, but I knew it 
couldn't be gone mid-night. And he'd told Gerry he 
wouldn't be bringing me home until late; so I was 
wondering what his hurry was.

"What's the rush, you told Gerry I'd be home late?"

"Who says were taking you home? I know a little club we 
can go to, somewhere you can show off in that little 
dress."

"Oh no. I'd rather go straight home now."

"I wasn't asking you. Now hurry up with your tarting-
up, we want to get going."

So I made the final touches to my make-up, got my hair 
somewhere near tidy, and then went and picked up my 
dress. Within a few minutes of Graham's hurry-up call, 
we were leaving the hotel, and climbing back into the 
big limo. As we were being driven to the club, Graham 
began to explain what kind of club it was.

Continued in part 2...

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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 55