Mulray dropped him off at the door of his building, showing off her ability to drive on the pedestrianized quayside, since she was driving a police vehicle. Even if she did not mean it consciously, it was a nod to the power of her badge at a time when she was trying to persuade him to bring his own personal investigation into his brother’s death to a halt.
“You’ve done your part,” she was saying as they crawled along tiles meant only for walking, heading towards the base of the glass-fronted tower, 1 West India Quay. “You’ve shown us that it’s worth investigating this website, and whether it’s linked to these killings. Now leave the rest to us.”
Jonah didn’t want to lie to the beautiful dark-haired detective and tell her he’d stop pursuing the killer, but he really didn’t want to comply with her demand to stop, either.
She looked at him a moment, switching off the engine once they’d drawn up outside the building front door. “It’s dangerous, you know that?” she said, and her genuine concern warmed Jonah a little, stirring up his crush on her, though he knew he could not have her.
“If what you’re saying about that website is true, then your use of it puts you right in the firing line for the Black Widow.”
“I’d hope so,” he said, his tone sounding brave, though in reality it was only so relaxed because he was accepting that DI Mulray was out of his reach, would forever remain merely a crush.
“Well, at least promise me one thing,” she said.
“What would that be?”
“Don’t go looking into Julian Foster’s account on that website.”
Jonah felt crushed. That was his only lead with any real potential.
Before he could answer, Mulray said quietly: “You realize as soon as I give that username and password to our IT team, they’ll be all over it like a rash?”
“I’d hope so.”
“But if you access that account, best case scenario you would just throw up a load of rogue evidence that somebody would have to spend time looking into,” she said. “Worst case? Some try-hard DI would link you to Julian Foster, and even if you weren’t suspected of murder, you might be charged with obstructing justice.”
Jonah nodded. The implication, of course, was also there that if Jonah was charged with obstructing justice, Mulray herself could be disciplined for knowing about his meddling, and perhaps even for encouraging it, although her actions had been necessary to uncover the details of Julian Foster’s website account.
He paused, not quite knowing what to say.
Mulray said softly: “Just give us a little time. If our detectives can’t find anything through that account, maybe they’ll be open to someone else taking a look…”
“I doubt that,” he said, feeling defeated, frustrated, but finding it hard to be angry at Mulray for the pure logic of her request.
“I’ll see what I can do – I’ll see if there’s any information I can get hold of from the account,” she said, genuine concern in her face, and also perhaps a hint of appreciation that he was actively trying to assist the investigation.
Jonah nodded, accepting her deal.
He joked: “Hey, if you want my help getting information out of any of the other victims’ wives, you just let me know.”
“I might take you up on that offer, you know,” she smiled. Then her attention was distracted. “Hey, who’s the blonde?”
Jonah looked over to where she was looking, and could see Emma leaning against the wall by the door of his building, looking a trifle annoyed until she caught sight of him in the car, whereupon her whole demeanor brightened into a pretty smile.
“A friend,” he said, trying not to visibly react to Emma’s exceedingly short black skirt, which appeared to be made of netting or some kind, showing plenty of smooth thigh.
Nevertheless, Mulray raised her eyebrows suggestively.
Now it was Jonah’s turn to sigh, thinking that she must think him the worst kind of rogue, though up until he’d started using the No Strings website, he’d been the next best thing to a monk.
“She’s just helping me figure all this out,” he said, then realized that particular explanation might refer to all manner of seedy things. He had to concede, however, that he had done all manner of seedy things recently. Probably not good for his crush to find out.
He said: “She’s helping me with my… research.”
“Helping you meddle,” Mulray nodded, her judgmental tone appearing to be reserved more for his attempt at getting involved in the murder investigation than his associating with blondes in short skirts.
Jonah reached for the handle to open the car door, and as he pulled it, Mulray said: “Well, just be careful, Jonah. If you are going to continue with that website.”
He paused, more than a little taken by her use of his Christian name.
“I can do that much,” he said, offering her a parting smile before hauling himself out of the vehicle.
Emma hesitated a moment as Mulray drove slowly away, as though she was afraid she’d interrupted something. Then as Jonah turned to her, she suddenly rushed him, throwing herself at him as though it had been forever since she’d seen him. It had been a few days, sure enough, but still.
She said: “I’ve been calling you and texting – what the hell, mister?”
Jonah hugged her back, but slipped his hand in his pocket to retrieve his phone, which appeared to have long since run past its battery life. He showed her the dead piece of plastic, and she gave him a playful swat on the cheek.
“You have to keep in communicado,” she said, now taking him by the hand to lead him inside the building. “What if you got in trouble, one of your dates turned out to actually be the killer?”
“I suppose so,” he nodded, suitably chastised.
There was a cool early morning breeze blowing in off the river, and Jonah now ushered them inside to shelter from it. He was feeling seriously tired after the night’s activity, and the trek across town at such an unholy hour.
“Who was she? From the website?” Emma asked. “She’s pretty.”
The young blonde led the way inside, past a concierge who seemed to find it difficult to cover up his interest in Emma’s short skirt, and into the elevator.
“Police detective. I was… helping her, you know, answering a few questions about the case.”
“And she gave you a lift home personally? Very nice,” Emma’s eyes flashed, but now the elevator doors opened, and Jonah simply stepped past her, inside.
“What are you even doing here this time of day?” Jonah demanded as they ascended to the 22nd floor. “I thought you were a student.”
“What makes you think I’m a student?” She gave him a look of mock-offense.
“I guess I just got that impression when you were with your friends in the bar the other night.”
She shrugged, “Well, I am a student. But we students don’t sleep into the afternoons these days, you know, even at weekends. Not now we have to pay so much for tuition.”
Jonah chuckled, “For some reason I can’t picture you as a bookworm.”
Having already been surprised at her appearance so early on a Saturday morning, Jonah was doubly surprised on the way up when she announced that she’d lined up a lunch meeting for him for that day.
“You did want some help speeding up your dating process, right?”
“Right. But a lunch meeting?”
In truth, Jonah was a little impressed that Emma had followed through on a declaration he thought had been mainly in jest. She truly did seem to want to be his personal assistant on this bizarre quest for justice. What was her motivation? Simply that it was fun to track down one night stands for him?
“You said you wanted married women,” she said as they reached the 22nd floor. “I have found you married women – but this one wants a lunch date first.”
Jonah paused before entering the code on the keypad to open the front door to Nate’s flat, and Emma noticed his hesitation. She said: “You did say Nate had a preference for married – “
“I did,” he interrupted her, and now tapped in the code. “I just don’t much like the idea of actually… you know… getting involved in someone’s marriage.”
Emma said: “It’s them that’s taking the decision to step outside their marriage, you know. Nothing to do with you.”
“But you don’t have to worry about all that this time.”
“And how is that?”
“Because this one says her husband wants her to sleep with other men.”
“Kinky.” Jonah felt his ears burn – this was just like Julian and Lily. Was this whole consensual infidelity thing that common? Jonah felt that it needed further investigation – if Nate did indeed have a preference for married women, there was a chance he’d been party to this kind of kink.
“Well, I figured you might not be comfortable wrecking someone’s marriage this early in your online dating experience,” Emma said, and Jonah supposed it made sense.
It was uncanny how he’d been finding out about just such an arrangement between Lily and her deceased husband, and now Emma was getting him involved in a similar set-up.
Jonah dropped his jacket on the coat stand as Emma dumped her backpack on one of the white couches, and felt instantly more relaxed being back in Nate’s apartment. He was going to miss this place when that useless estate agent finally got it sold. For now, he felt the call of bed.
Emma followed him through to the bedroom, not questioning his need to pull off his clothes and collapse into the inviting warmth of the duvet. But she breezed on past him in a cloud of coconut-scented perfume, and into the bathroom.
“So what happened with you last night? You gonna tell me?” she asked him.
“Oh, yeah. I suppose.” He wondered if he should keep Lilly’s secrets to himself, but if Emma was going to help him on this investigation, there was no point in keeping her in the dark about anything. “I met one of the other relatives. The widow of one of the other murder victims, the one before Nate.”
Emma walked out of the bathroom now wearing only a pair of turquoise lace panties, her bare nipples stiff in the chilled air, heading back to the main living room area of the apartment. Voice raised, she said: “And did she tell you her husband was using the same website as Nate?”
Jonah nodded, “Pretty much. She said she had a strong feeling he was.”
“So why didn’t she tell the police?”
“She’s a journalist. She’s worried the story’ll get leaked to the press, and that will be the end of her reputation.”
“They used to use the website – or one just like it – together. A few years ago.”
“Hmm. Swingers, huh? So this woman you’re seeing today, she’s a bit like this woman you met last night, that what you’re thinking?”
“Or something like it,” Jonah said. “Though I’m not sure how it all fits in with how Julian – her husband – and my brother was killed.”
Emma returned to the bedroom area with her laptop, firing it up as she approached the bed. “This woman you saw – did she have any idea what her husband’s username and password might have been?”
Jonah shifted to make room for her on the bed. “She did. But I promised the detective I wouldn’t try it out.”
“You did what?”
He shrugged. “She said the police would now be crawling all over it – if I went snooping around in there, they’d spot my IP address, or the IP address where I accessed it. Even if they didn’t think I was connected to the crime, she said it could still mess up the evidence if I try.”
“That sucks. Could have told us a load of stuff to help our search.”
Jonah smiled at her use of the word “our”. It seemed that he hardly knew Emma, but with precious few friends in London, it was nice to have company – and a little assistance on his search for Nate’s killer was wonderful.
He said: “You’re pretty good at all this. Organizing things, I mean.”
She smiled. “Maybe I want to be a personal assistant when I’m done getting a degree,” she said.
“An actual personal assistant?”
She chuckled, “It’s one option for bagging a rich husband, you know. That’s my real aim in life.”
Now it was Jonah’s turn to laugh. “Well I assume you won’t be hanging around me for long, then.”
“For you, I’ll make an exception,” she said, laying her laptop down on the floor before turning back to him with fire in her eyes. “Especially the way you make me feel with that tongue of yours.”
“So how does this get me closer to the murderer again?” he asked, as they walked out across the cobbled piazza of Covent Garden.
It was just gone 12.30pm, and thankfully the day had warmed up a little. The sun had broken through the overcast sky, and now bathed the tourists and market traders in a beneficial light.
“You wanted married women, didn’t you? I got you a married woman.”
He rolled his eyes. “A woman who wants to meet with a guy for lunch first, before she decides on a date – how is she the Black Widow?”
“Maybe she’s just playing a role,” Emma said. “Getting you off guard. Getting you to trust her so you’ll let your guard down – and then she strikes. Didn’t they say it was potentially a second date, these murders? Not a first date.”
“I suppose so. I can always say ‘no’ to her. If it all seems pointless.”
“So then. Plus – don’t you think it’s exciting? Something different.” Emma gave him a wink, and he wasn’t sure what aspect of it was exciting to her.
But then it was up to him to go on ahead. He walked up the stairs, having never even known there was a second floor to the Covent Garden market. Yet here it was, and a strangely elegant restaurant it housed, too. A concierge took his jacket and passed him on to a young waitress who escorted him out onto a terrace overlooking the piazza.
There was a lone female sitting at a table nicely apart from others – not that there were many diners in here at this time.
She was young – seemed too young to be married and already looking for extramarital excitement. Perhaps 23 or 24 at most. Pretty. Blue eyes, girlish freckles. Her dirty-blonde hair was tied back in a loose but high ponytail that gave her an air of confidence, with loose bangs draping over her forehead to be tucked behind her ears.
She was wearing a sleeveless white button-down blouse, of which the top few buttons were unfastened, revealing a little more pale flesh than perhaps she was used to showing.
It seemed clear to Jonah she was not as confident as her appearance on the surface might have suggested. Her eyes gave away her anxiety.
“Hello,” he said. “I’m Robert.”
“Uh… hi. Bethany.”
She stood, and reached out to offer him an awkward hand to shake. Not knowing how formal to be. Jonah was slightly amused – this was a lunch date where the possibility of sleeping with this young woman was on the table. And she was shaking his hand as a greeting? Well, he didn’t need to go through with this particular encounter. He felt it wasn’t going to add much to the investigation.
It actually made him relax. She was pretty in a very girl-next-door kind of way, fresh, well-spoken. And her nervousness endeared her to him. He felt there was no need for any of this. It took a certain amount of the pressure off Jonah. But, as it turned out, she had an interesting story to tell, particularly in light of what he’d learned about Lily and Julian Foster.
Bethany had only recently learned of her husband’s fantasies, that he imagined her sleeping with other men. It had shocked her massively, stumbling over his Internet browser history, finding all the erotic stories he’d been reading about guys sharing their wives.
“I thought I knew him better than he knew himself,” she sighed, flashing a self-deprecating smile. She had a faint blush in her cheeks at talking about all this, which only enhanced her beauty.
“Everyone has their secrets,” Jonah said, feeling the need to reassure her.
She nodded. It seemed she had a lot to get off her chest – but with something difficult like this, it was hardly something you could talk about with friends or family. Jonah was probably the first person she’d spoken with about any of this, other than her husband. Jonah suddenly felt a responsibility towards her wellbeing.
“I guess things cooled off for us in the bedroom,” she said. “You know how it is – familiarity makes it all seem routine, and then add in a little stress at work, family commitments – we were too tired, like, all the time. And it just kind of faded.”
“It happens a lot. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“You’re not married?”
“No, I’m not. But I know plenty of people in your situation.” Not 23 or 24, though, he thought.
Bethany nodded again, reassured. “I mean, I’ve thought about other men, you know, every now and then. But it’s just fantasy, isn’t it? The Twilight books, or the Vampire Academy books, or Jace from the Mortal Instrument books. They’re just make-believe. And I guess there was a couple of guys I might have imagined being with, you know, having an affair. Just because it seemed like Richie hasn’t been interested for a while.”
Richie being the husband.
“And then I discover this fantasy of his – and it kind of blew me out of the water, you know? I mean he wants me to have sex with another man. Wow.”
“It’s not something society really talks about,” Jonah said. “Women aren’t supposed to sleep around – and husbands aren’t supposed to allow their wives to sleep around.”
“No. But I see women at work in boring marriages, or the ones going through messy divorce cases, and I think how unhappy I am that we don’t have sex much at all any more, either. And I think – that could actually be me, you know?”
“But your husband is different.”
“He is. But it doesn’t make any sense.”
Bethany paused as the waiter came over to take their order, and Jonah realized he’d been riveted to the spot by her tale. It was fascinating, hearing about these unconventional relationships. Almost made Jonah wish he was married, so he could experiment in an unconventional relationship himself.
He ordered a glass of red wine – well, he didn’t have work to worry about – and a plate of lasagne. Bethany ordered an apple juice and a caesar salad.
As soon as the coast was clear again, she continued: “At first, I thought he was just suggesting this so I’d eventually let him have a threesome or something with another woman. But he said he’s not interested in other women.”
Jonah nodded. “There are guys who just get off on watching their loved ones taking pleasure in the arms of other people,” he said. “But they remain completely monogamous themselves.”
“It just seems completely crazy,” Bethany said, her forehead wrinkling up as she expressed her bafflement at her husband’s fantasy.
“But you are now contemplating… trying it out?” Jonah asked.
“I want to make him happy,” she said. “And if this is his burning fantasy, I want to see if this is really what he wants to do in reality.”
The waiter returned with their drinks, and in an attempt to present a perfectly ordinary picture of a first lunch date to the waiter, Jonah asked her about her job. She worked at a law firm in the City as a paralegal, as it happened. The waiter didn’t seem bothered to listen in on the conversation.
“We talked a lot,” she said as the waiter withdrew, “and I did a lot of reading on the Internet. There really are a lot of guys like this, you know.”
“It’s just weird – that he might get just as much sexual satisfaction from my encounters with other men as I do myself. And want me even more afterwards.”
Jonah saw her blush deepen. He suspected she was open to the idea of sleeping with other men, if only her own guilt could be assuaged.
“You probably just need to take it really slowly,” he advised her. “Baby steps. Make a little move forward – and then see if he’s still happy about it all. Then you can afford to take another step forward. Don’t jump in with two feet, straight into an affair.”
Bethany nodded, and sighed, and seemed even to relax a little. Her eyes flickered as they trailed around his face, shuffled down to attempt a subtle assessment of his figure. The standard online dating review of the goods, he’d seen it all before.
She said: “That’s exactly what I want to do – but finding a guy who can be patient with me… well.”
She shifted in her seat, and he realized he could see the hint of white lace that was part of her bra, just visible where her shirt opened.
She was a cute young woman, that was for sure. Pixieish, a touch willowy, perhaps, but so sweet.
“I’m sure any guy would be delighted to be patient with you,” he said warmly, then as her face betrayed her timid curiosity, he added: “if you were interested in seeing me again, I’d certainly be only too happy to take as much time as you’d like.”
So much for saying ‘no’ to her. His heart filled with pity for her – he wanted to take care of her, take her under his wing. Help her.
“Thank you,” she said. “I… I’m afraid I don’t even have any experience of online dating or anything.”
Jonah smiled. “I’ve not been doing it long myself. You get used to it.”
“Do you know what kind of thing your husband is interested in?” he asked her.
“How d’you mean?”
“Well, has he said anything about whether his fantasy involves you going off and meeting guys alone, without him involved, or if he wants to be there, to watch you?”
“I… I’m not sure. I guess maybe he might want to watch.”
“And what would you prefer?”
“I don’t know… I guess I’d feel less guilty if he was there. If I could see this was what he wanted me to do. Does it freak you out, the thought of my husband being there?”
“No,” Jonah said, only in reality, he had no idea. Would he be able to perform in the presence of an audience? A male audience, the husband, at that. “But I guess you’ve got to find out what works for you. Is he watching right now?”
Jonah glanced around the restaurant, spotted Emma sitting on her own by the bar, but no other obvious lurkers observing their table.
“No. I’m just out on my lunch break,” she said. “He knows I’m doing this today – but he trusts me.”
“That’s good. It’s all about trust.”
“He said whatever happens is my choice, I’m in control.”
The waiter brought their food. Jonah’s lasagne was light, Italian rather than English lasagne, with very little meat. Bethany’s salad was also fairly light.
“And what did you say to him?”
She smiled, “That today, I just wanted to meet you. See if I might want to take things further. If we would want to take things further.”
“I think I do – if you’re interested.”
They ate relatively quickly, Jonah finding that after being so open and candid with Lily, he actually wanted to get back into the swing of being ‘Robert’ again, his City-boy persona. As they talked about life and trivial things while finishing up their light lunches, he wove stories about his City life, the vacuous existence that saw him looking for cheap thrills by going on one night stands and the occasional longer-term fling.
“So why did you pick me for this?” he asked her. “Out of all the men on that website. Must have been dozens interested. Hundreds.”
“Richie picked you,” she said. “Or at least, he picked a few, and I decided on you out of the five he said he’d be okay with.”
“So why me?”
“You’re good-looking,” she blushed again. “Richie said the guys he’d picked out were less threatening to him.”
“How d’you mean, less threatening?”
She finished chewing on a piece of lettuce, then said: “We had a big row when he first told me about this. I mean – I was shocked. I thought he wanted out of the marriage, he didn’t love me any more. I thought maybe even that he was having an affair himself, and this was him trying to either justify it, or break up with me to go off with someone else. But then I told him to give me time, and leave me with his laptop, and I looked at what had been getting him off, what he’d been reading, at the pictures he looked at.”
Jonah said. “You’re quite the detective.”
She smiled. “It was kind of fun, actually. Seeing things he liked, things that turned him on but that he could never tell me about before, for whatever reason. It was quite shocking, I guess, but the stories he read, the videos he downloaded – there was quite a clear theme to them.”
“It made you feel better, seeing them?”
She shrugged. “I felt I understood him. The stories especially – explained a little of the psychology behind this. I guess after a while, it made me happier – he really was interested in the stories where the husband is monogamous, he just gets off on his wife’s pleasure, his wife playing with new guys. But there was definitely a thing about the new guys – they were not the kind of guys looking to take the wife away from her husband, or form any kind of romantic bond.”
“He doesn’t want you to fall for someone else.”
“No, just have sex with them. I think the guys he chose were ones who are really up for no-strings sex, you know? I guess you’re this big City trader, so there’s this stereotype that you sleep with a lot of women…”
“I suppose that’s probably true enough,” Jonah said, playing up to her need for reassurance. “Most women don’t like to hear about it, though. You know, I have another date tonight?”
“You do? With someone like me?”
“A little different.”
“But you have been with married women before?”
“Yeah. They’re usually the hottest ones,” he chuckled to conceal his bluff, his suggestion he’d been with plenty of married women. “They’re so keen, so sexual. So beautiful.”
She smiled, looked down demurely. When she looked up again, straight in his eyes, she looked quite serious, said: “Do you think my marriage is going to crumble, Robert?”
He shook his head. “As long as you communicate – every step of the way – you’ll be okay. Don’t keep anything from him – what you do, what you talk about, what you even think when you’re not with him.”
“Because the thrill for him is knowing what’s going on, that you’re being so sexual, and that it’s making you feel great.” Jonah was impressed at how expert he seemed. Merely from putting himself in the shoes of Julian when he’d been with Lily.
Would he really be able to cope if he had a wife as lovely as Bethany, and she was with another man?
Then Jonah added: “And the most important thing is to enjoy yourself – if you’re not, your husband’s fantasy collapses.”
“I guess so,” she laughed, a pretty soprano laugh.
“And then when you return to your husband, make sure you show him a lot of attention – tell him everything, and make him your lover again.”
He escorted her out of the restaurant, past Emma and down the stairs to ground level. Then she gave him that awkward look again, not sure how to leave things.
She said: “Would you mind if… if I kissed you?”
Jonah felt a slight tingle in his nether regions. She really did look so pretty with that gentle blush.
“‘Course not,” he said softly, and stepped closer to her.
Being fairly petite, she had to stretch up, but then her mouth was on his, her arms pulling her tight against him, her lips so sweet. Tentative, nervous to start with, and then she relaxed as he gave her space, allowed her to lead, let her gently suck on his lips, delve the tip of her tongue in his mouth.
Her hands went to his head, pulling him to her, the passion beginning to flow – they definitely had chemistry.
It was when her eyes flicked to the side briefly, quite obviously checking something out some distance away, that Jonah realized her husband, Richie, had to have been watching them. He might not have been in the restaurant observing their meal, but he’d seen the kiss. Jonah found himself curious as to how Richie felt about this.
“Oh, my,” she said, gazing in his eyes and beaming broadly at him as they finally broke apart.
“You think he’s going to be okay with this?” Jonah asked her.
“Yes, I do. But I’ll be in touch.” Then, as she backed up to begin walking over towards the Jubilee Market Hall, where presumably her husband was waiting for her in among the market stalls where he could not be detected, she said: “Nice meeting you, Robert!”
“Aren’t you supposed to go that way?”
Jonah was leaning over the sink in the bathroom, dragging a razor up under his jaw, as Emma slumped herself down on the slate-tiled floor beside him.
“You know, down the face,” she said.
“Are you saying you know better than a guy how to shave a guy’s face?” Jonah laughed.
“So did I do good? Trying you out with Bethany?”
He nodded. “It was a little strange – you know, talking to her about maybe having sex some time, and her husband is going to know about all of it.”
“Kinda hot,” Emma said, sitting back on the closed toilet, trailing her fingers along the insides of her thighs. “So you think you’ll do it? Even if he wants to watch?”
“I might,” he said. “I mean, I feel like I want to help them. And if Nate did have a thing for married women, I like to think he’d go for this kind of set-up. I think I learned a few things with Bethany.”
Emma blurted out: “You don’t shave like that! I have brothers – I’ve seen them do it.”
“Gives you a closer shave this way.”
“Seriously. Why would you need such a close shave? It’s already late. Not like you’re going to get five o’clock shadow.” She looked blank a moment, as though distracted by the bulge he presented under the towel hanging from his waist. Then she looked up at him, a glimmer of mild shock flickering through her eyes before she said: “Oh.”
He paused mid-stroke, razor just hanging there, and he glanced down to see if she was quietly judging him. She wasn’t – her eyes seemed glazed as she looked off into some imagined distance, dreaming, biting her lip distractedly. She looked cute, imagining the reasons for his extra close shave, sitting there in her white-and-navy patterned tank top and crimson satin panties – but he had to keep his focus away from her for now.
“Did she tell you to?” she asked as he resumed shaving.
“No. She doesn’t tell me a lot, actually.”
“But she’s a dominatrix?”
“She dominates. I’m not sure if she’s a dominatrix. I don’t think I’ve ever really met one of those.”
Emma lifted her arm, her hand reaching for his bulge, fingers splaying out over the towel to trace out his shape.
“So you’re just doing it unasked? Just in case. You really want to impress her, huh?”
“Jealous?” he chuckled, though he knew she wasn’t. She couldn’t be, the amount of help she was giving him setting up more Internet dates.
“You wish,” she joked, and part of him was a touch sad that she wasn’t. Emma was a catch, but he’d come to accept that she was too young for anything serious. She was just enjoying life, enjoying a wide ride. She said: “You think she’ll want to do it in the car park again?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. She’s asked me to meet her at the same restaurant as last time.”
She was stroking him through the towel, and it felt nice, only improved by the sight of her left knee drifting up, exposing her panties a little more to his occasional glances. Only, then as he was doing the fiddly bits around his nose, he felt her little hands tucking into his waistband, pulling open the towel, freeing it up to drop to the floor.
“Hey,” he said sharply, as her hands now went to his bare, semi-hard cock. “I’m supposed to meet her in, like, 20 minutes. You want to spoil it all?”
He saw her lick her lips.
She said: “You didn’t need it last time, did you? You said you just ate her pussy and then she drove away.”
“Yeah, but this is the second date. Maybe it’ll go further.”
“What, like your murder?”
“I can handle myself.”
Emma sighed. “You really haven’t thought it through, Jonah,” she said, her voice sharp, deadly serious for the first time he could remember, and in the mirror her expression was similarly grave. “I mean: it’s been fun, right? Playing the detective, fooling around, meeting some hot babes to bang… but you know, this could really get dangerous, right?”
“I’m counting on it.” Jonah felt the ripple of anxiety, and knew there was a lot to what she was saying.
“And what makes you think that if the Black Widow does eventually turn up, you’ll be able to deal with her when your brother couldn’t?”
Jonah felt hollow inside. Was he doing the right thing? What if she did suddenly appear – was he going to talk his way into a position to capture her, kill her? It was stupid.
“I have to do something,” he said quietly. Then he had a thought. “You know, even beyond your kinky little need to check out my date might, that actually might be the safest strategy.”
“What d’you mean? I don’t get it.”
“Well, if we could swing it so you can subtly observe my date when I meet her – even take pictures if you’ve got a smartphone handy – then if anything does go wrong, you can tell the police who I was with.”
Emma resumed her stroking of his rigid shaft, which felt so good Jonah was unable to bring himself to stop her. She said: “That’s very brave of you, but it does still leave you potentially dead before we know the one you’ve met is the Black Widow. Slight downside to the plan, huh?”
Jonah watched her lean over and gently touch her lips and nose to his cock – not licking him, just being close to his manhood, so that he could feel her hot breath on his flesh. It felt intimate, affectionate somehow.
He tried to reassure her: “We’ll come up with a better plan, I’m sure.”
“And in the mean time, you’re going on a second date with a woman, when you suspect it could have been a second date that got your brother killed?”
“I don’t think Jessica’s the killer.”
Emma looked up at him and staged a highly melodramatic mock gasp. “So while I’m working hard lining up some dates that fit our picture of who the Black Widow might be, you’re just out having fun?”
“Hey, it’s a learning process – you know that. And I never said there was no chance at all that Jessica’s not the killer.”
Emma paused. “Wait, I’m just getting my head around your triple negative. But you are basically just going on this because you’re totally into her kinky sex?”
Jonah felt himself blush.
Emma suddenly broke out into a broad smile, accusing him: “You liked that she went all dominatrix on you!”
“It was… bizarre…” Jonah said, adding: “That’s all. Just… bizarre.”
He tried to focus on finishing up his shaving, but Emma now grabbed his cock and gave it a harsh squeeze. She said: “You better tell me, Jonah.”
“Tell you what?”
“What you liked about it. Why you’re going back.”
“It was just… hot. Dangerous. And the way she used me…”
“I don’t know… it was like there wasn’t so much pressure to perform. Because she was using me, she was doing whatever she wanted with me, it wasn’t up to me to guess what she needed, guess how to make her feel good.”
He could see Emma transfixed to the sight of his cock right there next to her, bobbing and twitching as he thought about what had happened before – kneeling before Jessica, the way she had used him.
“God…” Emma said in quiet awe. “I am going to have to try it out on you.”
She leaned over, and as Jonah was finishing up his shaving, he was a little surprised to suddenly find his shaft enveloped by her searing hot mouth.
“Hey!” he said, pulling himself from her clutches. “You’ll spoil it – you are letting me go on this date, aren’t you?”
“Of course. I wanna know what she does next. I wanna try it,” she said dreamily, reaching for his cock again, though failing to catch it as he stepped away.
“If you want to know what she does next, we can’t afford to have you set me off ahead of time, right?”
“Come on, put your skirt back on – I have to get down to the restaurant.”
“Don’t walk next to me,” he whispered as they neared the restaurant. “What if she sees you?”
“Seriously? She’s using a website to meet men for kinky outdoor sex. You really think she’ll get jealous?”
Emma had a point, but Jonah was more than a little nervous, so he had been voicing a few too many concerns out loud.
Nevertheless, as they entered the outdoor part of Brown’s, she did peel off and stride away as though she had nothing to do with him. Jonah groaned – had he annoyed her? He’d never really seen her irritated before, didn’t quite know how she dealt with it.
It was relatively early in the evening – just after work, so the office crowd were beginning to pour in, but there were plenty of tables available. Taking a seat, Jonah told himself he couldn’t afford to worry about Emma. She had chosen to tag along, try to get a glimpse of the mysterious Jessica – he hadn’t asked her here. Getting comfortable, he ordered a beer from the waitress and saw that Emma was seated on her own table on the other side of the outdoor enclosure.
She flashed him a mischievous smile when his eyes found hers, signaling her own impatient excitement at getting to witness this particular woman that Jonah now wondered if he should have shared details about.
Well, it was online dating – it wasn’t like he was a doctor or lawyer with confidentiality clauses to abide by. People date, have sex or whatever, and often they tell their friends about it. In her brief emails, Jessica had never told him explicitly not to talk about their encounters with anyone else.
Regardless, Emma looked perfectly chirpy, and that did actually calm Jonah a little.
Was Jessica actually going to turn up? She’d persuaded a waiter to hand him a message the last time. It meant that this time, Jonah found himself glancing at the waiting staff, as well as keeping his eyes open for Jessica herself and checking his watch every minute or two.
He also kept looking over at Emma, to see if she was still there – and of course she was, though now it seemed a young guy was sitting with her, apparently trying to chat her up. Jonah directed a questioning expression her way, and Emma simply shrugged, appearing to say something like: “What can you do? The guys just can’t stop hitting on me.”
Jonah found himself surprisingly jealous at this new interest in his sexy blonde assistant – but stopped himself from dwelling on such a situation. God, how could he possibly be jealous about Emma, when he was about to meet up with another woman for the express purpose of casual sex? And after all the women he’d been with recently, even if it was on the surface some mad attempt to track down the killer of his twin brother?
Emma did seem to be playing up the attentions of this other guy, who was about her age but seemed so very young to Jonah with his fresh face and the kind of salon-produced messy hairstyle that seemed the trend for that generation.
Jonah was completely surprised by the hand on his shoulder.
It came from the wrong direction – and Emma was too distracted by her new admirer to offer any kind of warning.
“Robert, isn’t it?”
Jonah looked up, more at the sudden contact than the sound of his stage name, since he still didn’t quite have that natural response to the sound of it. It was the same waiter as before, the one who handed over the shot glass and the message to meet Jessica in the parking garage.
“Yes, that’s me,” he said, but the waiter didn’t look as though he was waiting for an answer to provide Jonah with another shot glass and a white envelope.
“This is for you.”
The waiter was gone as soon as Jonah had picked up the envelope, but in that moment he’d looked in the man’s face, Jonah had registered a strange glint in his eye that suggested perhaps he had an idea what was going on here. Was he even a member of staff here? There were so many waiters in this huge bar-restaurant, it would have been quite easy for someone to slip in, wearing the right color polo shirt. Had his shirt even displayed the logo of the Brown’s restaurant chain? Jonah couldn’t be sure.
Emma was now staring across at him, ignoring the poor guy next to her who’d been trying to get into her panties.
Her expression posed a question – was that the same waiter from before? Jonah had forgotten the level of detail he had provided to her when he gave into her questions about Jessica. He had told her that a waiter had delivered the message that time.
Jonah gave her a nod, confirming it was the same waiter as before, and Emma nodded in return, as though she’d figured it all out. Then she flashed him a glare, her eyes flicking to the envelope in his hands, urging him to open it.
The envelope was blank other than a three-digit number written in ballpoint pen – 343. Inside, he found a credit-card size plastic card branded clearly with the logo of the Marriott Hotels chain.
A room key, then.
There was no way it could be anywhere other than the Marriott Hotel located just yards away at Number One West India Quay – the hotel that shared the building with his brother’s own apartment.
Jessica would no doubt be waiting in room 343.
Jonah stood, his heart pounding, throat dry. He noticed that Emma had also pulled herself up to her feet, and as he now negotiated his way through the tables toward the exit, she did likewise.
“Where does she want you?” she whispered as we happened to leave the restaurant at the same time.
“The hotel. The one over there, I presume. Room 343.”
He caught a very quick glimpse of Emma, which told him all he needed to know – she appreciated that if the waiter guy was still around, monitoring the situation, reporting back to Jessica, things could sour one way or the other.
Heading out of the restaurant enclosure, Jonah turned left toward the Marriott, but Emma peeled off to the right, making it look as though she had nothing to do with him and never had. She could almost have been a spy, Jonah thought, before deciding she’d probably be more like a Bond girl than a real secret agent.
Walking over to the hotel, Jonah flicked his eyes this way and that, but couldn’t see any sign of that waiter.
He entered the building and walked through reception to the elevators, before taking one up to the third floor.
So anxious. Was he being naive to simply discount Jessica’s potential to be a Black Widow? Just because it had been a thrill to kneel before the beautiful blonde woman and lick her pussy?
His heart seemed to be in his throat as the elevator stopped on the third floor, and he proceeded down the corridor following the signs to rooms 340-380.
There was the room.
He slotted the plastic card in the slot above the door handle, and caught his breath as the door handle actually turned. Oh God.
It was a surprise to find the room empty. It wasn’t the biggest place in the world – not even a suite – though the fittings were nice enough. The door to the ensuite bathroom was located just around the corner from the small hallway in which the fitted wardrobe was located, and as he rounded into the main space of the room, dominated by the king-sized bed, he saw that the bathroom door was closed, and he could hear the sound of a shower running.
Was she in the bathroom, having a shower?
There was another wide envelope on the bed, where he couldn’t possibly have missed it, with the name “Robert” printed on the address panel, in the same ballpoint ink as before.
He retrieved the small piece of notepaper, which gave simple instructions: Take off your clothes, lie on the bed on your back. Then you may not move unless permitted.
Jonah felt his loins tingling, butterflies fluttering inside his stomach. What was she planning this time?
A hundred questions swirled around his head as he yanked off his shoes, almost ripped off his shirt, pulled his underwear down with his pants all in one go, so impatient to see Jessica again.
He knew the urgency he felt to see her again was related to the fact that she’d controlled and limited his access so much the time before. Emma was right – there was something about her treatment that had definitely clicked with him: the dominant woman was certainly a turn-on. After the incredible night he’d had with Lily, maybe it was just a sign that he had a thing for powerful women.
This whole process seemed to be more than just a hunt for a killer – Jonah was discovering more about himself than he ever thought possible.
His nerves were jangling as he sprawled across the bed, and obediently lay on his back, settling into a comfortable position before complying with the final part of the message, remaining still. For a few moments, he just stared up at the ceiling and concentrated on breathing.
The sound of the shower ceased. Jonah’s heart started beating heavily, thumping in his chest as though trying to call out to Jessica. He waited, wondering how long she would need to prepare herself after her shower.
It seemed to take so very long. Listening to the sound of a hairdryer in the bathroom, he found his mind wandering, flashing through aspects of his investigation – going through the few clues they knew about the killer, knowing they all pointed to Jessica if he allowed himself to think that way. He had to be careful, he knew that. But maybe Emma had a point when she said it was all very well planning on her getting a look at Jonah’s dates when he met them, but facing death just so that a single person could suggest who was most likely the culprit was a high price to pay just to get a witness.
And what if Emma didn’t get a look at her at all? Jessica’s strategy was making that possibility difficult.
He hoped Emma was being clever, and perhaps staking out the hotel, or even this room since he’d told her the room number. Perhaps she’d get a glance at Jessica, assuming the same thing happened as last time, and the woman took off as soon as she’d had her fill of Jonah.
The door to the bathroom opened quite suddenly, and Jonah felt his heart perform a little pirouette.
There she was.
He did well just to keep his blood pumping around his body as she paused in the doorway, allowing him to run his eyes over her sensational figure and the elegant yet sexy lingerie she was wearing – black bra with white lace trim, black lace-top stockings with garters leading up to a suspender belt, little black lacy panties that were likely see-through, though the light didn’t make it easy to see.
Her long, golden hair was down this time, slightly tousled and wavy as it flowed down either side of her face, almost as though she’d already had sex that evening. Once again she wore bright red – hooker red – lipstick, though the rest of her makeup was more subtle.
“Hello again,” she said, her eyes trailing over his body as he lay there, completely exposed to her.
“Hi,” he said, wondering if he was allowed to speak, a warmth now blossoming inside his chest as he saw her eyes dwell on his thickening cock. Did she like what she saw? It seemed so. She gave a slight nod, appreciative.
Calmly, without any rush whatsoever, she walked over to the nearest wardrobe, allowing him a magnificent view of her shapely behind as she did so. He watched her open the wardrobe to retrieve something that Jonah could not quite see until she’d closed the wardrobe again and turned to face him.
A rope – white, not too thick but thick enough that he knew he’d never be able to break it.
Jessica returned to the bed, offering him an encouraging smile that stirred his insides. She had to be as turned on as he was – she’d designed this whole appearance, after all. He could see her beautifully flat stomach quivering slightly – did she have butterflies too? Nevertheless, she was good at projecting calm self-assuredness, which you no doubt needed to be the dominant one in this kind of affair.
She climbed onto the bed, and he caught a burst of her exotic perfume as she moved to him, kneeling up with the rope in her hands.
“Are you ready to please me?” she asked, and it seemed to Jonah that she was quite well spoken. Educated, certainly, and no doubt fairly affluent, though not to the extreme.
“Yes, Miss,” he said, not really knowing how to address her, so taking the title he’d last used for female teachers back in school.
She didn’t seem to object to it. She said: “Arms up.”
For a brief flash, he had no idea what she meant. It was really his subconscious that responded to her order, raising his arms and meekly holding his wrists together as though she was guiding them by telepathy.
He saw her gently bite on her bottom lip as she curled the rope around his wrists, loop after loop, and there was another burst of heat inside his chest in response. She wanted him. This stunning older woman wanted to use him for her own sexual gratification.
She’d clearly practiced a little rope work before – her handiwork was excellent. His wrists were tightly bound with a neat array of turns of the rope, so that it almost appeared to be simply some kind of wristband. Well, this was okay, Jonah thought. He still had his legs free.
Satisfied he was sufficiently bound, Jessica now stood up over him.
What a wondrous sight – Jonah held his breath as he gaped up at her trim body, yet while his eyes couldn’t help taking in the hint of her pussy through the semi-transparent panties, her toned belly and her small, pert breasts contained within her bra, it was her blazing eyes that really captured his gaze, locking his focus in place as she now sank slowly down, down, down, knees parting and dropping either side of his head so that her lace-covered sex was mere inches from his face.
She paused briefly, teasing him or perhaps even herself, allowing him a tantalizing glimpse of her pink folds through the luxurious lace and a lungful of her perfume and lingering traces of her grooming products.
Then she was pressing herself down on him, her warm flesh all around his head – thighs against his cheeks, pussy touching down over his mouth and chin, the rough lace tickling his nose a little as it brushed against it. The heat of her body was astounding.
He could detect the growing scent of her arousal, and it thrilled him. He opened his mouth to kiss her, to taste her, but the way she was almost smothering him, there was little he could do.
Jessica wiggled her hips, jostling him, getting him just where she needed him, wedged over his mouth and nose.
“You like that?” he heard her say, but could only moan his approval in return.
Her hands closed around the top of his head, holding him as she began to gently grind herself on his face, and Jonah had to fight for breath, each precious inhalation increasingly saturated with that glorious female spice.
Time seemed to slow as she pleasured herself on his mouth, her moisture beginning to seep through her panties so that he could taste the same salty tang he remembered from before. He loved her taste, and the sight of her from this angle was incredible – but what drove him even more was the sound of her deep breathing and quiet moans, signifying her own sexual pleasure, which seemed so much more important than his own.
It was a touch frustrating that his wrists were bound, palms together, in such a way that even though they were tied in front of his chest, he just couldn’t bend his elbows in such a way as to be able to touch his hard throbbing cock as she rode his face.
She stood up, and he saw that her cheeks were flushed. She was smiling broadly, and he felt wonderful warmth inside that she was letting go, loosening up a little compared to their first run-in. Then down came her lace panties, and watching her step out of them, Jonah was licking his lips.
When she knelt over him again, giving him a close-up view of her sweet pink pussy, embellished by her little patch of golden hair above, he felt a deep hunger for her.
“You want this?” she asked him.
“Please, Miss,” he said. “More than anything.”
She smiled. “I was right to choose you, Robert.”
Then she dropped again, but this time did not completely smother him – she held above him just sufficiently to give him free reign to lick her, to suck her tender folds, to push his tongue inside her and nuzzle his nose against her clit.
She tasted divine, and seemed happy for him to perform as he wished, gyrating her hips only a little as he tended to her and lapped up her come. She turned, offering him a taste of her pussy from behind, and the superlative view of her shapely ass, as she continued to ride him, though now facing his feet.
More than anything, Jonah appreciated the time she allowed him on this second occasion. Like being able to appreciate a fine wine, rather than gulp it down. He could dwell on her exquisite bouquet, and savor her complex yet balanced feminine flavor.
He was so focused on experiencing her, he almost failed to notice her hands now moving to his cock, her fingers curling around his shaft, exploring his size and his hardness, taking in the heat of his blood being pumped around its full length.
Yet as she now forced herself down on his face, ending his long leisurely tasting experience in order to use him once more for her own purposes, Jonah felt her squeezing his hardness, and begin a slow but accelerated pumping that he feared could result in a sticky situation developing.
He felt the conflict of his own biological need versus the pressure to please her – loving the sensation of her body draped all over him, her hand stirring his manhood, her sex wedged against his mouth – and yet while he wanted to hold on to enjoy the moment, the urge to simply let go and explode, release himself as he’d been unable to do before – he could hardly control it.
Her own body now clamped around his head so firmly that he couldn’t tell quite what was happening, or whether she was close to her own orgasm. He was confined in a delicious enclosure of her sex, and though he could feel her moving against him, kneading his face with her pussy, he could not hear or really see whether she was nearing her climax.
But she kept pumping him, reaching a furious pace, and there was no way he could stop her.
He felt that twinge just as the point of no return was reached, and then his hot seed was erupting from his manhood, spurting out to land on his belly, Jessica continuing to pump him even after the last drop was spent.
Only then, with his own reserves depleted, did he feel her suddenly step up the pace of her rocking on his face, and she was trembling all around him, a fresh burst of her come seeping from her quivering pussy as he lapped at her flushed lips.
There was a moment, afterwards, where she simply lay on him, and Jonah felt so calm and wonderfully satiated that he was happy to have her there, her inner thighs still either side of his head, her sex so explicit right there in his face.
He felt an enormous sense of gratitude that she’d allowed him release, he was quite happy to wait there until she was ready to extricate herself from him.
So comfortable and warm, the endorphins flowing around his system like opium, granting a cozy sense of serenity. He even found his eyelids growing heavy, and allowed himself to close them, feeling sure there could be no harm in catching a moment or two of rest.
He was woken with a jolt by a furious banging on the door.
“Jonah!” he heard Emma’s voice, muted a little by the door keeping her out. “Jonah!”
Jonah rubbed his eyes, his vision swimming a little, his balance not quite there. What had happened? He’d fallen asleep. Jesus – what an idiot?
Briefly, he took in the scene – the room was completely empty other than him, perfectly neat and tidy with absolutely no sign of Jessica. She must have gone – Emma must have seen her go, else she wouldn’t be hammering at the door.
But his young blonde friend’s continuing hammering against the door forced him up, yelling out a quick: “I’m here, I’m okay!” as he scampered to the door to let her in.
Noticing that Jessica had untied him, taking her rope with her when she’d gone.
“Oh God – I thought you were a goner,” Emma said breathlessly, rushing through the door and jumping on him, hugging him furiously. “I saw her leave, and then you weren’t answering your phone, and when I got here, you weren’t answering the door…”
She was pale, afraid. He’d never seen her like this before.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I fell asleep.”
“Oh, must have been good, then,” her wisecrack brought back the Emma he knew, but Jonah felt sorry to have given her such a scare.
“I was just so spent – I closed my eyes for a moment afterwards, and when I opened them again, you were beating the door down – “
“- and she was gone,” Emma finished for him. “Charming – doesn’t she even wait to say goodbye?”
She reached up and kissed his mouth, and Jonah wasn’t even thinking as he brought his hands to her soft face and kissed her back, tasting the sweetness of her mouth and the lingering trace of -
“I can taste her,” Emma said as they broke apart, her eyes wide, her face filled with light as she realized what it was that was making his kiss so different to the last time she’d kissed his mouth.
She clamped her hands around the back of his head and now pulled him to her for another deep kiss – sampling Jessica’s personal flavor secondhand. Jonah wondered if there were any real boundaries to this girl’s sexuality.
He felt things stirring down below as her tongue slipped inside his mouth, her hands gripping his hips, the thought of this pretty little blonde so curious about the powerfully beautiful Jessica really sparked something inside him. How stunning would it be to witness the two of them together?
“I saw her leaving the hotel,” Emma said, kicking the door of the room shut behind her. “She was unbelievable. So beautiful.”
She pushed him back, and he allowed her to coax him over towards the bed, where she shoved him onto the edge of the mattress, his cock thickening as he saw her reach under her little black skirt to slip aside her underwear before climbing onto his lap, her hot, bare little pussy touching down on his cock as it attained full rigidity.
He warned her: “I’m not sure how much energy I have left.”
But she shook her head, touched a forefinger to his lips, said: “Shh. I just want to kiss you, I want to imagine her having her wicked way with you.”
And then he was inside her, her tight pussy squeezing him delightfully, her agile hips gyrating sensually as she pumped him, pushing him back on the bed so she could explore his mouth with hers.
“You want to know something really interesting?” she said just before the final push to orgasm.
“When I saw her leave the hotel, she was walking hand in hand with that waiter guy from the restaurant.”
“You think they’re an item?”
“Kinky, huh. Like Lily and her husband, maybe.”
They enjoyed the hotel room the rest of the night – it was paid for, whether Jessica and her partner wanted it or not, and neither Emma nor Jonah felt the need to vacate the room merely to find another bed in which to sleep.
He left her sleeping the next morning, slipping out without even making use of the shower first. Nate’s apartment being in the same building, and his desire to allow an exhausted Emma a lie-in made it an easy decision to seek a shower back home.
Yet after leaving the hotel and circling around the building in the low light of the dawn, he found a familiar vehicle parked outside the front of his side of the building, its driver door opening to allow a familiar person to step out to greet him.
“Detective,” he said.
“Mr Fielding,” Mulray greeted him with a polite shake of the hand. “I was expecting you to come out of the building at such an hour, not be going in.”
“Oh, you know how it is. Things to do, people to see.”
As ever, she looked stunning. Another dark suit attempting to play down her curves, makeup subtly applied to minimize attention, mocha hair pulled back to emphasize professionalism.
“You’re still making good use of that website, then?” There was an edge to her voice – she did not approve. Yet she wasn’t coming straight out and telling him. Not her job, he guessed.
“Haven’t looked at it for a while, actually,” he said, technically speaking a little truth, since Emma had largely taken on the job of managing the website stuff. She knew far better than he did how a guy like Nate would chat up the right kind of women through that website, after all.
Mulray gave a slight nod of the head – approval, perhaps, though in those large, intelligent eyes what Jonah saw was more like contemplation of his white lie. She was always trying to work him out, and this time was no different. She thought him more mysterious, more interesting than he really was, but with his crush, he wasn’t going to try to persuade her otherwise.
“I wanted to talk to you about it,” she said now.
“Should I be expecting a visit from some of your detective friends?”
She leaned back against the car, and he could see the disappointment even in the flicker of a hesitation before she said: “They’re not exactly in a rush.”
Jonah nodded. He felt a heavy stone drop inside his stomach, and curiously it didn’t seem to him that it was anything to do with the police deciding not to take his suggestion about the website seriously.
He felt the gloom stealing over him from the thought that a certain brunette detective might not see him any more since he had no more leads to offer in the case.
“They say why?” he asked her.
“You want to take this inside? There’s… well, a chill in the air.”
Jonah didn’t feel particularly cold, but the way her eyes darted this way and that, it didn’t seem to be the temperature she was worried about. Did she know something? Was he under surveillance after all? Did they think he was a suspect? Were the police not after a woman?
“Sure,” he said, as though accepting her reasoning without question. “Can I take a shower first?” he added, knowing that after the evening he’d had, sitting with the attractive detective peering at photographs was not an idea he was keen on. “You can wait in my kitchen if you like.”
She gave him another look at that, but he caught a gentle blush in her cheeks at the acknowledgement that last time she’d been in his apartment, she’d watched him taking a shower through the transparent bathroom wall.
“If it’s a quick one,” she said.
The concierge was on a break, or whatever, completely negating the whole idea of building security, but hey. Wealthy apartment owners couldn’t have everything their own way all the time, Jonah figured as he sauntered past with Mulray by his side.
“I wanted to ask you something about Nate,” she said. “Might seem a little… insensitive.”
The elevator door opened silently and they stepped inside, Jonah attempting to keep as much distance from her as possible without making it seem obvious, leaning back against the wall as they ascended, bum wedged against the steel rail.
“Did Nate ever… pay for sex?”
Jonah scratched his head, realizing his hair was in a somewhat crazy state. He said: “Other than his membership fee for that website – but I’m not sure if you’d define that as – “
“What I mean is,” she cut in, “would he ever use the services of a prostitute?”
Jonah felt a little jolt burst in his chest. What was she getting at? Suddenly he felt his confidence in his lost twin shaken – her question alone offering enough of a suggestion that she knew something about Nate that he didn’t.
He said: “No – I don’t think he ever needed to.”
Mulray nodded. He felt her eyes on him, examining his face to assess his reliability as a witness. Jonah hugged himself, as though it would keep the subtle scent of sex to himself until he could hit the shower.
He said: “When he was with his mates in the City, they were the kind of guys who’d probably drag him to some strip club or other once in a while. I doubt he’d ever – “
He hesitated as the elevator came to a halt and the doors opened, despite the liklihood there would be noone lurking in the hallway out there.
“You think there’s some kind of link to prostitution?” he said, and strangely found himself thinking not about whether Nate might have been tempted to procure a lady of the night, but about whether Julian Foster would – technology-phobe Julian Foster of the cozy middle class, with his dalliance with the web purely to experiment in the murky world of wife-sharing and wife-swapping.
He thought about whether Julian had gone to a hooker, and whether Lily had known about it. It didn’t seem like something she’d approve, even considering the things she had agreed to.
But as with Nate, could you really tell something like that for certain? These people had already gone against the grain and explored extra-marital desires and anonymous ine night stands with partners chosen via an Internet website – was prostitution really off the table as a possibility?
“My colleagues have a suspect in their sights,” Mulray said as he tapped out the security code to open the apartment front door.
“Don’t tell me – a prostitute.”
“She knew the first victim – she knew Douglas Moss. My colleagues believe she had a string of guys from the City as clients.”
“You talk to Lily Foster about this?” Jonah asked, and ushered the detective past him inside the apartment.
“Not particularly happy at the idea, as you could imagine.”
“You did tell your colleagues about the whole website thing? That he might well have been – “
“I told them,” the Detective interrupted him.
She sighed. “They took it as confirmation that Julian was more likely to have consorted with prostitutes.”
Jonah nodded, resigned to life not being simple.
Jonah offered her a seat on one of the white couches, but as they ventured in, he noticed that for just a flash, Mulray’s eyes were involuntarily drawn to the transparent wall showing through to the darkened bathroom. Was she remembering watching him? Jonah concealed a smile – he bet there was a fiery, passionate young woman under her carefully controlled exterior.
“I want to thank you, though,” Mulray said.
“Lily told me about everything that happened with you guys the other night.”
“Everything?” Jonah found himself blushing.
Mulray actually laughed. “Well, maybe not everything. But she opened up to me, said you’d persuaded her. Told me about… you know, the swinging.”
“I think they call it ‘The Lifestyle’ now,” Jonah said.
“I heard that. Lily’s quite… open… about the whole sex thing. I guess you really made an impression on her, though – she couldn’t stop talking about you.”
He felt himself flush in the face again.
“She’s good fun,” Jonah said, trying to play it down in front of the girl he had a burning crush on. “I get the feeling that what she had with Julian… it wasn’t all him in the driving seat, if you know what I mean.”
Mulray nodded. “Lily’s not what you’d call monogamous by nature. I guess she might have been once.”
Jonah was puzzled – was there a hint of admiration in Mulray’s voice? She was impressed by Lily. She also seemed impressed at him for impressing Lily. Wow. Was Lily speaking the truth when she’d said she thought Mulray might be interested in him once the case was closed?
“When are your colleagues going public with this whole prostitute thing?” he asked her now, changing the subject to spare himself further blushes.
“Tonight – press conference timed for the ten o’clock news.”
“Actually, I was going to ask whether you might to see Lily again,” Mulray said as she found her seat. “Maybe you could keep her company when the story breaks.”
“Pimping me out again, Detective?” he smiled, but felt a little flutter of excitement at the prospect of seeing the sophisticated and fascinatilikeng brunette once more.
“She was asking after you when I saw her yesterday – you guys clearly had a good time together,” Mulray offered him a suggestive grin.
“It was fun,” he said. “D’you introduce other victims’ relatives to each other? Doesn’t seem like ordinary protocol for a murder investigation, a match-making service.”
“Sure, it’s frowned upon,” she shrugged. “But I’m liaison officer. I liaise. I figured Lily needed a little human connection – with someone who understands.”
“So I take it we’re not reporting back to HQ about all this liaising?”
“You going to take that shower, Mr Fielding? Because I don’t have all the time in the world here, and if I don’t get my little show, I’m going to be frustrated all day.”
Jonah laughed, “Well, you are the law, so I guess I’d better obey.”
Was she going to actually watch him? As he headed into the bathroom and began to strip off, there was a warm feeling simmering inside them that suggested he hoped she would.
Sadie Moss lived in a cozy middle class neighborhood in Chiswick, a cozy middle class part of West London where it seemed just plain wrong for anyone to become the victim of a serial killer.
Mulray was telling Jonah unnecessarily to let her do the talking when they arrived, to let her get through the awkward part of telling the widow of the murderer’s first victim that the police had decided the crimes had been performed by a prostitute who had known her husband intimately.
“I know, I know, you shouldn’t have brought me,” he said. “But you did bring me, Detective.”
“I did. I guess I must like your company.”
He felt a little warm at that, but he played it down, saying: “Or, you figure I might be able to tease out a few more little details from her, because I’m not a copper.”
“There is that.”
“I’m not sleeping with this one, though,” he said.
Mulray rolled her eyes at him and gave him a melodramatic sigh. “You know I didn’t specifically tell you to sleep with Lily. Just keep her company.”
“Right,” Jonah nodded. “That’s what you were thinking when you suggested I walk her home that night – rather than offering to escort her yourself.”
“I wasn’t on duty that night.”
Jonah stifled a sigh. He couldn’t work out the dark-haired detective. Was she interested in him? She seemed to blow hot and cold. Surely she couldn’t honestly have wanted to spend time with him simply because he was causing trouble with his amateur sleuthing? Or because she seriously imagined he’d come up with something important in the case by my illicit encounters with other victims’ relatives.
Driving down Chiswick High Road, the traffic was halted by multiple zebra crossings, and Jonah found himself peering at the little shops either side of the wide street. Something about this place felt like home, felt like Oxford. He realized that he did miss his former life, shut away with his books, his papers, his scrawled notes from field trips studying the movements of birds – so harmless, so gently comforting.
He knew there was no going back to all that, he knew it, and driving slowly through streets that were the nearest London got to Oxford, as far as he’d yet seen, he felt a pang of homesickness.
“So ideally you’d want to know if she and Douglas were ever involved in an online dating website?” He said, trying to divert his own attention away from a strong feeling that was in danger of invoking tears.
“It would be useful if that kind of information came to light, sure.”
“Even though your colleagues have discounted the idea that the website links the victims?”
“If it comes to light that Doug had a habit of using prostitutes, that would also be useful to know.”
“I suppose so.”
They turned down a little street next to a large red-brick church that looked somehow out of place, the architecture faintly Italian, somehow, perhaps from some rustic village in the middle of Tuscany rather than West London. A Roman Catholic church, according to Mulray.
The street was lined by large trees, and the houses either side were quite large by London standards – only fueling his feeling that this was like some part of North Oxford.
Mulray pulled into the driveway of a large red-brick semi-detached house that Jonah thought had to be worth at least two million being located in this part of town.
“She’s not going to like the whole prostitute thing, is she?” he asked Mulray as she switched off the engine.
“No, she isn’t.”
“And I take it there isn’t a lot of confidence among your colleagues that she’ll be able to identify their prime suspect?”
“However did you come to that conclusion?” he saw Mulray’s left eyebrow rise as though floating on the sarcasm of her rhetorical question.
“Do they give you all the crap jobs?”
“I’m a liaison officer, Mr Fielding,” she said, opening her car door. “It’s my job to liaise.”
The house projected a feeling of immense calm, perhaps helped by the warm red of the brick, the tidy clean white surrounding the windows and the ivy snaking its way casually up the facade beside the large bay window. Yet there was also an inherent mournful quality to the place, from the gloom of the unlit interior seen through the tall glass panes, though no doubt also from the feelings projected by Jonah himself as its audience – his knowledge that there was an immense sadness contained within these high-priced walls.
As they walked up to the spotless white front door, which had a tiny little portico-style triangle above it, Jonah noticed the forlorn toddler’s pedal car lying outside the front door. As with Julian Foster, Douglas Moss’s murder had left a child or children without a father.
Sadie Moss took an age and a day to answer the door. Jonah didn’t blame her one little bit.
“Mrs Moss,” Mulray said, but the elegant yet gaunt blonde woman didn’t utter a word as she stepped back to allow the Detective and her companion to enter.
Early thirties, with a pageboy haircut of a natural-looking ash blonde color, the widow of the man the police had decided was the first victim of the Black Widow killer had no make-up on her face at all. She would hardly need it, Jonah thought, with her bone structure, except that she did not seem to be in an entirely good state. Dark bags under her bloodshot eyes, she could have benefited from gaining a good amount of weight, filling out her sallow cheeks a little.
“I wanted to update you on the case,” the Detective said.
Sadie Moss turned and silently led them through a long hallway to a large bright kitchen that looked onto a sunlit conservatory that was stuffed with toys of various primary colors.
“Have they found her?” she asked, finally.
Mulray said: “They think they have, yes.”
Sadie didn’t seem to bat an eyelid. “About time,” she said, her voice flat, impassive. “Who is she?”
“She’s…” Mulray glanced at Jonah, who could only shrug. There was something faintly intimidating about Sadie Moss, despite the fact that she was all skin and bones, and looked light enough to knock down with a feather.
“Spit it out, Detective.”
“She’s a known prostitute. I have a picture I’d like to show you.”
Sadie snorted. “You think I know many prostitutes?”
“I realize that. But just so we can rule it out.”
The blonde woman nodded, and indicated the large solid-oak kitchen table. Taking the seat at the head of the tale, she looked at Jonah briefly, a vague look of confusion on her face as though she couldn’t work out why he was there. Well, Mulray was a solitary creature most of the time, and she hadn’t introduced him.
Seated around one end of the table, the Detective fished out her photograph to show Sadie the suspect. It took barely two blinks for her to tell Mulray firmly: “Never seen her before in my life.”
Mulray nodded. “Would she be the kind of person your husband would have run into at any point?”
“Of course not.”
“You never had any suspicion at any point that Douglas might have been tempted to… go behind your back…”
Mulray was treading carefully, but this was a line of questioning that wasn’t entirely conducive to treading carefully.
“He never cheated on me, Detective, if that’s what you mean. He was an angel.”
An awkward silence settled between them like a bad smell.
Then the detective said: “The media’s going to be told about the suspect tonight, Mrs Moss. I thought it better to warn you…”
“Warn me? What’s the point?” Sadie Moss sighed. “So I can look forward to all the cruddy little hack journalists beating my door down asking me if my husband slept with hookers? Thank you.”
“Is there somewhere you could stay for a few days? You and Christopher?”
The widow said sharply: “What are they saying about her, this prostitute? What are they going to tell the press about Douglas?”
“They’ll only state the facts, that there’s been an arrest of someone fairly closely linked to one of the Black Widow victims, who may have a connection to a second victim.”
“Ergo my Douglas consorted with prostitutes.”
Jonah was impressed at Mulray’s professionalism – this was not the easiest conversation to have with someone. Sadie seemed tired more than anything, though Jonah thought maybe she just didn’t have the energy to make her anger clearer.
“My colleagues believe there could be certain synergies between the victims,” the detective said. “What I mean is – “
“I know what you mean, detective,” Sadie said. “My husband was in mergers and acquisitions – I know what synergies are. Good for investors, not so good for the people on the ground.”
Mulray nodded, and paused before speaking. She seemed to be purposefully taking her time, slowing down, presenting a sedate picture of calm as she spoke to the emotionally bleached blonde.
She said: “This is just a process. The woman we have in custody is still only a suspect at this stage. Even if there is no clear evidence of a link to your husband, or the other victims, we can hope that putting more information out there will prompt some member of the public to come forward.”
Sadie hissed. “You’ll get every crack-pot from here to Timbuktu calling you up telling you they saw Douglas with this prostitute of yours.”
“We can rule a lot of those out.”
“Douglas never cheated on me – not once, Detective,” Mrs Moss insisted. Jonah looked into her eyes and believed her. “And don’t think he didn’t have opportunities, either.”
“What d’you mean by that?”
“Douglas was an attractive man, Detective Mulray. He was in a high-powered job – of course he had opportunities. But he wasn’t interested in any of that.”
Mulray looked at Jonah briefly, as though attempting to gauge his reaction of Sadie’s declaration. He shrugged. He felt a little useless, actually. A third wheel who shouldn’t even have been there.
Almost without thinking, he heard himself asking the tired widow: “Uh… sorry, Mrs Moss. Could I possibly… use the facilities.”
His subconscious wanted a break from this pressured meeting.
Sadie looked at him for a moment or two, not quite getting what he wanted. Then she seemed to relax, and the tension was taken down a notch. “Of course, detective. Go upstairs, if you don’t mind – it’s the second on the right. The downstairs loo is full of Christopher’s things.”
“Thanks,” he said, not bothering to correct her about the ‘detective’ part.
But as he passed out of the room and took the first few steps up the red-carpeted stairway, he heard Mulray telling Sadie that he wasn’t actually a detective, he was the twin brother of the third victim, Nate Fielding.
“Oh,” he heard the blonde woman react, with a little surprise and clear pity.
With that, he felt a touch guilty that his intention for using the bathroom had nothing to do with the need to empty his bladder. Sadie Moss seemed like a nice woman, albeit badly affected by the loss of her husband. Ordinarily he’d want to be sensitive to that loss, but Jonah also felt a driving force to do whatever he could to chase down the killer of his twin brother.
Upstairs, he found the door to the bathroom but remained outside it. Instead, he tested the floorboards to see if they were suitable for a little stealthy examination of the rooms up here. The boards seemed surprisingly solid for an older home – perfect for a little sneaking around.
This work is a figment of my imagination. It’s not real, so don’t break my balls about what you think should have happened…it’s just a story.
It also contains explicit descriptions of vaginal, oral and anal sex between consenting adults over the age of 18. If any (or all) of these themes offend your sensitivities, please do not proceed past this point!
If you like it, please don’t forget to leave a comment and score at the end. Every bit of encouragement helps me decide whether the ongoing time and effort of writing is really worthwhile.
HS. September 2012.
THE EDUCATION OF REBECCA McFADDEN
I’ll never forget how it all started.
We were sitting around the kitchen table in Mum’s house. She’d gone to bed of course, and there was just Suzy and Rachel and me. The clock above the mantle showed two thirty and the bottles on the table were mostly empty, and Rachel was holding court like she always did.
‘Of course size matters,’ she said, ‘and don’t you ever believe anyone who says otherwise.’
I laughed, partly at her serious expression and partly because it was so like her to make statements like that. Black and white, that was Rachel. There were never any shades of grey in what she said or thought, particularly where sex was concerned. What a tosser!
‘Don’t you agree, Suzy?’
‘What?’ Suzy was the oldest of the three of us by eleven months and so Rachel always deferred questions to her, which was odd because she really didn’t give a toss what either of us thought.
Rachel frowned at her sister’s inattention. ‘I said that size does matter,’ she explained.
‘Oh…well, I guess.’ Suzy looked vague which was a sure sign that she didn’t really know what she was talking about, but felt compelled to answer anyway. In fact she wasn’t as experienced as Rachel, who, according to our calculations, had fucked more guys in the past year than the both of us had in the last five.
Rachel nodded, pleased with the support. ‘I mean, it just stands to reason,’ she continued. ‘A guy with a little dick could be the most skillful lover in the world but it would still be like waving a noodle in the Blackpool tunnel.’
I regarded my twin with amusement. ‘Just because your tunnel is like Blackpool’s, don’t think ours are like that.’ I said. ‘That’s probably why you need big guys – all the elasticity in your pussy has gone.’
‘Well, at least I use it,’ she retorted. Her blue eyes fastened on mine. ‘Are you actually doing anything with Tom? I mean, you’ve been going out with him for six months.’
‘It’s Tony, and what we do together is none of your business.’
‘Ha! Tiny, more like!’ Rachel laughed, a dry little sound of derision. ‘I was looking at him the other day in the pool and I’m not even sure he has one. Not a whisper of a bulge or anything. If he does have a cock it would have to be the smallest in the universe.’
‘Not all of us have the same basic needs as you.’
‘Ah, so he does have a pin-dick! So tell us what it’s like, Bec?’ She wriggled her little finger at me. ‘Is it like a little worm? Can you feel anything when you’re doing it?’
‘Don’t be disgusting.’
‘Is it like a toothpick?’ she persisted.
‘If you must know it’s actually quite normal.’
‘Really? Well normal is no good, Bec. You should try something bigger if you really want to be turned on. Like Jake’s.’ She held up her hands to demonstrate its length and thickness. ‘He’s got a dong like King Kong, and it’s lovely. You should feel it when he pushes it up your -’
‘Enough!’ I could feel myself getting angry, which seemed to happen a lot with Rachel. For a twin we didn’t seem to have much empathy, despite what the books said. ‘Nobody wants to hear about it.’
‘But you should,’ she continued. ‘Size and technique, Bec. Nothing like it, and you need coaching in both. If you like I’ll tell you -’
‘- about the time he pushed it up my arse. Jesus! I thought I was going to split.’
‘You did it up the bum?’ Suzy’s eyes went round with interest. ‘I thought they only did that in porn flicks.’
Rachel laughed again. ‘Christ, you two are hopeless.’ She regarded us with pity for a few moments. ‘Look, one day you’re going to meet some guys and get married, and once the honeymoon’s over he’ll pork you once a week if you’re lucky, and before long it might only be once a month. And when that happens you’ll look back and wish you’d had a bit more when you were younger.’ She turned her gaze on Suzy. ‘So you’ve never done it Greek?’
Her eyes swiveled to me. ‘And I don’t suppose you have – not that you would have felt Tiny’s little dick in there anyway.’
I shook my head, but despite myself I was interested. Rachel might be a bitch, but there was something compelling about her dirty stories.
She sighed. ‘Would it do any good if I told you about it? I mean, will it make any difference?’
‘It might,’ said Suzy.
Rachel laughed. ‘As if.’ She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering, and then shook her head. ‘Nah, that’s a story for another day…but I’ll tell you about the first time we did it properly. Shit, it was good!’ She stopped and took a sip of her drink, glancing at us to make sure we were listening. ‘I met him in a pub – he was with a few mates and I was with Vicky and Sue. I remember thinking he wasn’t my type but there was thin pickings that night so by closing time I figured it was either him or ol’ faithful again…’ she glanced at our blank faces. ‘You know, my vibrator? Old Faithful?’ She laughed. ‘Anyway, I guess I really wanted a good root so I figured he’d have to do.’
‘What about the others?’ Suzy asked.
‘Vicky found some guy…I’m not sure about Sue.’ She shrugged. ‘I really didn’t care – when there’s not enough to go around it’s every girl for herself.’ She regarded us. ‘Do you want to hear about it or not?’
‘Yeah, well… I didn’t want to take him home so we went into the park – you know, that little gazebo down by the lake -’
‘Jesus! Couldn’t you find anywhere better than that?’ Suzy interjected.
Rachel regarded her scornfully. ‘I always go there,’ she said. ‘It’s nice and quiet and it avoids any complications with the guy knowing where you live.’ She giggled. ‘There’s a little bench in it which is just the right height for doggie, which is great if the guy has beery breath.’
Suzy shook her head. ‘You’re a slut, Rach.’
‘Yeah, and I love it,’ Rachel laughed. ‘You’ve got to seize the moment, you know? Get your gear off and get into it, that’s my motto. There’ll be a time for being a prissy little housewife one day, just like you are now.’ She shook her head in mock pity. ‘So where was I? Ah yes… so I knelt on the bench and he stood behind me, and next thing I felt him pressing the head of his cock against my pussy. It’s dark there and I’d no idea what he had in his pants…up to that point it could have been a pin-dick like Tiny’s, for all I knew.’ Her eyes were on mine and I could see a gleam of amusement in them at my expense. ‘But it didn’t take me long to figure out this one was different…I mean, really different. I thought at first he’d got a dildo or something and was trying it out on me, but it wasn’t cold and hard like that…it was…just right.’ She laughed again and shook her head. ‘Shit, what am I saying! It was fucking huge! I reckon his knob must have been as big as his fist.’
‘Yeah, whatever,’ I’d heard Rachel’s stories about big knobs before.
‘No, really,’ she said. ‘I mean, it was soooo big it wouldn’t go in…I could feel him pressing forward and I knew it was in the right place, but it was jammed at the entrance. I could feel my pussy lips trying to stretch around him, but he was too thick.’
‘I doubt it,’ I murmured. ‘This is Blackpool Tunnel Rach speaking, right?’
She shook her head. ‘No. It was really, really tight. Like it wouldn’t go in – at least to begin with. And he just stood there, pressing forward. I could feel the pressure…like this immovable fucking log trying to force its way into me, and I couldn’t go anywhere because I was up against the back of the bench. So I just gritted my teeth and waited…and then suddenly I opened up and he popped into me.’
I leaned forward. ‘Come on, Rachel. You’re exaggerating, right? It can’t have been that big.’
‘It’s true,’ Rachel said. ‘It really was the biggest I’d ever had…and I tell you what – you’ll never want a little one again once you’ve had one of those drilling into you.’
Suzy laughed dismissively. ‘So what’s so good about being split in two? Sounds like a lot of grief to me.’
Rachel picked up a bottle and poured the last few drops into her glass with a petulant expression on her face. ‘You just don’t get it, do you?’ she said. ‘I’m wasting my fucking time here.’ She drained her drink and stood up. ‘Well I’m off to bed…and you two losers can sit up and compare how tiny your guys’ dicks are, and I’ll dream of being fucked by Jake again.’ She turned and walked unsteadily to the door.
Suzy called out after her. ‘So when did you find out it was a prosthetic cock, Rach?’
Rachel turned back and regarded us mockingly for a moment, and tried to flick her head in that little princess way she had, but it looked for all the world like she was agreeing with us. A moment later she was gone, and Suzy and I were left giggling in the kitchen.
When we were little my Mum used to dress Rachel and me alike. ‘They’re twins,’ she’d tell people, and so we were – not exactly identical, but so much alike that people could hardly tell one from the other. She’d do our hair the same way and seat us together in the same pram, and we’d look like two little peas in a pod. She expected us to like each other, too, but that didn’t happen. The truth was, we were different – and as we grew older those differences got bigger. She was the extrovert, where I tend to be shy and withdrawn; she was the party animal, where I was studious. She used people, and I didn’t. And if I was really honest, I’d say that Rachel has a real mean streak in her that I don’t.
Once we were bigger I tried to change my appearance so I didn’t look like her. I styled my hair differently and I always wore clothes and make up unlike hers. For a while I even tried to speak differently but that was difficult so I guess I still sound like her, but it doesn’t matter because we don’t move in the same circles. I guess we wouldn’t even talk much if it was just up to us, but Suzy is the glue that binds us together and so we still occasionally have these bizarre conversations mostly driven by Rachel’s ego.
And the thing is, she gets under my skin. She has this knack of saying things about me that I know are true, and it really bothers me.
So I lay in my bed that night and I thought about the little barbs she had thrown my way, and it got to me. Tony really was a boring fart, and he really did have a little dick, too. He was about as interesting in the sack as a dressmaker’s dummy, and I’d put up with it because it was easier than going out and finding someone else. And I knew that what she’d said about regretting a wasted youth was probably true too: I mean, if you don’t have fun when you’re young, when the hell will you ever do it?
I realised too that all of the guys I’d known were pretty much the same, and unless I did something different the chances were the next ones would be too. I just seemed to attract that sort of guy – you know, nice, and safe and…boring. The sort who you’d marry and fifty years later you’d look at them across the room with the old striped wallpaper and faded carpet, and wonder where the hell all the joy in your life had gone. Rachel, god damn her eyes, was right.
And as I drifted off to sleep the thought of Jake’s huge cock seeped into my mind, and I imagined it was drilling into me, not her, and it was filling places that I didn’t even know about. Part of me felt revolted by it, but the other part was excited…the thought of being possessed – of being held down by strong arms as that enormous dong rummaged my insides, reaching up towards my belly; pressing up inside me where no one had ever been before. I imagined Rachel was there too, laughing as I was being serviced, egging me on; and Suzy watched from the corner, her eyes like saucers as her fingers dipped into her crack. We both knew she’d be next.
In the darkness my fingers played frantically with my pussy, feeling the sticky juices oozing out of me as the spiral of my pleasure grew, expanding like a huge silver bubble in my brain until I thought it would consume me. Christ, it was good! And just as I could stand it no longer I tripped over the edge and came – my limbs twitching and a sudden spurt of moisture at my fingers as the bright coloured lights burst in my head. I could hear myself moaning and I couldn’t stop… my mind full of that huge thick prick lancing into me, sliding up until it was completely swallowed by my cunt, and then it spurted gallons of thick cream as I writhed underneath it. Fuck!
And the next morning, when the feelings of unease normally disappear, they were still there – and the next day too. Rachel, my bitchy little sister, had really hit the nail on the head. Tony would have to go, and I’d get out more and try to meet other guys. It was time to change, to use my hot little pussy…to have fun, fuck it, and bugger the consequences. The trouble was, though, that if I wanted to break out of this rut I’d have to do something different – and I had no idea how to do that.
And then, as these things do, a sudden opportunity presented itself.
Rachel has a job as a travel consultant. It sounds pretty grand, but really all she does is sit in dingy office and book other people’s holidays…pretty shit, if you ask me. She’ll come home and carry on about this island resort or that and how fucking marvellous it was, just like she’d been there. In truth she never had two bob to rub together so I figured the chances of her actually going to all these exotic places was just about zip.
And then one day she came home and told us that her company was sending her to Fiji for a few days, to check out a new resort there. I was happy for her, I really was, but then she blew it by spending the next three weeks lording it up like she was the fucking queen, about to embark on a Royal Tour of the south west Pacific. Holy crap! It’s only Fiji, for God’s sake.
Things were made worse by the fact that I’d got absolutely nowhere in finding a new guy. Tony had been given his marching orders and he’d slunk off like a bewildered kid, wondering what he’d done wrong. A stocktake of the office guys brought up zip – three accountants (as a principle avoid Accountants like the plague); the camp office boy whose underwear was probably frillier than mine, and the ugly boss who had been trying to get into my knickers for years. Even a couple of trips down to the pub had failed to find anyone more interesting than the local hicks who thought they were God’s gift. I mean, how hard could it be to find someone to root?
The night before Rachel flew out she was in the kitchen talking again.
‘I might bring you back a present Bec, if you’re good’ she said.
I figured it would be a wooden carving or perhaps a coconut shell cup, neither of which I wanted.
‘Gee, thanks Rachel.’
‘And when I get back I’ll tell you all about sex on a tropical island.’ She regarded me with her pale blue eyes. ‘Have you given Tiny the flick yet?’
‘As a matter of fact, I have.’
‘Well, that’s something. Have you found a new dick to play with?’
‘Don’t be crude.’
‘Hmm, I guess that means no. Would you like me to bring a bloke back for you?’
Rachel laughed. ‘Your loss. I’m going to have a wonderful time, and you’ll be here playing with yourself.’ A sudden thought occurred to her. ‘You’re not to touch old Faithful, right? In fact, don’t go into my room.’
‘I’d only go into your room if I wanted the pox.’
‘Yeah, well, I mean it. Don’t touch any of my stuff.’
The ridiculous thing about the conversation was that Rachel didn’t have anything that a self respecting girl would have wanted anyway – I mean, she didn’t wear normal clothes and her make up was all the wrong colours. So I guess it was just me being ornery when I went into her room the following day. I just wanted to make a statement, right… to do something that she didn’t want me to. I poked around her cupboard and looked in the bedside cabinet, and it was full of crap. The computer was still turned on and I had a look at that too, but aside from a few links to porn sites there was really nothing of interest there either.
And just as I was turning away I saw she’d left her email server open, and so I clicked on it and had a look. A new message from Jake. Shit, so he really was real! I flicked though the menu and read it. ‘Hey babe, free tonight. Fancy a shag?’
Jake, with the apparently enormous dong. Jake, who clearly didn’t know that little miss princess was away for a week. Jake, who wanted sex and nothing more. Jake, who the little bitch was constantly pushing in our faces. And suddenly an idea popped into my head which was so audacious that it took my breath away.
I sat on the chair and thought about it. I turned it over in my brain, looking at every angle, working out if it could be done, if I could get away with it. And the more I thought about it the more excited I got: it was daring, it was the new me; it would break me out of my rut and, best of all, it would put little miss pox arse in her place.
With trembling fingers I tapped out a response ‘Sure. Usual place 8pm. Wet just thinking about it.’
The letters on the screen glowed at me, seeming to pulse slightly in time with my racing heart. I rested my cursor on the Send button. Fuck, did I really want to do this? What the hell was I going to do with the guy, anyway? Not shag him, that was for sure…I knew where he’d been, at least as far as Rachel was concerned, and I didn’t fancy that rancid dick anywhere near me. But if I met up and pissed him off then he would think it was her, and that would be delicious. Fuck, her, the bitch.
I pressed the send button and watched as my message went, and then I took what I needed from her room and went out to change. It was going to be an interesting night.
Have you ever been to a fancy dress party and dressed as a slut? Felt the whisper of satin knickers on your skin, and the clasp of a cheap trashy dress on your body? It sort of gets to you, doesn’t it… your nipples press against the cups of the little lacy bra and they get hard all by themselves, and your pussy gets sensitive, too. I could feel mine as I drove to the park – an unaccustomed warmth down there, a wetness that I usually only got with direct stimulation. I could feel the little lacy gusset of Rachel’s pants pressing against me, the silky soft touch against my vulva and I could smell her cheap perfume in my nostrils; and when I looked in the mirror I saw her there. It was disturbing, really – all my adult life I’d tried not to look and act like her, and yet after an hour or two fixing my hair and practicing her pouty little expressions I was her. And not just the looks, either, for if the truth be known I was starting to think like her too.
I guess the Jim Beam might have helped. I could feel the warmth of it sloshing in my belly, and the dark eyes reflected in the rear view mirror were dilated with drink. I knew it was stupid but this was the new me – a girl out for her own gain and to hell with the rest of the world. I knew I wouldn’t fuck Jake – it was just a game to piss off Rachel, but hell, it was fun. For just one night I was going to be an irresponsible, stupid, selfish little slut.
I left the car at the far end of the car park under the big gum trees and made my way down the path towards the lake. There were other cars there too and I glimpsed figures in them moving together, the steamed up windows obscuring blurred faces pressed one to another. There was a street light at the end of the car park and I passed underneath it, hearing my heels tapping on the concrete pathway, watching my shadow flitting across the adjacent hedge. I guess I could have turned around then but it never occurred to me: this was my night – my adventure. Tonight I would dance to a different tune that would not only prove I could do it, but bugger up my precious little sister too.
The gazebo was shrouded in shadow, a pale blur under the thin moonlight, and I crossed the grass silently towards it. The trees behind it were a dark mass and I heard them rustle in a breath of wind, a sort of soft sigh, and then my heels were clicking on the steps as I walked up to the little platform. The ornate balustrade around its circumference threw a criss-cross of pale shadows across the concrete floor and there were pools of darkness next to each of its pillars. I walked to the centre of the floor and stood there for a moment, wondering if I was early, sort of half hoping that he wouldn’t turn up. And then the wind sighed in the trees again and for the first time I realised how vulnerable I was, and my confidence vanished in an instant.
I never heard him behind me. The first I knew that he was there was the clasp of his hands around my neck, gripping me hard. He dragged me to the little bench in the middle of the gazebo and pushed me over it, and he forced my legs open with his knees.
‘I’ve been waiting for this.’ His voice was low and gravelly. ‘Ready, are you?’
‘Wait! Wait, Jake. I’m not -’
He laughed, a low menacing sound. ‘Wet enough?’ he whispered, ‘I can fix that.’ His hands seized my dress and lifted it above my waist and a moment later his fingers were in my pants. I couldn’t move. His body was pressed hard against me, crushing me against the bench, and one hand pushed my head down. I felt the other rummaging, his fingers thick and warm against my flesh – easing aside the lips of my pussy and pressing into me. My breasts were squashed against the top rail of the little seat and my legs were spread open, thighs apart. There was no leverage to move – I just couldn’t, and so I whispered frantically at him in that dark, silent place, begging him to stop.
‘Jake, this isn’t what you think! Stop! I don’t want to do it -’
But there was no stopping him. His fingers worked into me, pressing into the warm pink flesh of my insides – two or maybe three fingers. I felt the wetness seeping out of me despite myself, and I heard the wet sucking noises of my labia as he rummaged in and out.
‘Jake! Listen to me! Stop!’
His fingers were suddenly withdrawn and his weight relinquished. For a moment I was stunned – I really hadn’t expected him to stop. A sense of relief surged through me, a sense of returning control. We would talk and I would explain, and in a few moments I’d be back in the car, laughing at Rachel’s expense.
But he hadn’t stopped. As I started to straighten up he fell to his knees and pressed his mouth to my crack and I felt him lapping at me in long, deliberate strokes. He must have had a tongue like a lizard, and he hit the exact spot: I could feel the rasp of it flat against my pussy, pressing against my vulval lips and then the tip curling into me as he drew it back into his mouth. Christ, it was delicious!
And in an instant the strength went out of my legs and I slumped back over the bench again, thrusting out my bottom to allow him greater access. His fingers curled under each buttock and drew them apart, opening me up, his tongue dancing on my sex, lapping, lapping. I could hear the snuffling of his breath and feel it hot against my crack – no, in my crack. God, his face was fully there, his nose jammed up my arse and his tongue pressing into me, forcing aside the lips of my pussy to draw out my essence. Drinking me, drinking me, swallowing the juice that suddenly streamed from my cunt, lapping like a dog on heat, immersing himself in me.
In the silence of that little Gazebo I could hear the soft, wet squelching of my pussy lips against his face as I juiced up, and the little moans of my pleasure rose above the soft sighing of the wind in the trees around us. His fingers dipped further, opening me, stretching me, exposing every secret I had to his hungry mouth. His tongue lapping, lapping, long languorous strokes from the tip of my clit to the gaping little mouth of my anus, flicking over my most sensitive flesh like a little snake, spinning me up in a tight spiral of pleasure. Nobody has ever done this before. Not Tony, with his fumbling, clumsy ways and prissy little dabs of his tongue. Not anyone else. Nothing like this. Nothing like the animal hunger with which he ate me, and nothing like the trembling acceptance of my flesh. Waves of pleasure surged through me with each stroke of his tongue and my legs wobbled like so much jelly around his face. Jesus, Jake, don’t stop! I gripped the top rail of the bench and rode the long waves of pleasure. Deeper, deeper! Pressing my cunt to his mouth, grinding down on him, lifting to tiptoe to direct his wriggling little tongue to my anus. Ah, ah, ah….just there! The tip pressing aside the tight crinkled opening, easing into that forbidden space. Jesus, fuck it was good!
I don’t know how long we were like that…it could have been hours, for all I knew. I do remember lifting one leg and hooking my knee over the bench, and that ratcheted the pleasure up even more. He’d pressed his fingers forward now, dipping into my holes alternately… pussy, ass, tongue, fingers. A cyclic round of expanding sensations, opening me up, lifting me to a plateau of indescribable pleasure and holding me there with the flick of his tongue and the long slide of his thumb or his fingers into the searing heat of my body. My cream flowed out of me like a river from deep well of my cunt to lubricate his tongue and lips and mouth, dripping off his chin to land like drops of black confetti on the pale silver floor of the Gazebo. The moon had come out and I could see him through the bars of the bench, his face pressed up, twisted to gain better access, his eyes shut as he savoured all that I had to give. My love juice on his face, his lips, his cheeks. Fuck, fuck…don’t stop, don’t stop.
And suddenly his face was gone and I felt his fingers at my buttocks again, opening me, holding the quivering flesh of my buttocks aside, and then the heat and hardness of his cock against me. He’s going to fuck me…Jake’s monster cock – the one that had been in Rachel. The one I’d told myself I wouldn’t have. But that was a thousand years ago and now I wanted it more than anything else. I couldn’t live a single moment more without it. With a groan of lust I pushed my arse back and wriggled as he engaged the tip against me. No, not want..it was need. I needed it inside me… I longed to be fucked, to feel the hot swollen flesh of a cock drilling up into the tight wetness of my seething cunt. God, Jake, fuck me, fuck me hard.
And then, just for a moment, everything stopped. I guess he was regrouping, or catching his breath or something, and in that instant I glanced to one side and I saw our shadows on the Gazebo wall. The moon had come out and I could see us projected on the rough render like silhouettes in a silent movie: one figure prostrate, bent over the bench and the other poised above it. Me and Jake…fucking. I could see a sliver of silvery light between them and I could see the stem that joined the figures, thick and black and malignant, poised to be plunged deep. And in that moment I remembered Rachel’s words ‘…it wouldn’t go in. I could feel the pressure…like this immovable fucking log trying to force its way into me…’
I’d not believed her then, but in the instant that I thought of it Jake thrust his hips forward in a long, powerful movement that was never going to stop. My body rocked forward under his inertia and then the hard metal railings of the bench arrested me and there was nowhere to go. There was sudden pressure at my cunt as his knob sought to enter – a sort of dull ache, as if someone had suddenly pressed the heel of their hand hard against the sensitive flesh; a pressure that grew rapidly as I resisted him. I could hear myself whimpering and hear the groan of breath leave his mouth as he felt it too. For a second I stopped his progress, my crimping flesh struggling to accommodate him, and then, suddenly, I opened up and he slid into me.
It was like pushing a fucking rolling pin into my clout, I can tell you. I could almost feel my flesh creaking with the strain of opening up, feel my body recoil as the mushroom of his knob slid into me. I was gasping, gasping, begging him to stop, to give me time to adjust.
My voice breathless. ‘Ah, Christ, Jake, wait…wait. Let me -’
His shaft stilled, the knob buried in the first inch or two of my twat. His hands on my waist, holding me, and his voice soft in my ear. ‘Christ, that’s good, baby, can you feel that? Jesus, Rachel, it’s even tighter than last time -’
“Yes, yes…wait. Gently, baby.’
For a few moments we were still. My cunt was throbbing around him, gripping his turgid flesh in a vice. I could feel him twitching, the rod thrumming and vibrating with each twitch. The ring of my vulva stretched like a banjo string and I put my fingers there and touched where we were joined.
‘Now…slowly, baby. Slowly. Go in. Nice and slow.’
The slide of his shaft, slippery against my fingertips. A feeling of warmth inside, of incredible fullness. Sliding deep, pushing aside the resistant walls of my trembling pussy, pressing against something vital – a dull ache, and then my fingers touched the wrinkled sack of his balls and I knew he was fully immersed. ‘Ah,’ I was whispering, my voice strained with wonder. ‘Ah, ah….hold it there, Jake. Oh, shit, you’re right inside.’
‘Deep inside your tight little cunt.’ His words strained, tight with lust. ‘Tell me what you feel, Rachel.’
‘Stretched….ah, fuck….stretched open. Touching something…inside. Deep inside me.’
‘Am I thick?’
‘Ah, yes. So fucking thick and long. Buried inside me.’
‘Are you ready to be fucked?’
‘God, yes! Fuck me…fuck me.’
He drew his hips back and I felt the long slippery withdrawal of his cock, a feeling of growing emptiness as my cunt emptied. It was as slippery as a polished truncheon as it slid out of me…inch by gleaming inch until at last, my vulva surrendered the final morsel and his great purple knob bobbed free. In the silvery light of the moon I could see my cunt gaping open like a surprised mouth with the gleam of juices at its lips; and then he pressed forward again and I swallowed him, my flesh rolling aside to take his turgid rod into my body again. I could hear myself groaning, strident in the quiet night and I could do nothing to stop it. He began to pump and I was being filled, ravished: fucked half to death, and it was exquisite. The long piston stroking, back and forth in and out; the frantic clasp of my vulva on the shining, wet shining rod of his cock; the soggy sound of our genitals and the harsh rasp of our breath. His hands half lifting me, raising me so I was balanced on the back of the bench with one leg hooked over. The metal edge pressing against my clit and the great shaft still sliding in and out and his fingers dipping now into my ass, drilling into that last sacred place where no one had ever been before.
And it went on and on, longer than I’d ever been screwed before…but then it wasn’t just fucking: it was a whole experience – a total ravishing of every thing I had to offer, of plunging fingers and cock, of clasping cunt and crimping anus; of splattering, frothy juices as he rummaged deep inside my grasping body. For the first time in my life I was filled – I mean, really filled, being lifted on a spinning vortex of pleasure that nothing could stop: a bubble of pure ecstasy that grew slowly from the tight wet channel of my cunt, expanding exponentially though my body until it could no longer be denied. It raced like a super nova through tissue and tendons and twitching muscles until it exploded in my brain like a bomb. Jesus, God, it was good! I’d felt nothing like it before: a wave of pure pleasure that consumed me – that took the millions of cells in my body and shook them like little rag dolls in the awesome, churning power of a Tsunami.
And as I came I felt the sudden grip of his hands like steel clamps on my hips, and for a few infinitesimal moments I felt his cock swell inside me like the shaft of some great rabid dog. He was groaning, a harsh wrenching sound drawn from somewhere deep inside him, rising as the bubble of his own pleasure seized him and whisked him upwards until with a final cry he burst inside me. Jets of steaming jism splattering into my body…so fucking hot, like magma erupting in the deepest recess of my twitching cunt. I was aware of my voice, broken and gusty as I twitched in ecstasy, urging him on. ‘Ah, fuck…fuck, Jake. I feel it…so fucking hot, Jake. Your sperm in my cunt…filling me. Go, baby, spray into me….fill me.’
‘I will, I will. Jesus, Rachel. I’m filling you.’ His mouth close to my ear as he leaned over me and his cock thrummed and jolted inside me, releasing ribbons of burning jism. ‘Ah, Christ, Rachel. You’re so fucking tight…take it, baby, take it all.’
‘I will, I will.’ My cunt sucking at him like a whore’s mouth, drawing the seed out of his twitching balls. ‘I’ve got it, baby. I’ve got it.’
And then, at last, it was over. He was slumped over me, his weight oppressive, and I could still feel his cock twitching inside. At length he withdrew and I staggered to my feet and regarded him for the first time in the thin, silvery moonlight.
What can you say to someone that you’ve never met before, that you know nothing about other than his cock is huge and he’s just given you the most incredible orgasm? Do you thank them? Do you hug, or touch, or do you just walk away? Nothing I had ever done before prepared me for this and so I just stared at him and said nothing. I could feel his semen dripping from me, sliding down my thighs, soaking my knickers; and I could feel the tenderness of my labia where his pubic bone had battered me.
If you were to ask me what I was thinking at that moment it would be hard to say – confusion, mostly. I’d come her determined not to do what I’d just done, and now I needed time to think about it, to reconcile everything that had happened. It sounds prissy, I know, but remember that I’d never, ever done anything like this before. I could see his eyes glinting in the soft light as he regarded me. I knew what he’d be thinking – that I was a slut: the easiest fuck ever, and that made me cheap. I guess I expected him to leave, right then – to tuck his shrinking wet cock back in his pants and say ‘Thanks, Babe,’ or something else factious, and walk away, whistling. But he didn’t…he just stood there and looked at me with an almost quizzical expression on his face until I felt compelled to speak.
‘What?’ I said.
‘Then I’d better go.’ I bent down, looking for my knickers that somehow, in the heat of the moment had got torn off. I needed time to think.
‘Can I see you again?’
I didn’t answer. The last thing I wanted was to discuss another date. I was almost traumatised by the intensity of what had happened. I could feel his seed cooling on my skin as it slid out of me, and I suddenly remembered that I wasn’t on the pill. Jesus! Tony always wore a rubber. Fuck. I needed time to think.
‘I don’t know, Jake.’ My hands were scrabbling around the bench, looking for the elusive scrap of silk. ‘I need time -’
He reached forward and touched me. ‘I’d really like to, Rachel. You’re great.’
I gave up on finding my knickers and stood up, backing away from him. I had to get away, to be alone…to figure out how the hell this had happened and what I was going to do about it.
‘I’m sorry, Jake. I have to go.’ My voice babbling, close to tears. ‘I can’t…I mean, I just don’t know.’
And I turned and ran and left him there, my mind full of him and me and what we’d done. The smell of our fucking was still in my nostrils and lingering memory of the shattering ecstasy of my orgasm and the searing heat of his jism as he filled me. God, what had I done?
‘I’ll call you,’ he called after me. ‘Tomorrow, Rachel. I’ll call you.’
Tomorrow. That was another day, but first I had to get through the rest of this one.
In my dream Rachel was tied to a bed and Jake was crouched over her, watching as the tip of his cock teased aside the wet lips of her pussy.
He pressed forward and I cried out as he slid into her but they could not hear me, and so I watched as she swallowed him up. Her body was arching up to meet his thrusts, her eyes on his face as they fucked. Long, deep strokes. I could hear the wet sucking sounds of her cunt and her sighs and groans of pleasure, and the frenetic creak of the bedsprings as he pounded into her body. My fingers were in my pussy, desperate for his thickness, to feel the river of his cum frothing around my fingertips, but it was like a dry well. And when I looked down I saw my belly was huge, with the skin glossy and tight and the little blue veins like a spider’s web under the translucent milky white skin; and I heard them laugh as they talked about me.
‘Bec’s up the duff,’ Rachel said. ‘Stupid little bitch.’
‘Her cunt will be slack. Nobody will fuck her now.’ Jake’s voice was breathless as he hammered into her.
‘She had her chance. I told her to have fun while she could. Now she’s got a bellyful of arms and legs.’
‘Yeah. Stupid bitch. Not like you, Rach.’
I thrust my fingers deeper into my pussy and played there, feeling the moisture appear, watching as she took him. Watching as his shaft appeared and disappeared, watching the tight ring of her vulva stretched around him. God, I needed him!
Jake pulled out and spurted over her, and I saw the long opal streaks of his seed as they appeared on her skin. Streams of it, splattering over the golden sun-tanned belly and pert little breasts, pooling in the pit of her belly button. Ah, God, it should have been me.
And as I watched they faded away, and I began to spiral up into the light of day.
‘Bec! Wake up!’
I opened my eyes and the agony of my dream was snatched away. Suzy was sitting on my bed, her eyes on my face.
She lifted her hand from my shoulder and smiled. ‘Jesus! I thought you were having a fit – moaning and crying out. What the hell were you dreaming about?’
‘Nothing…just a nightmare.’
She laughed. ‘Some nightmare. I reckon your whole hand is in your pussy.’
I glanced down. The sheets were pulled away and my fingers were curled under my panties, a dark stain at their crutch. ‘And you were calling out to Rachel,’ she said. ‘What’s the little gem done now?’
‘Stole my guy.’ I removed my fingers and stretched. ‘And then rooted him while I watched.’
‘Sounds like her. You know she’s due back tomorrow?’
‘Yeah. The end of our peace and quiet.’
Suzy stood up and looked down at me. ‘Perhaps we take her too seriously – I mean, you didn’t believe all that crap about that guy she shagged, did you? You know…whatshisname with the big dick?’
‘Jake.’ The name slipped out from my lips before I could stop it. Why wouldn’t it? I’d been thinking of him almost non stop for the past six days. There must have been five messages on Rachel’s emails begging me to meet him again. I was still thinking about it, and now my time was almost up. ‘Who knows, Suzy. You can never tell with Rachel.’
‘Well, I’m off to work. You OK?’
‘Be good, then.’ She smiled and left the room and I sank back on the pillows, thinking. The dream had left me unsettled. I guess it made me feel that whatever I did I’d always be second fiddle to Rachel. That’s just the way it was, and I knew, deep inside, there was nothing I could do about it, and perhaps that was why I’d fiddled and farted away the week and done nothing about what had happened. Typical me, I guess, finding it easier to do nothing.
But the dream filled me with resolve – there was still one more night, and if I didn’t take the chance then that would be gone too, and I’d always regret it. And what was the worst that could happen? He’d fuck me? Too late. That I’d get pregnant? May be too late for that, too. That I’d not enjoy it? Fat chance. I remembered way I’d writhed under his cock and the spine shattering cum I’d had, and the subsequent feeling of euphoria that had lasted for days. Just one more time, Bec. Do it!
And so, God help me, I went into Rachel’s room and I opened her email account and typed out a message, my fingers trembling with haste. Tonight. 8pm, same place. For a moment I regarded the characters on the screen, knowing that the chances were I’d live to regret it…but what the fuck. I pressed the send button and watched as my invitation was sent, knowing that this was my last chance and that when Rachel came back there’d be all hell to pay. There was no doubt in my mind she’d find out – Jake would mention how good it had been and it would take her a heartbeat to figure out what I’d done, and the vindictive little bitch would make my life hell. But now the decision had been made and I felt a sudden lifting of the spirit. All I had to do was to turn up and enjoy Jake one more time.
It never occurred to me that she already knew.
I’m not a computer freak. I know how to turn one on and I can figure out how to use it, but I just don’t get the full extent of what you can do with them. If I’d thought about it I suppose I would have figured that Rachel could access her emails from Fiji but I would never, in a million years, have thought that she would. I guess I figured she’d be on her back for most of the week and sleeping off her hangovers for the rest, but I was wrong.
About the time I sent the last email Rachel was in her room. She opened her server and read the latest offering from Jake. It was all about how great she had been on Saturday, and how he hoped she would meet him again, and of course it took her a nanosecond to figure out that something odd was going on. And so she delved back a little bit and found the emails that I had sent in her name, and suddenly it was clear to her.
She would have sat back on the bed and thought about it for a moment, astonished by my duplicity. An image of me would have appeared in her mind in keeping with what she thought of me: prissy, fussy and dull, dressed in old fashioned clothes and fucked-up Elizabeth Taylor hairdo. She would have laughed at the sheer improbability of what I’d done and perhaps there might even have been a gleam of understanding. But underneath there would have been a burning anger that I could do such a thing; that I had been in her room when she explicitly told me not to, and that I had dared to pretend I was her.
But I would never have guessed what she did about it. For as I went back to my room, my mind filled with excitement about what the night would bring, my dear little sister tapped out a message to Jake that I would never see. A message that asked him to do something that would change my life for ever.
It was raining when I left home. I could feel the coarse rub of my raincoat against my naked skin, and my pussy tightened at the thought of how deliciously slutty that was. Little Bec McFadden, going out to fuck in a park wearing a raincoat and nothing else. And as I drove I remembered that Rachel would be back tomorrow and the game would be up and it caused me to think about what I’d like to do on this, my last night. It was the last wishes of a condemned woman, if you like. Part of me was still little timid Rebecca, who up to a week ago thought the missionary position was exciting: but the larger part was the new little slut who could do anything she wanted.
My head was filled with visions of what could happen…what would happen if I let it. I’d seen porn stars doing it on the internet and never, ever thought it could be me. But why not? If ever the time was right it was now, and I might never have the chance again. So you want to fuck me in the mouth Jake? No problem. Cum over my face? Be my guest. Up the arse then? God, yes!
And so I drove through the rain to the little car park and my pussy was dripping in anticipation. I parked the car and ran along the pathway, down past the little stream to the Gazebo, and I stood there with my heart hammering with excitement, listening to the sound of the rain and waiting for my lover to arrive.
The street lamp along the pathway had been fixed and I saw him as he passed under it, a dark figure with his hands in his pockets. From where I stood his image was foreshortened, his shoulders massive and his torso short and powerful. The material of his coat gleamed wetly in the diffused light and his face was hidden under his hood, a dark oval that bobbed and jerked as he walked towards me. It was a sinister image and a picture of the grim reaper suddenly popped into my mind: a dark figure in a shroud striding forwards to claim his prize. What did I know of him? Nothing. Not even his second name. He was a faceless, nameless guy who was there for only one purpose, and I suddenly realised that was part of the attraction…an almost total anonymity that would allow me to do anything I wanted and then walk away without judgment. And so I moved quietly to the back of the Gazebo and I opened the buttons of my coat to reveal my nakedness, and I waited for him to climb the stairs and take me.
I’ve thought about that moment a million times since then – whether I could have known what was to happen, whether I could have prevented it. But how could I have even guessed? How was I to know what Rachel had done?
And would it have changed anything, if I had known? Would I have run? And what difference would that have made? The chances are I would have been hunted down like a trapped animal in the park, and nothing would have changed. All I know is that it did happen, and it was a defining moment in my life.
But that was to be later, so when Jake stepped into the Gazebo nothing of that was in my mind. I watched as he took off his coat and dropped it onto the ground, and I saw him stoop over the little bench and place something on it. A moment later a match flared and the Gazebo was suffused with the soft light of a candle. It was a pool of intimacy in the wet darkness around us, and I moved forward quietly to stand at its periphery, waiting for him to be aware I was there, waiting for it to start.
He looked up and saw me, and he said nothing. I’d never seen his face before but in the soft light I could see it now – a good face, strong and handsome. I could see his hungry eyes on my body, sliding down from my face to my tits, and then over the creamy plain of my thighs to my pussy. I could feel my nipples as stiff as sticks in the cool evening air, and the glow of lust warmed my belly as his gaze roamed over me. God, I wanted him. My pussy was a river, wet and open, waiting for him, gasping to be filled.
He started to fumble with the buttons on his shirt and he tore them off, and then the belt on his jeans…sliding them off his legs, flinging them on the floor until he too was naked. And all the time his eyes were on mine, speaking volumes of lust and need and want. His chest was broad, tapering to a flat belly covered in a pelt of dark hair, and his cock reared from below it like a cobra, thick and massively erect, capped by a great purple knob that bobbed and nodded as he stood, waving slightly as if it was already seeking a place to enter.
For a moment longer we stared at one another and then with a cry I ran forward and fell to my knees before him. My hand closed over his shaft and I pressed it to my lips, rubbing it against them before opening my mouth and taking him in. There was a sudden tang of salt on my taste buds as he popped inside and then the slippery texture of his love juice oozing over my tongue…a little river of it streaming into me, bathing the insides of my cheeks as he slid into my face. My mouth was stretched around him and I felt the long tube of his cock rubbing against my lips as it slid in. I felt the knob lodge at the back of my throat and then my hands were around his shaft, gripping it, feeling the warm rubbery resilience of his flesh, kneading it to milk his juice. His fingers were in my hair, holding my head, pumping me back and forth to fuck his shaft. Dear God…how much juice! Filling my mouth so I had to gulp it down, feeling the hot slipperiness of it ease past my tonsils in slimy lumps to slide into my belly. Fuck, it was good! How come I’d never done it like this before? How had I ever missed the sheer fucking eroticism of having a cock filling your mouth, of slavering over a great trembling knob, knowing that soon it would be burrowing into the very core of my body?
In the soft yellow glow of the candle I could see his face, looking down at me as I serviced him…a mixture almost of pain and pleasure. I moved one hand to his balls and held them lightly, feeling them move in their sack as I bobbed back and forth. I could feel their weight and their energy and I imagined the load of jism inside them, bubbling like a cauldron as it waited for the opportunity to splatter into my cunt.
It was raining heavily now and the Gazebo was filled with the roar of falling water as it struck the roof above our heads and cascaded from the gutters. If anything it isolated us – just him and me in this little cocoon, strangers brought together just to fuck. The noise of water was almost deafening but I could still hear him groaning as his pleasure grew. His cock was even harder now and it slid back and forth into my mouth in short, rapid strokes. My jaw was aching but I didn’t care…I was seized with the need to take him as deeply as I could. In and out, the knob battering the back of my throat and rubbing on the soft flesh of my cheeks. There was so much fluid there, too much to swallow and so it dribbled from my lips to hang in long slippery ropes before splattering over my breasts.
I thought he would cum then and I was ready for it, but he didn’t. With a cry of lust he pulled back and for a moment he stared at me. His cock was bobbing, red and wet and angry and I went to touch it again but he shook his head.
‘Fuck me, Rachel.’ His voice was hoarse, barely audible above the roar of the falling rain. ‘Sit on me. Swallow me up with your cunt.’
His clothes were scraps of darkness and he gathered them quickly and lay on them, staring up at me with desperate eyes. ‘Come on. Fuck me…sit on me.’
I squatted over him and took his shaft in my hand. The great purple head was like a mushroom as I lodged against it, nuzzling into the crack while I lowered myself. We both watched in that yellow, flickering light as it entered my body: the moment of resistance as I held him outside and then the sudden release as my vulva opened to accept him. Jesus, it was tight! I could feel my cunt clasping him, gripping hard as he slid upward, and I groaned aloud with the delicious sensation of being utterly filled.
Looking back on it, I guess it was orchestrated. You know, Jake to be first…to put me in a position where the others could follow. Perhaps they’d done it before, or maybe they’d just agreed how it would be. In any case, I hadn’t noticed them creeping up the stairs, waiting in the dark shadows for their moment. Jake pulled my face to his and my body rocked forward, and then the first of them moved. I felt the rough clasp of another set of hands drawing my buttocks apart, and almost immediately the caress of a tongue sliding in the crevice between them, wriggling and warm and wet. It touched the edge of the shaft buried inside me and then slid back, dipping over my twitching little rosebud, dwelling there for a moment before thrusting back again. The sensation was exquisite, and it was totally unexpected.
I tried to sit up, but Jake held me close and his lips were pressed against my ear. ‘It’s my brother, Rachel,’ he said. And there’s another. There are three big cocks to fuck you tonight.’
‘Christ, Jake! No!’I tried to break free but he was too strong.
He laughed. ‘But you asked for it, Rachel…and here we are, and me and my brothers are looking forward to it so much.’
And all the time that warm slippery mouth was on me, the little pointed tongue dipping into the secret little crease between my cheeks to tease the opening while Jake’s cock slid back and forth inside me. Never, in all my years, had I felt anything so good, and I felt myself surrender to it. I looked up and there was the third figure stood back watching, his cock hard in his hand.
‘You love it,’ Jake whispered, ‘don’t you, Rachel.’
‘Yes, God yes! I can feel his mouth on my arse.’
‘And my cock inside you. How does that feel?’
‘Tight. So fucking tight. Ah…Jesus, Jake. Fuck, that’s good -’
‘Three cocks then, Rachel. Isn’t that what you wanted?’ and before I could answer his lips crushed against me again and his tongue slid into the warm, slippery cavern of my mouth. I could feel the warmth of his brother’s breath on my anus as he blew softly on the crimping little hole, alternating with the thrumming tip of his tongue. I guess I knew what it meant but I just didn’t care. I’d passed the point of reason…I just wanted to be filled – to be fucked in every way I knew and a few more besides. In that little cocoon of roaring water and soft golden candlelight I wanted to be coated with hot steaming sperm, to smear it over my trembling body and taste it rank upon my lips. And if that meant more than one guy, so much the better.
And then Jake pushed me gently up and I saw the third brother had moved closer, standing astride with his prick bobbing near my mouth. He shuffled forward and I took it in my hand and fed it into my face, tasting it, feeling the lovely slippery hardness sliding into my throat. He was smaller than Jake and I found I could curl my tongue over him as he fucked my face.
It was about then I lost control. There was too much happening for me to keep track of it all. It was almost as if my body had suddenly been divided into zones, and my mind jumped from one to another to dwell on the delicious sensations of what was happening there. Jake’s hardness thrusting upwards to my belly, my cunt ring burning as it stretched around his thickness; the cock at my lips, sliding back and forth, leaking into my mouth, and now the feel of a third prick pressing hard against my anus, an irrepressible force that could not be denied. I felt my sphincter expanding and a moment later the head popped into me, and I was full there too.
Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought this would happen to me, and yet here I was in that little oasis of warm flickering candlelight in the rain swept night – enjoying it…no, loving it. Loving the feeling of being totally possessed, of complete and utter fullness as those three cocks slid back and forth in every useful orifice I possessed. And I understood too the amazing power of that moment: to give or not to give, to accept them into the warm core of my body because I wanted it. To put them in my debt as they took their pleasure in my flesh, their minds filled with the thought of using me as a harbour for their seething sperm. And yet parallel with that was the knowledge that I was nothing more than a cheap whore, a degraded little slut kneeling on a dirty floor in a public place, giving myself for nothing as the three men whose names I did not even know fucked me for their own gratification.
And so I sweated and grunted and fucked, and my mind was filled with visions of lust and power and degradation, and the incredible sensation of my flesh being penetrated over and over and over again. My arsehole was burning and my cunt felt full enough to explode and I could hardly breathe for the swollen knob jammed in my mouth…but it was amazing. What girl ever gets to experience that?
Jake’s hands were on my hips as I gyrated above him, and his cock was plunging into me in perfect timing with his brothers. All three shafts were entering and withdrawing in synchronicity now; I could feel my arse and cunt and throat bulging with their size as they entered me, a dull ache of bruised and stretched flesh as they battered my twitching body. It went on and on and on and I loved it; I could hear myself grunting, a hoarse primeval sound from somewhere deep in my throat and I thought I could hear the wet sucking noise of our fucking. On and on, until I thought that I would surely be fucked to death and they would find me in the morning stiff and cold and filled with seething sperm, and with a smile upon my lips.
And then, for the first time, Jake’s tempo changed. His hands reached up and gripped my hips and he began to thrust harder. I was lifted with each thrust, bouncing like a little boat in a tempest, and I worked with him. I swivelled downwards with every thrust and clenched my cunt to squeeze him. I couldn’t see his face but I knew he was close – I could feel it in the urgency of his movements and hear it in the hoarse rasping of his breath.
He called out to his brothers. ‘I’m close, guys,’ he said. ‘Ah, fuck…it’s cumming soon. Fuck her, ah, fuck her and cum with me.’
They were a team of champions, those guys. They must have done this before because they started to slam into me with renewed urgency. Their hands gripped me hard and I heard their laboured breathing as they went to me with renewed energy. My arsehole was battered and my throat was skewered, and all I could do was ride out the storm. And I guess I was urging them on, working with them as best I could. I wanted them to spray into me together, to feel and taste buckets of sperm filling every orifice of my body. I imagined how it would jet into me with such force and volume that it would somehow meet in the middle, a vortex of bubbling creamy jism impregnating every corner of my body. God, I needed it. And so I writhed and twisted and grunted as they fucked me, and I encouraged them with little cries of lust and excitement, and I waited with rising excitement as I felt them growing close.
Jake was first, but only by a second or two. His hands gripped my hips and he thrust upwards deeply, burying himself as far into my body as he could. I guess I’d got used to the size of his cock by then because I took it all – every fucking millimetre of it. I could feel the bell-end somewhere deep, pressed right up into the centre of my belly, and I felt the sudden flooding warmth of his cum as the first monstrous jet leapt from the end of his cock. And almost immediately the guy behind me unleashed his load too…I could feel his shaft jerking as he did, feel the scalding heat of his juice as it sprayed into my bowels. I thought I’d might have been desensitised by their battering but I swear I could feel it: the tingling impact of their jets on my twitching flesh and the flooding warmth as it filled me. They were crying out, gasping, holding themselves in as deeply as they could, and it seemed to go on and on and on.
And the incredible feeling of those two huge cocks jerking and spurting inside me triggered my own cum…I mean, why wouldn’t it? Bright lights burst inside my brain and I heard myself shrieking as the waves of pleasure took me. My body was shaking, trembling like I was in a fever, and my cunt and arse seized the two twitching, jolting pricks in a grip of iron as I tumbled over the edge of ecstasy. It was mind blowing…amazing, a roller-coaster of crashing waves and shrieking wind and grasping, clutching, wet flesh. It was better than anything I’d ever had before, or even dreamed of having. I was gasping, my lungs desperate for air as my body thrummed about those two huge, squirting, jolting shafts inside me – and then the third guy spurted into my mouth.
Like I said last time, you guys can count on me to continue writing by hook or by crook.
Unfortunately, all of my previous data got erased when my old computer died, which—combined with a new job—slowed down my ability to write. But like I said, I’m determined to finish this story for you all, so after much toil, here’s the fifth chapter of Daddy’s Little Psychopath
Now for my new readers: this is the third installment of my Daddy’s Little Psychopath series. Chapter One can be found here, Chapter Two can be found here, Chapter Three can be found here and Chapter Four can be found here. You can expect this story to contain the following tags: cuckquean, father-daughter incest, mother-daughter incest, rough sex, reluctance, and blackmail. If that isn’t your cup of tea, you can try most of my other series, as they are quite different from this one.
Please, please, please leave a comment below. I can’t stress enough how much feedback helps me write.
Addendum to editors: This story does not contain any scenes of explicit sex with characters under the legal age of consent (18).
In the past few weeks, David had begun to use the pool continuously. Almost overnight, he suddenly had a use for it, and our poolside had sprung to life once again after years of neglect. Except this time, David wasn’t alone. It wasn’t Ronnie that was joining him, either . . . it was . . . those other women.
Young girls, one after another. David began inviting them to our home and treating them to dips in our pool. For years, he’d been procrastinating to figure out how to make the Jacuzzi feature work, but he got it up and running in only a day just so that he could get those other floozies to come and take their tops off for him. First every other night, then practically every, David shared the pool with some hot young thing, and sometimes even two or three. One night, I came home from a late night at work to find David sitting out in the Jacuzzi with a redhead on one arm, a blonde in another, and that Katy girl sitting atop David’s lap while facing him. I couldn’t see anything below the surface of the water, but the look on David’s face told me that his cock was inside her, and she was fucking him something good.
One of the other girls licked and nibbled on David’s ear while the other stroked her hands all over his chest. It was obvious that my husband was in pure bliss, as he couldn’t even keep his eyes focused. Katy’s eyes were locked on his, and she often leaned forward to kiss him on the lips while she gently ground her hips into his. Her body was sparkling and wet from the water and lights of the Jacuzzi, and her tits were dripping with steam and sweat. David sat back and let his three lovers do all of the work, while he simply enjoyed himself like a king on his throne.
Eventually, I heard David cry out, “Oh shit! Oh shit! Almost there!”
Katy’s chest began heaving and she fucked him faster, placing her hands on his shoulders while she bucked on top of him like a cowgirl.
“Please, David! Cum inside me! I need your hot cum in me, please! I need it so bad!”
The two continued fucking for at least another three minutes until David began grunting in earnest. I saw his expression lock, and he looked passionately into Katy’s eyes as they both did what I assume was a mutual orgasm. I saw their gazes remain transfixed while David came off his high enough to realize that I was standing just inside the house, looking out into the patio. David’s eyes looked right at me, and he didn’t flinch, waiver, or show a hint of regret or hesitation. He stared at me with the eyes of a lion.
It was at that time that I realized I hadn’t yet even taken off my coat or dropped my shopping bags. I had been so engaged in what was going on outside that I didn’t even remember what I was supposed to be doing inside.
Eventually, Katy rose, her naked ass coming above the water’s surface just for a moment as she lifted herself away from David’s cock. David’s attention went from me to her again, and I watched as she gently pulled both of her arms until she went down on her knees. Then, David’s hand touched the top of her head and pushed it under the surface, keeping her held underwater right below my husband’s legs. David’s eyes glazed over once more, and I knew that Katy was deeply sucking his throat, even while his strong hand kept her submerged.
She was down there for some time, and I started to worry. By reflex, I watched her head attempt to rise at least twice, but David kept her down there. He forced her to keep his plugged in her mouth and under the water. My concern only grew when her attempts to rise were thwarted three extra times, but David finally let her up the fourth time.
Katy burst from the water hastily, choking desperately and clamoring for breath. I thought she would be furious, or at least upset, but she threw herself back into my husband’s arms yet again and their tongues slithered together lustfully.
“So . . . INTENSE . . .” she gasped. “Makes me . . . cum every time!”
David smiled at her and then turned his attention to one of the other girls. “Come on, now, she’s got me hard again.”
The redhead’s grin went from ear to ear as she rose to set herself upon my husband’s lap . . . and it all began again.
You may be wondering how all of this made me feel. After all, my husband had just brazenly fucked some teenage slut in our pool and manhandled her without giving a care to me. But, the truth was, I didn’t know how to feel about it. On the one-hand, I was used to David’s extra-marital capers. It had been a few months after I’d discovered that he’d begun an affair without own daughter, but I’d also learned that it wasn’t largely his fault. Ronnie, as it turned out, was a vengeful and manipulative bitch who’d been scheming to take my husband away from me for years, and she had finally succeeded . . . sexually, at least.
But David had still loved me. He and I were trapped under Rhonda’s rule, but we still had each other. He never stopped making love to me, or holding me in his arms, or making me feel like I was the woman he’d married. At least, at first.
In the past weeks, David had suddenly changed. I had no idea what had caused it, but I was sure Ronnie was behind it at least partly. Ronnie was behind everything. I don’t know what she did or said to him, but David had become almost a different person overnight. I had always known that David reluctantly enjoyed having sex with Rhonda . . . after all, our daughter grew into a gorgeous, sexy woman, so why wouldn’t he . . . but as of late, the “reluctant” part had ended. Now, David fucked Rhonda, and any other woman that opened her legs for him, with utter abandon.
Twice in the past week, I had come home to find that David had taken the day off work. I knew this because the moment I opened the door, I could hear the sounds of fucking coming from out bedroom. Rhonda and I had a little . . . agreement, and she usually didn’t like to fuck David in our bed—she said the smell of my body disgusted her.
But that day, it wasn’t Rhonda I found in our bed, but Sera, one of the coeds that Rhonda had arranged to be David’s “servicers”. When I walked into the room, David was mounted between Sera’s legs, rutting away like a man possessed, making our bed creak and moan with each driving thrust as he relentless pounded the girl’s pussy. Sera’s long, shapely chocolate legs were spread wide apart, giving my husband ample access as he drilled into her tight cunt. Well, I’m assuming she was tight, anyway . . . David’s cock is impressively thick.
Sera’s mouth was wide open, and all that escaped it were cries of joy and ecstasy. It was clear that David was putting everything Rhonda had taught him about fucking to work as she slammed every inch of her pussy and kept her on the heights of ecstasy. If I had to use my womanly empathy to guess how many times Sera came then, I would put it somewhere between six and seven . . . and that was only after I’d walked into the room. Who knew how long the two of them had been at it before I arrived.
As I had so many times in the past, I found myself mesmerized. I’d been privy to threesomes with David before, but he was always much more base and animalistic when he fucked someone without me around. It sounds weird of me to say this, but I had almost begun to prefer watching David fuck someone than taking part of it myself, because I felt like David really let himself go when that happened. In the past few weeks, I had learned that watching my husband give pleasure was usually better than receiving it from him myself.
David fucked Sera without either noticing me for another twenty minutes and she came several times afterward until David finally let himself go, and came deep inside her pussy. David never wore condoms anymore, even though he had for the first few threesomes we’d had together. Now, whenever I saw him fuck someone else, it was always bare, and he always, always finished in either their ass or pussy.
I wondered whether or not he was trying to get these girls pregnant. I couldn’t imagine why—we already had five children running around the house, without even counting the triplets that David had put into our daughter.
But that was only the beginning of the change, before the true depths of his transformation could be felt. I finally realized how much of a different man my husband was one day while I was out in the garage doing some cleaning. I’d woken up pretty horny that morning, after hearing David and Ronnie fucking half the night, but when I woke up in the morning and looked for him, I entered Ronnie’s wing of the house and heard Ronnie giving the soundproof walls a true run for their money. So, I left the two of them at it and decided to work off my energy in a productive way.
I was about an hour into the task when I was carrying a box of garbage to the front of the garage, where the workers know to pick it up. The box was way more than I should have even tried to handle, and I accidentally fumbled it before I got there. With a frustrated groan, I stopped and bent myself over to begin collecting things. I was about halfway finished when I felt something bump into me from behind.
I turned in fright, and found David standing right behind me, with his hands on my hips.
“David! Where did you c—”
“Shut up and keep your voice down,” he told me. “Unless, of course, you want to attract attention . . . “
I started to ask what he was talking about, but then I felt his hands tightly grip the hem of my spandex pants, followed by a loud rip.
“David! What do you think you’re—”
Before I could say another word, David had his pants pushed down and his cock had entered me from behind. There we were, right in the back of our home while my husband thrust himself deep into me and began to fuck me. I could barely even think straight for several seconds until my mind settled down from the initial orgasm.
“David . . . ugn . . . ” I moaned, still attempting to draw some breath. “What in the world is this?”
“This, my dear, is the way it will be from now on,” David began, his hands gripping my hips tighter as he continued to pound into me. “I’m just giving you a taste.”
My knees almost buckled. David had to hold me steady while he continued to bang me in my hunched-over position.
“From now on, your job is to give me this pussy . . . or anything else that I want . . . whenever I want it . . . with no questions asked. Is that clear?”
“IS. THAT. CLEAR?”
Our home was in a tightly secluded area, but there were still people who came to the nearby parks and hillsides for recreation or wildlife observation. On top of that, this was the season when all the bird watchers liked to come out to find some rare and endangered type of fowl that lived in our area or something, so I knew that in all likelihood, other eyes weren’t far off.
The fear of being caught only enhanced the insane pleasure I felt at the moment, but it also made me more eager to give into my husband’s demands.
“Yes! Yes, it’s clear!” I agreed. “Oh, oh God . . . I’m cumming.”
“Don’t you dare,” David told me. “Sometimes, the sound of a woman’s orgasm makes me cum on reflex, and I’m not ready to blow my load just yet. First, I want to straighten out a few other things, understand?”
“L-Like what?” I asked, trying my best to keep my body in check.
“First, I want you to know that both Katy and Sera are pregnant.”
My heart skipped a beat. This was something I’d feared and knew, with the way David had been fucking them, was inevitable. Still, it made me worried. We lived in a huge home, but now we were expecting ten young legs and feet running through. What was David thinking!?
But then he continued. “I’ve come to like this. I’ve come to enjoy my new life. I’ve come to love what Ronnie does for me, and I wanted you to know that she’s replaced you as my favorite.”
Another shock went through me, but this time, it wasn’t entirely pleasurable. “David . . . what are you saying?!”
“I’m saying that, for all intents and purposes, I belong to Ronnie now. She’s done more for me in the past four years than you did throughout our entire marriage.”
I whimpered, not just from David’s words, but because I knew that Ronnie had every inch of the house bugged. So, she would know what David had just told me . . . if she wasn’t aware already.
Then I started to worry. What was this then . . . what David was doing to me now? Was this a “goodbye” fuck? Was this one final thing to remember him by before a divorce? Even after everything that he’d done for the past months, and the years I hadn’t known about before that, I still loved David . . . I still needed him. I couldn’t see my life without him at all. We’d sworn we’d always be together until death.
But if I’d already been replaced, then, he didn’t need me anymore.
“So, what I’m telling you is that you need to better earn your keep,” David spoke up. “You don’t own this house—Ronnie paid for every brick. You don’t cook, clean or watch the kids—Katy does that for us now. And you don’t give me half as much sex as any of the other girls . . . including Ronnie. So, what exactly can you do for me?”
There was a long pause where I was sure that David was waiting for an answer . . . but I couldn’t think of anything. Not like this . . . not with him both fucking me and making me feel like so much garbage at the same time. I was on the edge of both tears and orgasm at the same time.
“Since you don’t have an answer, I’ll give you what I’ve been thinking about: I want you to be ready . . . at every waking and dreaming second of every day . . . to do whatever you can to please me and Ronnie. I’m giving you this opportunity because you’ve been totally loyal to me despite everything that’s been happening in the past few years. But, that is the only courtesy I will extend. Furthermore, this offer is pending whether or not you answer the next question to my satisfaction.”
I held my breath. Despite myself, I could feel the wetness trickling from between my legs.
“Did you get your tubes tied yet?”
I gulped. “N-No. I know . . . I know I needed to, but I just haven’t—”
“Good,” David said as he reached forward and lifted my sweater above my tits, fondling them. He squeezed them vigorously, evidently more than pleased with my answer. “I want more babies from you.
“The only good thing you’ve done in your life is give me beautiful children and a daughter who’s showed me all the love a true daughter can. Other than that, what have you given me? All those years of ‘happiness’ we had together? Even a month with Ronnie easily trumps that.”
Again, I was dumbfounded. These sounded like Ronnie’s words, not David’s. Had she forced him to say these things? Maybe that was it. Maybe David was only saying this because Ronnie had made him.
I wanted to believe that. I truly did.
“Ronnie’s shown me the light,” David told me. “I only care about three things now: making my beautiful, slutty daughter happy . . . finding out how many other sluts I can fuck at any given time . . . and how many babies I can make with them. And if you aren’t adding to any of those three, then I have no use for you. Understand?”
I swallowed hard. “Y-Yes, David.”
“Hmph,” he responded. “Admittedly, I’m used to younger wombs now, so I don’t even know if one this used up can give me what I want. But, it’s mine, anyway. Understand?”
God, why was this making me shiver all over? Why was this making me so wet?! “Yes, David.”
“Furthermore, the conditions of my service to Ronnie are now the conditions of your service to me. You will not refuse me, ever. If I tell you to bend over and spread your legs, you will do it, even if I call and tell you to do it at the grocery store. You will not speak of this deal to anyone, not even Ronnie, and if you are doing anything else when I desire your pussy, you will drop whatever it is immediately and serve my needs.
“Is this understood?”
“This offer is more than fair to me,” he said. “None of the other girls are being treated so leniently.”
I don’t know why I said these next words. They . . . just slipped out of me. “T-Thank you, David.”
David gave my ass a firm slap and then I felt him begin driving harder into me. “You may cum now.”
I let go with everything I had. I’d been building up ever since he’d first forced me to hold back, and it was like setting off an atomic bomb. I came so hard that I blacked out, and only came to when I felt David squirming his cock into me, trying to coax the last bits of cum.
When he was done, he just turned and left me, forcing me to scramble back to the house to clean up and find some clothing. While I was showering I took time to absorb everything. I sank into the water and sobbed, still positively shaken.
I knew then that I’d lost the man I’d married. The David that had been with me from then on had gone, and I didn’t know if he would ever be back. It didn’t seem likely, with the way Ronnie kept him so sated and wrapped around her finger. If I had to be honest with myself, I had lost my husband months ago . . . actually, maybe even before then, when he and Ronnie first started fucking behind my back. I think this was just the pure, uncensored reality finally slapping me in the face.
David belonged fully to Ronnie now. Even his tone, his wording sounded like hers. By all rights, my marriage was over.
But, as I sat there, the obvious thought never crossed my mind. Not once did I think about leaving, or divorcing David. Not once did I think about walking away from it. Curiously, I was numb to by the time the water stopped running. Once the initial shock had died down, I was left with nothing but purpose . . . and fulfillment.
This “new” David excited me as much as he terrified me.
THREE DAYS LATER
I had to admit that I was amazed at how eager to follow my orders The Bitch had become. Over the past few months, I’d noticed some sort of change in her. It happened right after the day I saw Daddy going out to meet her near the garage. Unfortunately, I never found out what happened between the two of them that day, because by sheer bad luck, my audio surveillance file was corrupted. I ordered Daddy to tell me some of the details the next time we fucked, but it would have been nicer to hear it straight from the recording.