Obsession

by Cathryn Cooper

  Grassy knolls and broken fences bounded the path and a sign saying DANGER and BLASTING IN PROGRESS hung lopsided from a broken post.

  She stopped in her tracks and looked down into a deep hole that had once been a quarry. Like a wound where a giant abscess had burst, it bit into the crust of the earth.

  As the dogs bounded on and chased frightened rabbits and birds back into the foliage of the wood, Katie dropped to her knees and then forward onto her hands so she could look over the edge of the cliff and down into the gaping hole.

  The quarry itself was dramatic enough, but what she saw below her on one of its ledges was even more so.

  A black car with chrome headlights was parked there and draped over its bonnet was a man and a woman.

  The car was instantly recognisable. So too were the people who pumped like crazy over its bonnet.

  ‘Imran and Maude!’ she gasped. ‘Well! Would you believe it?’

  She clasped her hand across her mouth. Had they heard her? The breeze seemed to be blowing her hair and her words away from her face rather than towards them. Their voices would carry to her, but hers would not carry to them.

  The grass was wet beneath her hands, and the ground hard to her knees, but the scene before her was too surprising for her to worry about personal comfort.

  With baited breath, she watched the brown bottom of Imran rise and fall against the white flesh of Lady Maude.

  She was out of sight and yet she could hear what they were saying, hear the slurping of juices and the thudding of flesh against flesh.

  ‘Take off the rest of your clothes,’ she heard Imran say.

  He retrieved his tool from Lady Maude and stood upright. Katie, hardly able to contain her amazement, looked from one to the other.

  Imran stood with his trousers undone, his brown tool proud and glistening with the juices he had taken from Lady Maude.

  Her own breathing quickened as she saw Lady Maude take off her stiff tweed skirt, her Argyll pullover and her voluminous underwear. Once all that was off, Maude was left standing in sensible lisle stockings and no-nonsense brown shoes.

  Her breasts were large with brown nipples. Her belly was white and trembled like blancmange, and her thighs were thick and well muscled.

  Like the weeds that sprouted through the stone of the redundant quarry, a shrub of pubic hair divided one thigh from the other.

  ‘Let me kiss it,’ she heard Maude wheedle, her gaze fixed on Imran’s shining weapon. At the same time, one hand reached to touch it, but was hit away.

  ‘No. Put your hands behind your back and get to your knees.’

  Katie bit her lip. Her own sex was aching now as she watched the middle-aged woman kneel on the sharp bed of the quarry. Her own knees were sore where she was kneeling. The place where Lady Maude happened to be was far rougher and completely devoid of grass.

  Lady Maude, with head thrown back, was looking adoringly up at the Indian servant. As ordered, her hands were behind her back. She stayed completely still as he moved closer to her and the tip of his penis tapped the end of her nose.

  Slowly, her face disappeared between his legs. The length of his phallus, Katie supposed, must be resting on her face and his balls nestling against her lips. Just the thought of such things made her own sex feel as heavy as lead, her own juice spread like melting honey over her inner thighs.

  She was right about Imran’s intentions.

  ‘Suck my jewels,’ she heard him say. ‘Suck them well, my mistress, and I might once again favour you with my stiffness, my lingam, my rod of Hermes.’

  There was no verbal response from Lady Maude. No sound except for birds, breeze and the sound of Katie’s own breath.

  Imran moved. ‘Now lick the length of my lingam, my mistress. Lick it from its stem to its tip.’

  Katie licked the dryness of her lips as Lady Maude licked the stem of Carew’s Indian servant.

  Slowly, she licked from the crisp hair of his balls, her tongue idly and wetly making its way towards his crown. When she reached that point, she attempted to take it in her mouth. Such a delicacy was denied her. There was a loud slapping sound as Imran’s dark hand hit her face.

  ‘Not yet, my lady, my mistress. Not until I say so. Lick me until I tell you to stop.’

  Lady Maude did as ordered, her tongue flicking in short and swift strokes, then rolling long and languorous in more sweeping statements.

  Excitedly, Katie watched as Imran’s rod took on greater proportions. Rearing upwards, its glistening head tapped at his own belly, then tapped on the nose of Lady Maude. That it did so seemed to please him. He smiled each time he did it. Like a chastisement, Katie decided, some proof of his own superiority over the lady he called mistress.

  ‘Now,’ he said in a matter-of-fact, but gleeful way, ‘I will allow you to take my lingam into your mouth.’ Without hesitating, Lady Maude did exactly that, half of Imran’s penis disappearing in the process.

  Is she starving? Katie asked herself. Yes. She swallows it as though she is starving. Not such a big surprise really bearing in mind the sexual preferences of Sir Charles.

  This, thought Katie, could be interesting. Better than the theatre. Better than a hot day at Henley with a hot man in a punt. All alertness, she made herself more comfortable, sank onto her arms and left her rear high in the air.

  Down below in the quarry, things were hotting up. More of the dark brown penis disappeared as the Indian placed his hands upon Lady Maude’s head and forced more of himself into her mouth.

  For a moment, as her head tilted backwards, Lady Maude seemed to struggle, to choke even. But then, as if she had acclimatised herself to having his length in her throat, she stayed immobile, her eyes closed, her cheeks moving like the gills of a fish as she sucked on the virile appendage of Carew’s personal servant.

  ‘I suppose you would now like me to put my lingam into your yoni.’ Imran stood with hands on hips as he said it, his shoulders back and looking down on his mistress.

  Role reversal, thought Katie, and both were enjoying it; Imran being the master for a change and Lady Maude the used and abused servant.

  Lady Maude, of course, could not answer his question by virtue of her mouth being so full.

  ‘Of course,’ the man went on, ‘you will have to prove your loyalty to me, your worship of my ways and my body.’

  Again, of course, there was no response.

  Perhaps, thought Katie, there was some secret sign language between them or, failing that, pure telepathy.

  Was she right? she asked herself, and watched, enthralled, as Imran’s ripe rod slid out of Lady Maude’s mouth.

  He turned his back on her, then purposely let down his trousers a little more. Brown and shiny as a conker, the sight of his naked backside seemed to mesmerise the Lady Maude. Hands still behind her back, she walked on her knees to him. Katie winced. It was only a matter of two or three steps, yet on that gravel, it must be painful.

  But what was the purpose of this? Her question was immediately answered.

  Pressing her face against Imran’s behind, Lady Maude lovingly kissed each tight orb. She repeated the process a number of times, then began to lick his flesh, her tongue running over each buttock before diving in between.

  All the while, Irnran stood upright and looked straight ahead as though he were studying the walls of the quarry. Only his penis betrayed what he was feeling as it reared and waved like a thick wand in a strong wind. At last, he spoke.

  ‘And now, my mistress, I will give you the benefit of my lingam in your yoni.’ He had turned round to face Maude by the time he had finished the sentence. He looked down at her. Katie looked too. Maude’s face was bright and her eyes were shiny.

  ‘Please,’ she heard her implore. ‘Oh please let me have it now.’

  He smiled. ‘
In time. And only if I have your loyalty.’

  ‘Oh yes. Yes!’ returned Maude.

  ‘Then you must prove that too.’

  Eyes shining and slightly fearful, Lady Maude went down on all fours.

  Imran swung his foot which landed in the fleshiest part of her buttocks. Lady Maude went flying in the dirt.

  ‘Now, my mistress. Perhaps you would be so good as to drape yourself over the car bonnet.’

  Maude struggled to her feet and this time lay back down over the bonnet of the car, her breasts heaving and her legs wide open.

  ‘Yes!’ Katie exclaimed quietly, her breath catching in her throat. ‘Yes. Do it now.’ She wriggled her own posterior as she watched the brown bottom of Imran clench tightly as he thrust between Lady Maude’s open legs.

  ‘Oh, yes!’ she exclaimed, her voice half choked with excitement. Then she gasped as a twig snapped behind her and a heavy hand landed on her behind.

  ‘Undo your trousers.’ The voice was husky, low but recognisable.

  Katie looked over her shoulder. Sir Charles was the voice, and Sir Charles was the face. He was leering. It didn’t matter that his wife was being screwed ragged down below. His mind and his gaze were firmly fixed on her behind. His tongue wetted his lips.

  Quickly, she thought about her options. She did not want those in the quarry to discover she was here. She also didn’t want Carew to know that she was Katie as well as being Oliver. On top of that, there was a wetness between her thighs that needed to be dealt with.

  Sir Charles’ hands were upon her bottom.

  ‘My, but you have such a nice behind, my dear boy. So nice. I bet your pecker is just as nice too. Not that I’m too concerned with that. Not yet. I’d much rather take you first and inspect you afterwards.’

  Katie answered quickly. ‘Alright, sir. Alright.’ Purposely, she adopted a hint of fear in her voice. ‘But I’ll ask you to leave my pecker alone, thank you, sir.’

  ‘Never mind,’ replied Sir Charles in a thick voice, his strong hands already pulling at the waistband of her trousers whilst she unbuttoned the front. ‘Never mind. We’ll leave it till another day, shall we?’

  ‘Yes, sir. If you please, sir.’

  Turning her gaze back to the sight of Imran pushing his erection into Lady Maude, Katie awaited the hot and errant penis of Sir Charles, her fingers firmly gripping the front of her trousers so that only her buttocks were exposed.

  She braced herself, winced, then mewed with a subtle pain as the head of Sir Charles’ member divided her cheeks, breached her tightness, and nudged into her narrow passageway.

  The ripeness of his low-hung balls swung and slapped against her and, fired up by earlier sensations, their contact caused her sex to burn more hotly for what she dearly wanted.

  Soft the flesh of his balls might be, yet desire took no notice of who he was or what he was doing. Katie’s ardour was rising, flowing in mercurial streams throughout her body.

  And what of the scene below? Sir Charles, she realised, could see what was happening; could see his wife receiving her just desserts from another man. Like her, he must be inspired by it, lost on a wheel of desire.

  His breath was hot above her, his body was hard and quick as it slapped against her behind. The muscles of her body gripped him tightly, squeezed him within its constricting walls as if sucking the very life out of him. He bounced on her, rode her as though riding his favourite hunter. And all the time, down in the quarry, an Indian servant rode his wife. Both ridden, thought Katie, but on different saddles.

  ‘Watch them,’ sputtered Sir Charles against her ear. ‘Watch what that brown devil is doing to my wife. Imagine what he’s feeling half buried in her crevice; imagine what she’s feeling being speared by his weapon. Can you imagine it, boy, can you?’

  ‘Yes... s-sir.’

  Yes, Katie could imagine it. The fullness of vagina, the slap and thud of body against body, sex against sex. Dictated by what she was seeing, the thoughts in her head were intoxicating. The slam of heavy balls against her own sex was taking her higher. Never mind that Sir Charles was embedded in her behind. Her vagina and her clitoris were tingling.

  ‘See,’ said Sir Charles again, the wetness of his mouth close to her ear. ‘See. They are coming. He’s emptying himself into her, and she’s accepting it, sucking it into her cavern, as I too will empty it into you. But not in any cavern, eh boy. No. Not any cavern at all!’

  Curling the fingers of one hand over the tufts of grass beneath her hands, Katie groaned as Sir Charles increased his tempo. With the other hand, she clutched at the front of her trousers and touched her throbbing clitoris. It responded, and she moaned again - much to the delight of Sir Charles.

  ‘That’s it, my boy. Let me hear you moan before I come. Let me hear you just once more.’

  But Sir Charles was mistaken about her groaning from pain. Her eyes were fixed on the pair draped over the bonnet of the shiny black car, and with them she became a mass of desire.

  Wails of delight accompanied the thrashing limbs of Lady Maude as Imran clenched the cheeks of his brown bottom and clamped his body to hers.

  Tremors of climax held them together like magnet to metal. As though it were her down there, Katie could almost feel his hard penis throbbing within her vagina, his semen hot and spurting. But the one dividing the cheeks of her behind was near enough.

  Still clutching desperately at the front of her trousers, Katie tapped at her own sex at the same tempo as Sir Charles’ heavy balls hit against her vagina. Her clitoris moistened, and hardened beneath her touch. Rising like a symphony reaching for crescendo, her climax was born and grew.

  ‘I’m there!’ said Sir Charles in a low growl against her ear. ‘I’m there!’

  His patch of pubic hair scratched her rear as he stiffened against her. As he throbbed, she tensed and bucked beneath him, her own climax shimmering like a heat haze throughout her body.

  He adjusted his clothing before she adjusted hers. ‘We’ll check the pheasant coveys on the way back,’ stated Sir Charles as though nothing untoward had happened either in the quarry or between them. ‘Fox has been around, so I have heard tell. Can’t have the wretched thing disturbing the hens now can we?’

  He laughed in the way Katie remembered old uncles laughing after they’d knocked back enough port to make a dozen jellies. But it wasn’t port that Sir Charles was high on. It was her. Soon, she would have to declare who and what she was. She determined it had to be to Carew that she declared herself, and not to Sir Charles.

  Planning and scheming, she called the dogs in and followed on.

  Chapter 15

  Carew had ignited hot passions in Katie’s body. Seeing Imran and Maude at the quarry had inflamed those simmering feelings and, although she had orchestrated an orgasm with her fingers Katie had a need for a man. Urgent with longing, she sought and found Gareth.

  After making love in the narrow confines of his bed, Katie lay naked beside him. Because the bed was so narrow, they clung together. But the size of the bed was less important than what they were doing. Gareth was kissing her and murmuring something in her ear that she could have well done without.

  ‘I want to lie between your bodies again - you and your friend Phoebe. I want to have both of you. Will you arrange it?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  His hands gripped her more tightly. ‘You have to. You have to do it.’

  ‘And if I don’t?’

  He laughed between kisses. ‘Then I’ll shop you.’ Katie smiled in the darkness. This afternoon, Carew had given her every impression that he was falling for her despite the gender she presented to him. And this evening, only the fact that local magistrates were meeting in the dining room had prevented him from seeking her out. Her obsession was about to be realised - she was sure of it - and nothing or no one
would keep her from her goal.

  Not that sharing Gareth with Phoebe was of any great concern. It wasn’t. But her old sense of humour was coming back into play. And you, she thought to herself as she tapped Gareth’s chin, have a part to play in it.

  She snuggled closer to him, kissed the warm saltiness of his neck and breathed in his masculine aroma. She spoke slowly, huskily, against his flesh. ‘Alright. But you’ll have to let me have a few hours off to go into town and see Phoebe. Things like that have to be carefully arranged.

  ‘Of course I will. Of course I will.’ Gareth was all enthusiasm. In the darkness, he could not surmise what she was thinking. As she lifted one leg and let his penis cruise between her thighs, she wondered just how much Lady Maude would like her lips divided by Gareth’s stout steed, or Prissy, or that awful woman with the big breasts that she’d encountered in the village of Pursington on her first day at Thompson Towers.

  ‘Leave it to me,’ she said. ‘And you, Gareth Rawlings, will have the most demanding, most absorbing sexual session that you have ever had in your life.’

  Silently, she admitted to herself that she enjoyed his closeness, had missed it in the few days she had been away. His lips were hot and damp against hers. Her breasts were flattened by the hardness of his chest. Between her legs, she could feel his rod sliding more and more easily as she seeped more juices. Her folds of flesh rode and slithered along his length and, as he clutched her buttocks to him, the head of his member invaded her vagina.

  She groaned. Digging her nails into his buttocks, she urged him more fiercely against her. As he entered, she raised one leg. His hand flowed along her thigh, then went back, his fingers sliding between her buttocks then along to where his penis already occupied prime position in her sex. She purred with pleasure as his fingers paused there, explored and caressed, before returning to her buttock and her thigh.

  Gripping her tightly, he eased himself more easily into her, groaning as her vaginal muscles clenched more and more of his member.