My orgasm finally beginning to fade, I concealed a grin as Barry positioned himself on top of me and stabbed at my vaginal hole with his bulbous knob. Recalling the two boys, I wondered whether Derek and Barry would like to share my young body. Two cocks fucking me, one spunking my mouth and the other spunking my cervix . . . My sex sheath opening to accommodate Barry’s solid shaft as he drove into me, I felt my lower stomach rise. This was wrong, it was adultery, but I didn’t care. I needed hard sex, I needed to be wanted. My half-naked body rocking gently back and forth as Barry fucked me, I knew that I’d need this even when Dave was home. Did I need two men at once?
The solid nub of my sensitive clitoris massaged by Barry’s wet shaft, I reached another beautiful orgasm as he gasped and pumped out his fresh spunk. Resting his weight on his hands, he rocked his hips slowly, repeatedly driving his throbbing knob deep into my tight vagina as I squirmed and whimpered beneath him. I could hear the squelching, sucking sounds of sex as he fucked me and sustained my climax. The meeting of naked flesh, the squelching of sex juices . . . I lost myself in my pleasure as my orgasm rocked my young body to the core.
My vagina filling with creamy sperm and finally overflowing, my orgasm beginning to recede, I drifted slowly back to reality and opened my eyes as Barry made his last thrusts. I’d been so desperate for sex and the relief of orgasm that I’d forgotten about Dave and my marriage. But, now, as Barry withdrew his deflating cock from my sperm-flooded pussy, thoughts of my adulterous act returned. I could hear the phone ringing as Barry climbed to his feet and pulled his shorts up. Was Dave checking up on me? Sitting upright as Barry smiled at me, I was surprised as he slipped into the bushes and disappeared. Didn’t he want to talk? Was that it? A quick fuck, and then nothing?
Wandering back to my house with sperm streaming down my inner thighs, I began to feel despondent. I was giving my body away to men, opening my legs to men and . . . I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I’d set out to discover the identity of my secret admirer, and had fucked two men in the process. Once a slut always a slut, I reflected, again recalling the two boys on the common. One of the lads had asked me for anal sex, but I’d declined. I should have agreed, I thought, imagining a cock shafting my tight little bottom-hole. One rock-hard cock fucking my cunt and another fucking my arsehole? The phone started ringing again, breaking my reverie. It was Dave, I was sure as I went into the lounge and lifted the receiver.
‘Sarah, where have you been?’ he whined.
‘Shopping,’ I lied. ‘I’ve just got back.’
‘You’re never there when I phone. Anyway, I’m hoping to be back tomorrow.’
‘Oh, er . . . That’s good.’
‘You don’t sound too pleased.’
‘Of course I’m pleased, Dave. Look, I’d better put the shopping away. Ring me this evening.’
‘OK, I will. I should know one way or the other by then. Hopefully, I’ll catch an early flight in the morning.’
‘That’s great. I’ll talk to you later.’
‘OK, bye.’
I wandered back to the kitchen and gazed out of the window. I was going to have to get my act together. The old apple tree held secrets, I mused. Masturbation, fucking . . . I was going to have to sort myself out before Dave got home. As sperm oozed between my engorged inner lips, I realised that I didn’t have my panties on. Imagining Dave finding my panties on the lawn beneath the apple tree, I went down the garden to find them. I’d have difficulty explaining my shaved pussy, let alone why my panties were down the garden. Not again, I thought, wondering where they were as I looked around. Barry must have taken them. He obviously had a thing about my wet panties.
I returned to the house and made myself a cup of coffee. I’d make a new start, I thought, deciding to clean the house. Once Dave was home, I’d make a fresh start and forget about Derek and Barry. I took my coffee into the dining room and checked my emails. I was going to have to change my email address, I thought, opening yet another one from Brian.
Hello sexy Sarah,
Well, that was a beautiful fuck. I took the liberty of stealing your wet panties. I hope you don’t mind. I also took the liberty of taking a photo. I’ve attached it to this email, I hope you like it,
Brian.
Photos? I wondered when Barry had taken them. I’d not seen him with a camera. Opening the attachment, I stared in horror at the shot of Barry fucking me. Who the hell had taken the photo? The picture was perfectly clear. Although Barry’s head was turned away from the camera, there was no mistaking my identity. My heart racing as I gazed at the evidence of my adultery, I imagined Dave finding the photograph. Shit, I thought, realising that this had got completely out of hand. Scrutinising the photo, I could see that it had been taken from the end of the garden. Someone must have been hiding behind the shed or . . . I dashed through the kitchen and headed down the garden.
‘You want some more?’ Barry asked me, emerging from the bushes. ‘You’re a horny little . . .’
‘Did you get someone to take photographs?’ I asked him
‘What?’
‘Of you and me. The email you just sent me . . .’
‘I haven’t emailed you,’ he cut in. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘This is no time for games, Barry. You’ve been emailing me, you’ve taken my panties . . . And you got someone to take photographs of us.’
‘Sarah, I don’t know your email address. And I have not taken your panties or photographs. What the hell are you on about?’
‘Someone has just sent me an email, with a picture attached.’
‘And?’
‘It’s a picture of you and me, fucking on the lawn.’
‘What? Are you sure?’
‘Of course I’m fucking sure,’ I returned, holding my hand to my spinning head.
‘Who the hell . . .’
‘I don’t know who took it. But they must have been hiding behind the shed.’
‘For fuck’s sake,’ he breathed, looking behind the shed. ‘If Jilly finds out . . .’
‘Or Dave,’ I said, joining him behind the shed. ‘Look, the long grass has been trampled.’
‘Someone’s definitely been here, but who? And how the hell did they get here? There’s no way into your garden.’
‘They might have come in through the bushes,’ I proffered. ‘From your garden.’
‘How the hell . . . Have you no idea who it is?’
‘Someone has been spying on me, but I don’t know who. I thought it was you, Barry.’
‘Me? Why the fuck would I spy on you?’
‘I thought . . . It doesn’t matter. Dave will be back tomorrow. And someone has photos of us.’
‘Christ, Sarah. What the hell do we do?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘If Jilly finds out . . . I’ll take a look around my garden and find out how they got in.’
‘Perhaps we can trap him,’ I breathed. ‘If we meet here again this evening, he might . . .’
‘Good idea. Have you answered the email?’
‘No, I was going to delete it.’
‘Answer it. Say that you’ll be here again this evening. Play into his hands, OK?’
‘Yes, yes I will.’
‘Depending on what Jilly’s doing this evening, I’ll meet you here at seven.’
As Barry went back to his garden, I gazed at the trampled grass. There was no way into my garden, I thought, looking up at the high bushes running along the back fence. There was an alleyway running behind the hedge, but there was no way anyone could get into the garden. I wasn’t so bothered about how they’d got in. I wanted to know who the hell it was. Wandering back to the house, I knew that I was in real trouble as a dreadful word echoed around my mind. Blackmail.
There was only one thing to do, I thought as I sat at the computer desk. Trap the bastard that evening. Hopefully, he’d not seen or heard Barry and me behind the shed. There again, he’d be wary now that he’d sent me the photograph.
Did he intend to blackmail me? Did he want sex in return for his silence? What had started out as a game was now blackmail. I had to word my email carefully.
Hi Brian,
Wow, what a great photo you sent me. I have no idea where you were hiding, but you’re obviously pretty clever. Did you like my wet panties? I might leave another pair beneath the apple tree for you. Look out for me again this evening. You never know, you might get a few good photos.
Sarah.
Clicking the send button, I wondered whether he’d risk hiding behind the shed again. He must have realised that I’d worked out where he’d been hiding with his camera. Unless he thought me completely stupid. If my plan didn’t work and I received blackmail threats . . . I’d just have to cross that bridge when I came to it. At least I had Barry with me, I reflected. He wanted to catch this bastard as much as I did.
I checked my emails a dozen times throughout the afternoon, but there was no word from Brian. Becoming increasingly anxious as the time neared seven, I hoped that Dave would phone before I met Barry down the garden. Knowing my luck, he’d ring when I was fucking Barry and . . . God, I thought, holding my hand to my mouth. I was going to have to have sex with Barry again. I was being sucked deeper into the mire.
Feeling incredibly nervous as I wandered down the garden just before seven, I sat on the grass beneath the apple tree. I had to appear to be relaxed, I knew as I rested my back against the tree. Facing the bushes in Barry’s garden, I pulled my short skirt up just enough to expose my hairless pussy crack. Was my voyeur there, I wondered, watching the shed from the corner of my eye. He must have realised that he’d be taking a huge risk if he was hiding behind the shed with his camera.
‘Hi, gorgeous,’ Barry said, his eyes darting between my sex crack and the shed as he emerged from the bushes.
‘Hi,’ I breathed, pressing my thighs together. Thinking that we were being overheard, I didn’t know what to say. ‘How’s Jilly?’ I finally asked him.
‘She’s not back from her mother’s yet. She’ll be very late, with any luck. Er . . . Anything going on?’
‘No, nothing.’
Wandering around the garden with his hands in his shorts pockets, he tentatively glanced behind the shed. ‘Nothing at all,’ he sighed. ‘There’s no way he can slip behind the shed now that we’re here. I’ve checked my garden, and there’s no way in.’
‘I don’t understand it,’ I said as he stood before me. ‘He must have come in through your garden.’
‘Unless he climbed over the fence from the alleyway, I don’t see how he could have got in. Besides, the fence is in full view from the kitchen where I’ve been working.’
‘Do you think it might have been Jilly?’
‘Jill? God, no. She wouldn’t have hidden and taken photographs of us, she’d have killed me. What about Dave? Do you reckon that he might . . .’
‘Dave’s in Morocco.’
‘Is he?’
‘Yes he . . . At least, that’s where he says he is. Dave wouldn’t lie about going to Morocco and then sneak around behind the shed.’
‘No, I suppose not. Sarah, these emails . . . When did you start receiving them?’
‘A day or two before Dave left. No one has my email address so . . .’
‘Someone obviously has it. That’s the clue, isn’t it? Try to think, Sarah. Who have you given it to?’
‘I’ve not given my email address to anyone. Dave might have given it to someone, but I can’t see why he’d do that. Besides, he’d have mentioned it to me. Look, we’re wasting time out here. Would you like to come in for a drink?’
‘Good idea. Jilly won’t be home for hours, and she won’t ring because I told her that I’d be going out for a beer.’
As we wandered across the lawn to the house, I had no thoughts about sex until Barry followed me into the kitchen and slipped his hand up the back of my skirt. Clutching the firm cheeks of my naked bum, he slipped a finger into my anal crevice. A realisation hit me as I turned and faced him. I now had a sexual relationship with my next-door neighbour. At least Derek wasn’t ringing my doorbell every five minutes, I reflected. But, what the hell was I going to do about Barry?
Taking a can of beer from the fridge, I was suddenly swamped with guilt. It was Dave’s beer, his favourite lager, and he’d said that he’d be looking forward to having a decent drink when he got home. He’d put the cans in the fridge before he’d left and . . . But that was the least of my worries, I mused, pouring myself a glass of wine. I’d fucked Derek and Barry, and now some pervert voyeur had photographic evidence of my adultery.
‘Let’s have a look at this photograph,’ Barry said, popping his can of lager and taking a gulp.
I led him into the dining room and brought the picture up on the computer screen. ‘There,’ I said. ‘You can see that it’s been taken from behind the shed.’
‘That’s a bit of luck. Fortunately, my face isn’t in the shot.’
‘No, but mine is. Who the hell took it?’
‘God knows. Are there any more pictures?’
‘He only sent this one, but he might have taken more.’
‘Christ. This is serious, Sarah. Why on earth did you think that I’d been sending you emails?’
‘You were spying at me through the fence when I was gardening, looking up my skirt and . . .’
‘I wasn’t spying through the fence.’
‘Someone was in your garden, Barry. I heard someone in the bushes behind the fence.’
‘I was working in the kitchen with the backdoor open. I’d have seen if someone had been creeping around the garden. You must have imagined it.’
‘I suppose it could have been a cat or a bird. God, this is a mess. What the hell are we going to do?’
‘There’s nothing we can do,’ he sighed. He gulped down his beer, then crumpled the can in his hand. ‘Let’s have a few drinks and relax,’ he said, smiling at me. ‘Jilly won’t be home for ages and Dave’s away. Let’s chill out.’
‘OK,’ I breathed, taking the crumpled can as he sat on the sofa by the patio doors.
As I grabbed a can from the fridge and poured myself another glass of wine, I knew that I’d end up having sex with Barry yet again. I didn’t want a sexual relationship with him but . . . I didn’t know what I wanted as I returned to the dining room and passed him the can. At least, with Barry there, I wasn’t having to face this alone. This was a bloody nightmare, I thought anxiously. Gazing through the patio doors, I wondered whether someone was lurking behind the shed. Who the hell was it? Who on earth would go sneaking around my garden with a bloody camera? Patting the sofa cushion beside him, Barry asked me to join him. I was hesitant at first, but finally sat next to him.
‘About us,’ he began, placing his hand on my knee. ‘Forgetting the photos and emails for a minute, would you like us to keep seeing each other?’
‘I can’t, Barry,’ I sighed. ‘Dave will be home tomorrow and . . .’
‘We’re good together, Sarah. You can’t deny that.’
‘I’m not denying that. It’s just that . . . I’ve been with Dave for four years, four happy years. I have a nice home and I don’t have to work. To throw it all away would be madness.’
‘You wouldn’t be throwing anything away. We could meet now and then. Whenever the opportunity arises, we could meet and make love.’
‘Barry, some man or other has photographs of us fucking on the lawn.’
‘We made love, Sarah. It was more than fucking.’
‘Making love, fucking . . . Whatever you want to call it, it was adultery. And someone has photographic evidence. I’ve never been unfaithful to Dave, until now. If he finds out . . .’
‘And if Jilly finds out . . . Look, there’s nothing we can do now. Whoever he is, he won’t be hanging around now. He’s got his photograph, so I doubt that he’ll be back.’
‘He’s going to want money,’ I sighed. ‘Money to keep quiet. Dave has never suspected me because I’ve been faithfu
l and he knows that. What about you? Has Jilly ever suspected you? She might have employed someone to sneak around and . . .’
‘Hardly, Sarah. She’s too busy with her mother to bother about what I might or might not be doing. I’ve never been unfaithful. We have a good marriage apart from . . .’
‘Apart from what?’
‘To be honest, Jilly isn’t . . . How shall I put it? She isn’t very adventurous sexually.’
‘Neither is Dave,’ I blurted out. ‘I mean . . .’
‘I know what you mean,’ he whispered, slipping his hand between my thighs and moving up to my naked pussy.
‘Barry, no,’ I breathed.
‘Relax, Sarah. Just relax.’
As his fingers ran up and down my hairless pussy crack, I instinctively parted my thighs. My milky sex juices oozed from my opening vaginal hole as he massaged the swelling nub of my sensitive clitoris. My stomach fluttering, my womb contracting, I reclined on the sofa and closed my eyes. Why the hell couldn’t I fight my inner desires, I wondered as Barry kissed the swell of my breasts through the thin material of my blouse. Someone had photographic evidence of my adulterous debauchery, and I was opening my legs to another man. Why had I no control over my insatiable arousal?
Unbuttoning my blouse with his free hand, Barry exposed the firm spheres of my braless breasts and tweaked each erect nipple in turn. I gasped as he drove two fingers deep into the wet heat of my vaginal canal and massaged the creamy walls of my sex duct. I was committing adultery yet again. Barry was going to fuck me and spunk up my adulterous cunt in the marital home. I was weak in my arousal, I had lost the battle again . . . And there was nothing I could do to halt the inevitable fucking.
Lust Call Page 8
