After changing into a miniskirt and blouse, I paced the lounge floor waiting for the evening to arrive. I felt like a nervous wreck, but managed to keep off the wine until six o’clock. By seven o’clock, I’d emptied the first bottle and had started on the second. Finally walking down the garden, I took a deep breath. My heart was racing and I was trembling uncontrollably. If my plan went wrong and I didn’t discover who my blackmailer was . . . Reaching the fence, I eyed the step ladder. Nothing could go wrong, I was sure.
Strangely, as with the last time I’d waited by the fence, I felt aroused at the prospect of sucking a stranger’s cock. I was supposed to be trapping my blackmailer, not looking forward to swallowing his spunk, I reminded myself as my panties moistened. I still had no idea what I was going to do once I’d proved that Rob was the culprit. Threaten to tell his daughter that he was a sad pervert? Would she believe me? What I needed was photographic evidence of his debauchery.
Hearing a tapping noise on the fence, I frowned. It was coming from several yards away, near to the corner of the garden. Backing out of the bushes, I walked along to the spot where the tapping again sounded on the fence. He was a clever bastard, I thought as I slipped into the bushes and found another freshly-drilled hole in the fence. He must have realised that I’d try to trap him. Had he seen me with the step ladder? Had he spied at me from his garden?
‘What are you wearing?’ he whispered.
‘Skirt and top,’ I replied.
‘Panties?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are they wet?’
‘Well . . .’
‘Take them off and push them through the hole.’
Slipping my panties off, I looked for a crack or knothole in the fence. There was nothing, no way I could confirm his identity. I wondered about dashing out into the street and running around the side of Rob’s house to the alleyway, but I knew that he’d be gone before I reached him. Maybe Derek was lurking, I thought as I pushed my moist panties through the hole. All he had to do was confirm that Rob was standing by the fence, and I’d have my man.
‘Lift your skirt up and press yourself against the fence,’ he ordered me. His voice was low, disguised. ‘I want to finger your wet cunt.’
‘I know who you are,’ I said as a finger slipped through the hole.
‘I don’t think you do,’ he whispered. ‘The step ladder was a nice little trick. But it proves that you have no idea who I am. Move forward, I want your cunt.’
Pressing myself against the fence, I aligned my sex crack with his finger. Breathing deeply as he massaged the sensitive tip of my clitoris, I couldn’t understand why I was desperate for the relief of orgasm. As his finger entered my tight vagina, inducing my sex milk to flow, I felt my womb contract, my stomach somersault. The aroma of the bushes and the cool evening air reminding me of masturbating in the garden during my teenage years, I began to wonder whether I wanted to discover the identity of my blackmailer. There again, had he not threatened me, I wouldn’t have been here, I mused. The notion of being blackmailed to commit crude sexual acts was exciting, that was the turn-on. But the danger worried me.
‘You didn’t have to threaten me,’ I said as he massaged the hot inner flesh of my contracting vagina. ‘We could have had a sexual relationship without you threatening me.’
‘So, all I had to do was knock on your door and ask you for sex? I don’t think so, Sarah.’
‘You know that I’m having sex with another man. He didn’t have to threaten me.’
‘You’re having sex with two other men,’ he said.
‘I’m not,’ I gasped, wondering how the hell he knew about Derek.
‘I have photographs, Sarah.’
My head spun, I was sure that he was bluffing. There was no way he could have photographed Derek and me in the lounge. He might have seen Derek calling at my house, but . . . That was it, I thought. He’d seen Derek crossing the road and coming to my house, and he’d put two and two together. This was crazy, I thought, looking at the fence as my vaginal milk flowed and my clitoris swelled. My blackmailer was standing the other side of the fence, and I had no way of finding out who he was? I should have hidden in the alleyway at seven o’clock. I should have told Barry and he could have been hiding in the alley.
His finger slid out of the wet sheath of my pussy, and I looked down at the hole in the fence. When his solid penis appeared, his foreskin retracted, his purple knob exposed, I knew what he wanted me to do. This would be the third cock to fuck me since Dave went away, I mused. Moving forward, I wondered whether I was doing this because I was being blackmailed or because I wanted to. With his knob between the wet petals of my inner lips, I pressed my hairless vulva against the fence and impaled myself fully on his rock-hard cock. Moving up and down, rubbing my hairless mons against the wooden fence, I began fucking myself on his cock.
Low moans of pleasure came from the other side of the fence as I imagined Dave arriving home and seeing me from the house. I was concealed by the bushes to an extent, so I’d probably get away with spinning some lie or other. My life would consist of lies now, I reflected. Adultery, lies, deceit, betrayal . . . And this massive and dramatic change in my life had taken place within a few days. Had Dave not gone away, who knows what I’d have been doing now. Housework?
My swollen clitoris massaged by the solid cock shaft, I closed my eyes and drifted on clouds of ecstasy. I was going to come, I knew as I began to tremble and gasp. I had to stop myself, I thought as my womb rhythmically contracted and my vaginal muscles tightened around the solid cock. Only a real slut would achieve an orgasm from being fucked through a hole in a fence. This was madness, I wasn’t a slut . . .
‘Yes,’ I gasped, my erect clitoris erupting and pulsating wildly as my climax gripped me. I could feel the man’s creamy spunk flooding my inflamed sex sheath as he gasped behind the fence. Opening my blouse in my sexual frenzy, I pressed the erect teats of my firm breasts hard against the wooden fence. My nipples rubbing against the rough wood, adding to my incredible pleasure, I couldn’t believe the strength and duration of my orgasm. I shouldn’t have been deriving such pleasure from enforced sex. Blackmailed, threatened, fucked by a stranger, a man I couldn’t even see . . . I was a common whore.
My orgasm beginning to recede as spunk streamed down the naked flesh of my inner thighs, I clung to the fence as I rocked my hips and brought out the last of the man’s orgasmic cream. Shaking uncontrollably, I hung my head and panted for breath as he withdrew his spent penis. My sex-wet long blonde hair cascading over my flushed face, I gazed at the spunk dribbling from the hole and running down the fence. If Dave saw the hole . . . I’d have to clean the fence, I decided as I recovered in the aftermath of my amazing orgasm.
Still shaking uncontrollably, I couldn’t believe my eyes as the man pushed his erect cock through the hole and ordered me to suck it. Kneeling, I took the purple plum into my mouth and sucked gently. Why didn’t it taste of spunk? Why didn’t it taste of my vaginal milk? He must have cleaned it, I mused as his veined shaft twitched. But, why would he do that? Again, low moans of male pleasure disturbed the still summer air. He was virile, I thought as I gobbled and sucked. Perhaps I’d got it wrong and Rob wasn’t the culprit. Was this a younger man?
The man came quickly, his spunk jetting from his swollen knob and bathing my tongue as I sucked and slurped. I could feel my clitoris swelling again, my vagina contracting, as if begging for another hard cock. Repeatedly swallowing as my mouth flooded with spunk, I slipped my hand between my sticky thighs and ran a finger up and down my cream-dripping sex crack. Massaging my erect clitoris as I drank from the man’s fountainhead, I quickly reached another mind-blowing climax.
A gush of hot liquid streaming from my gaping crack and splattering on the ground as my pleasure peaked, I moved my hand down and bathed my fingers in the golden rain. Again massaging my pulsating clitoris, sustaining my climax as I drank the fresh cream from the man’s orgasming knob, I knew that I’d reached the
bottom of the pit of depravity. I could sink no lower, I mused as the hot rain splattered my feet. This was the height of degradation, the depth of my whoredom. This was my new life.
The spent penis slipped out of my sperm-drenched mouth and hung limply through the hole. I gazed at a globule of sperm oozing from the knob slit. About to move forward and suck the remnants of sperm from the purple globe, I focused on the veined shaft. This was a different cock, I thought. The skin was darker, the knob had a more pronounced rim and . . . Rising to my feet, I held my hand to my mouth. Were there two men hiding behind the fence?
Again focusing on the sperm-dripping knob, I was sure that I’d not seen this cock before. It wasn’t Dave’s was it? Sad though it was, I’d not seen Dave’s cock close up for a long time. It certainly wasn’t Derek’s or Barry’s . . . Was it a young or old penis? The skin was slightly wrinkled, but . . . As the thing disappeared through the hole, I heard the man making his escape along the alleyway. Had he realised that I was scrutinising his cock?
Having an idea, I dashed back to the house and raced through the hall. I flung the front door open and ran into the front garden with sperm gushing down my inner thighs, where I waited in anticipation for Rob to come along the alley and head for his front door. Who was his friend? Was it another of my neighbours? My heart racing, I waited for ten minutes or so. Rob didn’t appear, and I finally wandered back into the house and closed the door.
I’d been fucked and spunked by one man, and I’d sucked the sperm out of another man’s cock. Not only had my plan to expose my blackmailer failed miserably, but I’d been used by two men. The situation was ridiculous, I reflected. When I’d been in the garden, all I’d had to do was find out who was the other side of the fence, and I’d have been able to confront him and put an end to this crap. Where was this going to end? I flopped miserably on to the sofa. My feet were wet with urine, my inner thighs sticky with a cocktail of spunk and pussy milk, the taste of sperm lingered on my tongue . . . Where the hell was this going to end?
Six
I DRAGGED MYSELF from my bed and gazed out of the window, thankful to see rain pouring down from heavy black clouds. The alleyway would be wet and muddy, hopefully, keeping the blackmailer and his accomplice away. Dave might arrive at any time, I mused as sleep left me. Dare I check my emails? How was I going to explain my hairless pussy? Apart from having no plans, no lies to tell, I no longer had a direction in life. How the hell was I going to get myself out of this horrendous mess?
The rain had stopped by mid-morning and the sun soon dried the garden. The air was clean and fresh, but the smell of blackmail hung heavy. I had to ensure that everything appeared to be normal for Dave’s return. No evidence of my adulterous debauchery, nothing suspicious left lying around, nothing he could question me about. After dumping the step ladder and rope in the shed, I checked the garden. The bushes concealed the holes in the fence, and I doubted that Dave would go poking about there anyway.
I left the house by the front door, and walked round the side of Rob’s house to the back alley. In the bushes, I could see the trampled grass where my blackmailer had stood with his accomplice. When would they be there again? At seven o’clock that evening? There must be a way to catch him, I mused as I went back to my house and switched the computer on. If I confronted him, threatened to tell his daughter about his evil ways . . . What good would that do? The girl would never believe me and he’d probably punish me for trying to cause trouble.
I made a cup of coffee and sat at the desk to check my emails. Junk mail, nothing from Dave . . . One from Brian. Why hadn’t Dave contacted me? Was he screwing a teenage slut in his hotel room? Opening the email from Brian, I decided to tell him that I’d had enough of him and his threats and I wouldn’t be at the end of the garden again. Call his bluff, I mused as I read his words.
My horny Sarah,
That was amazing yesterday, our first fuck. Our first of many, I’m sure. Sorry I had to make another hole in the fence because I didn’t like the look of the step ladder. I’m sure you will understand. Be there at twelve noon and we’ll enjoy another fuck.
Brian.
So, he did know about the ladder, I reflected. Was there nothing I could do without him spying on me? Fuming, I was about to reply but decided against it. I checked the time: 11.30. I only had half an hour to prepare my trap. What if Dave turned up at twelve? Panicking, I dashed into the garden and called Barry. I had to tell him everything, and ask him to hide in the alley and catch the bastard. I should have told him before, I reflected as I leaned over the fence and again called him. His back door was closed, he must have gone out or . . . I rushed through the house to the front garden. His car wasn’t in the drive.
‘Shit,’ I breathed, wondering what to do. There was only one thing I could do – hide in the alley and wait. I grabbed my digital camera and slipped out of the front door. If I was really lucky, I’d get a photograph of him standing by the fence with his cock out. Walking down the drive to the pavement, I couldn’t see Derek at his window. The street was quiet, and I felt like a thief in the night as I crept past Rob’s house. Was he looking out of an upstairs window? Was he already in the alleyway? My heart racing, I knew that this was my last chance to catch him.
‘Morning, Sarah,’ Rob called from his front door.
‘Oh, er . . . Hi,’ I breathed, frozen to the spot as he unlocked his car.
‘Lovely day again.’
‘Yes, yes it is.’
‘I wish I could stay at home and enjoy the sun, but I have to take Rachel to university.’
‘You’re going now?’ I asked him.
‘Yes, it’s a six-hour round trip. How’s Dave? I haven’t seen him lately.’
‘He’s away, working in Morocco for a few days.’
‘Morocco?’ he echoed as Rachel lugged a suitcase to the car. ‘That sounds nice. Where are you off to?’
‘Er . . . Nowhere. I was just . . . just going for a walk.’
‘Well, we’d better get going.’
‘See you, Sarah,’ Rachel called.
‘Yes,’ I breathed abstractedly, making my way back to my house.
Stunned, I couldn’t believe how wrong I’d been about Rob. If he wasn’t the culprit, then who was? The situation was worsening by the day and, to top it all, Dave might arrive home at any minute. Maybe Rob was guilty and his plan had been ruined by Rachel and . . . He wouldn’t have made a last-minute decision to take the girl to university. He would have known well in advance, I was sure. Ten minutes before twelve. What the hell was I going to do?
Dressed in my miniskirt and blouse, I wandered out into the back garden. If only Barry was at home, I thought, walking across the lawn to the hole in the fence. It wasn’t worth sneaking into the alleyway because my blackmailer would no doubt be prepared for a trick like that. If he caught me in the alley, he’d have no qualms about destroying my marriage, I was sure of that. Was he watching me now? Turning, I scanned the garden. He’d be hiding in the alley, lurking, waiting. All I could do was comply with his crude sexual demands.
Beginning to feel angry as I paced the grass beneath the old apple tree, I wondered whether he was going to turn up. He had me on a string, I mused. Was he keeping me waiting deliberately? What the hell was he playing at? Strangely, my anger subsided and I felt excited at the prospect of sucking on his swollen knob and drinking his fresh spunk. My clitoris inflating, my sex milk seeping between the unfurling wings of my inner lips, I reckoned that I’d waited long enough.
I needed to come, I thought, wondering why my arousal was soaring out of control as I walked across the lawn to the house. My hands trembling, my heart banging hard against my chest, I desperately needed the relief of orgasm. I needed hard, cold sex. Slipping my hand up my skirt as I gazed out of the lounge window, I wondered whether to call on Derek to appease my yearning clitoris. Where was Barry when I needed him, I mused, recalling his solid cock driving deep into my contracting vagina. Where was Dave? My heart missed a
beat as the phone rang, and I took a deep breath before lifting the receiver.
‘Sarah?’ a male asked me.
‘Speaking.’
‘We need to talk.’
‘I’m sorry? Who is this?’
‘It’s about Brian.’
‘Brian?’ I echoed shakily. ‘I . . . I don’t know what you mean.’
‘I thought you might like some answers.’
‘Answers to what? I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘Go to the fence, Sarah. I’ll be there in five minutes.’
Replacing the receiver, I held my hand to my mouth as my head spun. I couldn’t take much more of this, I thought anxiously. Feeling dizzy as I made my way to the end of the garden, I wondered who this man was. What did he know? How had he got hold of my phone number? More to the point, what did he want? Although I was becoming hooked on adulterous sex, I knew that I couldn’t carry on like this. One man, one blackmailer . . . I could have coped with that. I could have coped with having a secret affair, enjoying sex through the hole in the fence. But this was getting totally out of hand.
‘Are you there?’ a man asked as I hovered by the fence.
‘Yes, I’m here. Who are you?’
‘I know Brian,’ he whispered. ‘I thought you might be interested.’
‘Interested in what?’
‘Don’t play games, Sarah. I’m sure that you want to know who he is.’
‘OK, tell me.’
‘What do I get in return?’
‘Nothing, just tell me.’
‘Let’s make use of the hole, Sarah. You please me, and I’ll tell you who Brian is.’
‘I’m not a whore,’ I returned.
‘You please me, and I’ll come round to your front door and meet you. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.’
Watching a solid penis slip through the hole, I felt my stomach somersault. The foreskin was fully retracted, the velveteen surface of the bulbous knob glistened in the light. I licked my full lips as I imagined taking the purple plum into my spunk-thirsty mouth. As I knelt on the damp ground, I wondered whether this was a trick. Perhaps this was my blackmailer, and he’d dreamed up this plan to get to meet me. If he made out that he knew Brian, he could meet me face to face and have sex and . . . This was becoming complicated. And I was becoming extremely aroused.
Lust Call Page 11
