I couldn’t help myself as I moved forward and licked the silky-smooth surface of the glistening knob. With the salty taste driving me wild, sending my arousal sky high, I parted my red lips wide and took the ripe plum into my wet mouth and sucked gently. I must have been mad, I thought as I snaked my tongue around the huge knob and savoured the taste of sex. I’d lost control of my senses, I’d lost all respect for myself . . . I was behaving like a common slut.
Wrapping my fingers around the warm shaft, gobbling and slurping on the bulbous knob in my frenzied desperation for fresh spunk, I wondered whether this man was to become a second blackmailer. Perhaps he’d seen me with Barry in the garden, or seen the man with his cock through the hole in the fence and . . . How many people knew about my illicit sexual activities? The blackmailer and his accomplice, Barry, Derek . . . And now this man. Were there a group of men involved in this? Had the neighbours got together and blackmailed me into committing crude sexual acts? At least I now knew that Rob wasn’t involved.
My thinking was going way off track, I was sure as I ran my hand up and down the twitching shaft and sucked and licked the beautiful knob. There was no neighbourhood conspiracy, was there? Pondering on the situation as the man let out low moans of pleasure, I thought it very odd that all this should happen the minute Dave went away. Had this been planned? Was he involved? Had he set this up?
The man’s knob swelling and throbbing against my tongue, his creamy spunk flooding my mouth, I wanked his shaft faster and swallowed his orgasmic cream. I was thirsty for fresh spunk, I thought as I allowed my cheeks to fill before again swallowing hard. I’d reached the stage where I needed fresh spunk daily. Whoever was behind the fence, whoever’s cock was through the hole, it didn’t matter. As long as I got my daily fix of spunk, I didn’t care who the man was.
Slipping the deep purple knob out of my mouth, I allowed the white liquid to splatter my face. I could feel the warm cream running down my cheeks and I licked the small strip of skin beneath the rounded knob. A facial, I mused happily. I’d never had a facial before. Again sucking the plum into my mouth and sucking hard, I swallowed the jetting spunk as the man gasped and his cock twitched in my hand. I was good at giving head, I reflected. I was the best.
Sucking out the remnants of sperm from the bulbous knob, I finally sat back on my heels and licked my sex-wet lips. I felt as though I’d had a tonic as I watched a long thread of creamy liquid sag down from the knob slit. Moving forward, not wanting to waste one drop of the precious liquid, I lapped up the spunk. As the deflating cock finally disappeared through the hole, with the taste of sex lingering on my tongue, I wondered whether I was addicted to the male liquid. Was that possible, I mused, running my tongue over my sperm-dripping chin. My clitoris was solid, my juices of desire streaming from my cock-hungry cunt, and I hoped that the man would order me to press my sex lips against the hole in the fence. I needed sex, I again mused.
Rising to my feet as the man said that he’d meet me at my front door, I felt my stomach somersault. Was I about to discover the identity of my blackmailer? Walking across the lawn to the patio, I reckoned that this was some kind of trick. Whoever this man was, I couldn’t imagine him meeting me face to face. He had to be a neighbour, I mused, pausing in the kitchen. He must have seen my blackmailer hovering by the fence and realised what was going on. But, how did he know that I was being blackmailed? As the doorbell rang, I felt my heart leap into my mouth. This was it, I thought, making my way through the hall.
‘Hi,’ Dave said as I opened the door. ‘God, what a trip that was.’
‘Dave?’ I breathed, staring wide-eyed at him.
‘Were you expecting someone else?’
‘No, no, I . . . I didn’t think you’d be back yet.’
‘I would have been earlier but the plane was delayed,’ he said, closing the door behind him. ‘So, how are things?’
‘Fine, fine,’ I replied, wiping the sperm from my face with the back of my hand. ‘So, er . . . It’s great to see you. Did everything go all right?’
‘It went very well, no problems at all. It’s good to be home, Sarah. God, the heat out there was incredible. I don’t think I could have stood another day of it. Anyway, what have you been up to?’
‘Nothing,’ I replied rather too quickly. ‘I mean, nothing much.’
‘Looks like you’ve caught the sun. Have you been outside a lot?’
‘Yes, I’ve been doing the garden. Are you staying? I mean, are you working today or . . .’
‘Working? No way. I’m going to have a shower and then sit in the garden and enjoy a few beers.’
‘Are you working tomorrow?’
‘Yes, I am. Why? Are you trying to get rid of me?’
‘No, of course I’m not,’ I replied, forcing a giggle. ‘I just wondered, that’s all.’
‘I’ll have a quick shower and then we’ll sit in the garden.’
As he climbed the stairs, I felt my stomach churning. This was a nightmare, I thought, heading for the patio. Had he arrived a few minutes later, had he turned up when the man was at the front door . . . Standing on the patio, I suddenly had a dreadful thought. Had Dave been the man behind the fence? No, surely not, I reflected. Dave wouldn’t have set this whole thing up, would he? My head spinning, I didn’t know what to think, or what I was going to do now that he was back. What the hell was my blackmailer going to do now?
Clutching a can of beer, Dave finally joined me in the garden. He was wearing shorts, which immediately reminded me of Barry. It was only now that Dave was back that I realised exactly what I’d done while he’d been away. I’d had more sex in the last few days that I had during the last few months. What if he noticed the holes in the fence? The bushes concealed the holes so I didn’t have to worry too much. My panties weren’t strewn across the lawn, there were no signs of sex . . . But my pussy was hairless.
‘Have you been drinking my lager?’ he asked me with a chuckle.
‘No, er . . . Susie had a couple of cans the other day.’
‘Oh, right. We’ll have a barbecue this evening,’ he announced. ‘We’ll invite Barry and Jilly round.’
‘Yes, good idea.’
‘Are you all right, love? You seem different.’
‘I’m a little tired. For some reason, I didn’t sleep too well last night.’
‘You sounded odd when I spoke to you on the phone. Is there anything worrying you?’
‘I’m fine, honest.’
‘Ah, the wanderer returns,’ Barry called over the fence. ‘How’s it going, Dave?’
‘I’ll leave you two in peace,’ I said, slipping into the kitchen.
I walked into the lounge and gazed out of the window. I couldn’t see Derek at his window, but I was sure that he’d be there. Who else was watching me? Noticing a man from down the road walking past my house, I wondered whether I’d sucked the spunk from his knob. Had he been the one who had fucked me through the hole in the fence? I was a nervous wreck, I thought, looking down at my trembling hands. Dave would suspect something before long. He’d already asked me whether anything was worrying me. What would he think when he saw my shaved pussy? To make matters worse, I was in desperate need of an orgasm. What the hell was I going to do?
‘I’m going round to Barry’s for a while,’ Dave said, passing the lounge door.
‘Oh, right,’ I breathed. ‘I’ll see you later, then.’
What were they going to talk about, I wondered as the front door closed. Barry wouldn’t say anything about our affair, I was sure of that. God, I thought, again holding my hand to my head. This really was a bloody mess. And my clitoris constantly calling for my intimate attention wasn’t helping. Wondering whether to masturbate and enjoy a much-needed orgasm, I almost jumped out of my skin as the phone rang. I couldn’t go on like this, I knew as I grabbed the receiver. I was going to have to do something. But, what?
‘Go down to the fence,’ a man instructed me.
‘I can’t,’ I returned.
‘My husband is home, so that’s the end of your bloody games.’
‘He’s gone next door, Sarah. You have plenty of time to . . .’
‘You’re still spying on my house, then?’
‘Go to the fence, Sarah.’
As he hung up, I replaced the receiver and wandered out to the patio. I couldn’t suck a man off through the hole in the fence with Dave around, I reflected anxiously. Heading across the lawn, I decided to call the man’s bluff. I wouldn’t be meeting him again, I wouldn’t be having sex with him or . . . And, if I didn’t, Dave would see the photographs. Perhaps I could come to an arrangement with my blackmailer, I mused. If I met him when Dave was at work, he knew we had set times . . .
‘Do you want to know who Brian is?’ a male voice asked me as I slipped into the bushes.
‘Yes, I do. I also want to know who the hell you are.’
‘All in good time, Sarah.’
‘Tell me now, or I won’t come here again.’
‘Lift your skirt up and bend over with your open cunt against the hole,’ he ordered me.
‘I’m not a slut,’ I returned indignantly. ‘Why are you disguising your voice? Tell me who you are.’
‘Do it, Sarah. Do it, and then I’ll tell you who Brian is.’
‘I reckon that you’re Brian. You’re the one who’s been . . .’
‘You don’t have much time, Sarah. Do as you’re told, or you’ll never discover who Brian is.’
Lifting my skirt, I backed on to the fence with my open pussy lips pressed against the hole. I couldn’t understand why I felt so aroused as his swollen knob stabbed between the puffy cushions of my sex slit. I must have been a right little slut, I thought as his knob slipped into the tight sheath of my vagina. It wasn’t only the fact that I was being blackmailed that drove me to comply with his crude request. I actually wanted him to fuck me. I wanted to be fucked by a stranger through a hole in the fence. What the hell had I become?
With my naked buttocks pressed hard against the wooden fence, and his solid shaft gliding in and out of my sex-drenched vagina, I gasped as my clitoris swelled and my womb contracted. He wasn’t going to tell me anything about Brian, I knew as I rested my hands on my knees. My long blonde hair cascading over my flushed face, I closed my eyes as his cock swelled and my juices of desire streamed down my inner thighs. I needed this, I reflected as my orgasm neared. He wasn’t going to tell me anything that I didn’t know. But I needed to be fucked senseless.
What the fucking hell was I doing? If Dave came back, if he wandered down the garden . . . But it was the danger and excitement that I thrived on, I realised as gasps of male pleasure sounded from behind the fence. Rather than having to sneak out of the house to meet another man, or lie about where I was going, all I had to do was slip into the bushes at the end of the garden. The notion sent quivers through my womb, and I imagined three or four men lined up in the alleyway, all waiting to fuck me through the hole in the fence.
‘You love it, don’t you?’ the man breathed.
‘Yes,’ I gasped, immediately wishing I hadn’t.
‘I’ll do your tight little arsehole next time.’
‘No, I . . .’
‘Make sure your arse is well greased with Vaseline this evening, and I’ll . . .’
‘I can’t, my husband . . .’
‘Seven o’clock, Sarah. Be here at seven, and I’ll fuck your tight little bottom-hole and fill your arse with spunk.’
Rocking gently back and forth as he fucked me, my buttocks repeatedly slapping the fence, I slipped my hand between my parted thighs and massaged the swollen nub of my yearning clitoris. I’d loved masturbating in the garden during my teens, and now I was enjoying a hard shafting in the bushes. This was the ultimate in sexual depravation, I mused dreamily. Hiding in the bushes with my skirt up and my hairless pussy slit pressed against the hole in the fence, a huge cock fucking my tight cunt . . . This was sheer sexual bliss.
The man’s spunk started jetting from his throbbing knob and lubricated our illicit union as he repeatedly rammed his weapon-head hard against my ripe cervix. My own orgasm erupting within the pulsating nub of my solid clitoris, I gasped and squirmed, pressing my naked buttocks harder against the fence to allow him deeper penetration of my adulterous cunt. I could feel his spunk overflowing and streaming down my thighs as my vagina spasmed and gripped his thrusting cock. I’d not been fucked like this for years, I reflected as my orgasm peaked and shook me to the core. And I wasn’t prepared to wait years until I was fucked like this again.
The squelching sounds of sex filling the warm summer air, I stifled my gasps of pleasure as my vaginal muscles tightened and gripped the thrusting cock. Again and again, he thrust his beautiful organ into my trembling body, flooding my inflamed cunt with his spunk as I sustained my incredible climax with my vibrating fingertips. My clitoris swelling again, another orgasm shaking me to the core, I wondered how many times I could come during one fucking session. Whenever Dave had fucked me, I’d only come once, if at all. But I now had a new and fulfilling sex life.
‘Be here at seven,’ the unseen man whispered in a false voice, his cock sliding out of my inflamed cunt as I fell forward on to my knees. ‘Grease your tight little arsehole and be here at seven.’
‘Yes, yes, I’ll be here,’ I breathed, wondering what the hell I was saying.
‘You want your arse fucked don’t you, Sarah?’
‘God, yes. I want my arse fucked.’
‘Until this evening, Sarah. Don’t be late.’
Crawling out of the bushes on my hands and knees, I lay on the grass on my back and gazed up at the blue sky. Sperm oozing from my gaping sex crack, my young body trembling uncontrollably, I could feel my clitoris pulsating as my orgasm receded. I’d forgotten what a proper fucking was like, I mused dreamily. Dave was useless in comparison to my unseen lover. Seven o’clock, I reflected, imagining a solid cock shafting the tight duct of my rectum. How the hell was I going to escape Dave and slip into the bushes?
Recovering in the aftermath of my massive climaxes, I finally sat upright and looked about the garden. Small twigs and leaves adorned my long blonde hair. My face was flushed, my thighs sticky with spunk and vaginal milk. I leapt to my feet and dashed into the house to clean myself up before Dave came back. Again, I was unable to believe what I’d done. Fucking a man at the end of the garden while my husband was next door . . . I was sailing dangerously close to the wind.
After a shower, I slipped into a short summer dress and trotted down the stairs. Sitting on the patio with a glass of iced orange juice, I began to change my way of thinking about the blackmailer and his accomplice. One, two or three men . . . I didn’t really care how many men were using my body for sex. I was enjoying myself so, what the hell? This was a new way of life, I mused. I’d been doing housework, cooking, washing and ironing during my four years of marriage. Dave was out meeting people on photo shoots, while I was stuck at home. Now, it was my turn to enjoy myself.
I was still concerned about the photographs of my debauched sexual acts. But I really didn’t think that the blackmailer would send them to Dave. If he did, he’d no longer have the pleasure of my tight pussy. But there was an unbalance. He had the photographs, and I had nothing on him, and I didn’t like that. I was more than willing to have crude sex with him, and I was looking forward to an arse fucking, but I didn’t want the threat of divorce hanging over me.
‘Barry and Jilly will be here later,’ Dave said, walking through the kitchen and joining me on the patio.
‘Oh, the barbecue,’ I breathed. Shit, I was supposed to be in the bushes at seven. ‘What time did you tell them?’
‘I didn’t. There’ll come round when they’re ready. That is all right, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, that’s fine,’ I replied, my vaginal muscles tightening as I recalled the crude fucking I’d just enjoyed in the bushes. ‘I haven’t seen Jilly for ages, it will be nice to have a chat with her.’
‘You’
ve seen plenty of Barry, though,’ Dave said mysteriously.
‘Have I? Oh, yes, we’ve been chatting over the fence. He’s been working on his kitchen.’
‘Yes, it looks really nice. He’s done a good job.’
‘So, did you bring me a present back from Morocco?’
‘Sorry, love, I didn’t have the time.’
‘Oh, OK. When are you going to bring your case in from the car?’ I had to play the role of twee little housewife. ‘Only, your clothes will need washing.’
‘I’ll do it later. Sarah, are you sure that everything is all right?’
‘Yes, of course I’m sure. Why do you ask?’
‘Barry was talking about you.’
‘Talking about me?’ I hesitated, wondering what to say. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I don’t know. He kept mentioning you and . . . To be honest, I got the impression that he fancies you.’
‘What?’ I gasped, breaking into a giggle. ‘Barry, fancy me? You are silly, Dave.’
‘Am I? He said that you were out here in a short skirt, and then in your bikini.’
‘In case you’ve not noticed, it’s summer time. The weather has been beautiful, Dave. I always wear short skirts in the summer. And, if I’m sunbathing, I’ll wear a bikini.’
‘I suppose so. It’s just that . . .’
‘Just that, what?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’m imagining things. There was one other thing.’
‘Oh?’
‘He apologised for drinking my beer.’
‘Did he? Oh, that’s right. We were chatting and he looked hot so I got him a beer from the fridge and . . . Dave, what’s this all about? Do you suspect me of screwing around?’
Lust Call Page 12
