Hot Sheets
Page 31
Moving behind the bar and lining up a row of wine bottles as the colonel continued his grunting and groaning, Mike ordered the girls to bend over the bar. "A wine tasting contest!" he grinned as the doorbell rang out. "I'll fill your bums with a different wine. We'll suck the wine from each of your arseholes, the winner being the man who correctly determines which wine is which."
As the colonel finished his fucking, draining his rolling balls and sliding his dripping cock out of Trudie's overflowing vaginal duct, the girls took their positions. Taking a bottle, Mike pushed the open end into Nancy's tight anal entrance, the wine decanting into her hot bowels.
"As I know which wine is which, I'll be the adjudicator!" he chuckled, filling Cecilia's bowels with a white medium dry. Moving to Goldie's splayed buttocks, he grabbed another bottle and forced the neck deep into her anal canal, the wine flowing, cooling her hot lust sheath. The four girls ready, the wine swirling within their bowels, the contestants began their bottom-hole sucking, their heady arsehole tasting.
"Oh my goodness!" Miss Chaste cried as she hobbled into the bar and stared in disbelief at the lewd wine tasting. "Oh, oh! You're naked, Mr Hunt!"
"Ah! Er... Miss Chaste, what are you doing down here?"
"I... I came down for a... a cup of tea!" she stammered, shocked as the anal wine tasting continued unabated. "Whatever are they doing to those girls' bottoms?"
"Ah, Paul!" Mike grinned sheepishly as the young man entered the bar. "Would you take Miss Chaste to her room, please? She's having a bad dream."
"I'm not dreaming!"
"Yes, you are, Miss Chaste. This is a dreadful nightmare. Go back to your room and you'll wake up and find that you've been sound asleep."
The girls whimpering as their anal caverns were drained, Paul led Miss Chaste out of the bar and ushered her upstairs to her room. This was all he needed, Mike thought as the men swapped places and the anal slurping continued. One problem solved and another appears.
Wondering whether he'd ever be free to run his business and enjoy his life, he downed a large vodka. Why couldn't Miss Chaste have been like the colonel and joined in with the debauchery rather than... on second thoughts, no! Pouring another vodka, he looked down at his erect penis. The time had come for the girls to be arse-fucked, he decided as Paul wandered into the bar and hurriedly removed his clothes.
"OK!" Mike decreed. "No more wine tasting, we're going to give the girls a good bum fuck! Right, four men and four girls - four cocks and four arseholes."
"We don't know who's won the competition," Dave said, licking his lips as he moved away from Goldie's wine-drenched brown ring.
"That one's a claret," the colonel declared, pointing to Nancy's glistening anal portal. "And I'd say that one's a Liebfraumilch - possibly ninety-three."
"We'll resume the competition when we've spunked up their arses," Mike laughed. "It'll make the competition that little bit harder! OK, choose your bottom-hole and let the anal shafting commence!"
Standing behind the expectant girls, the men drove their solid penises deep into their anal canals, impaling them completely. Their heavy balls resting against the girls' rubicund vaginal lips, they began their penile thrusting, their swollen knobs driving in and out of the tight anal ducts. Bellies slapping buttocks, swinging balls battering dripping pussy lips, knobs pistoning into hot bowels, the men continued their anal fucking until their sperm coursed up their shafts and exploded from their orgasming knobs.
"By gad!" the colonel gasped in his second coming. "There's nothing like a rear-ender!"
"God, you're right there!" Mike breathed, ramming his veined shaft deep into Nancy's rectal duct.
"Christ, Trudie, do I love fucking your arse!" Paul cried as his spunk gushed, lubricating the debased union.
The four girls gasping as the men reached between their legs and massaged their pulsating clitorises to fruition, the sexual debauchery continued. Well into the afternoon and early evening, Stokepot Towers reverberated with orgasmic gasps and cries, the girls having each orifice fucked by each man in turn until their abused and exhausted bodies were sated with spunk.
"OK, let the whipping begin!" Mike ordered the men as each stood behind a girl, wielding a cane. Their cocks wet and sore, standing to attention, the men began the naked buttock thrashing, accompanied by anguished cries and gasps of pleasure and pain. Loud cracks resounding around the bar as the canes struck the girls' burning buttocks, the debauchery was set to run well into the night, the men's cocks ever ready, the girls' cunts ever juiced, and yearning for jism. This was the life! Mike thought happily, thrashing Nancy's scarlet buttocks for all he was worth. And with the money flowing as freely as the cunt juice, life could only get better!
"So, the filth never ends at Stokepot Towers!" WPC Widegroin observed as she walked into the bar.
"Fucking hell!" Mike gasped, dropping the cane as the WPC approached wearing her neat uniform, her police-issue hat. "How on earth did you get in?"
"I have my ways," the prim blonde replied, frowning as she focused her inquisitive eyes on the colonel's erect, cunny-wet cock. "So, Mr Hunt, you really are bent on running a brothel, a vile and disgusting den of iniquity."
"I don't believe that it was wise of you to return, Miss Widelegs!" Mike grinned, moving towards her with his solid penis in his hand. The others gathering behind him, the men wielding canes, the girls licking their lips provocatively, Mike decided that the charismatic constable wouldn't escape this time. "You're going to endure a night of..." he began, taking her arm.
"I'm not alone, Mr Hunt," she grinned triumphantly. "You've committed quite a list of offences, wouldn't you agree? Not to mention the picture of you in the local paper."
Releasing her arm, his penis deflating, Mike knew that the end had come - that his end wouldn't come again for a long time! Grabbing his clothes as Wendy moved to the door, he tugged his trousers up his legs. "Would you come in, please, Inspector Dickwipe?" she called, her face beaming triumphantly.
There was no point in fighting any more, Mike thought dolefully as the others retrieved their clothes and began dressing. He'd just about beaten the tax man, paid the VAT man, stuffed weights and measures, fucked the environmental mental bastards, sorted the fire inspector...
"Well," he declared ruefully, buttoning his shirt. "I'd almost beaten the bloody system. I'd nearly conquered the thieving, interfering fascist bastards, the state, the fucking establishment. The best man, or, should I say, woman, won. What do you reckon I'll get?"
"Several thousand pounds a week!" Harold grinned as he swaggered into the bar with his arm in a sling.
"Even more with me working for you!" Wendy giggled.
"What?" Mike gasped. "But I thought that Dickwipe..."
"He knows nothing about your activities here, Mike," she said, unbuttoning her blouse and exposing her pert breasts. "He had his suspicions, but no concrete evidence."
"But, the local paper. Isn't he going to..."
"Again, there's no proof. Well, what are you all waiting for? Aren't we all going to enjoy a night of wild sex?"
Hastily stripping off, Mike thanked Satan for his help in the new business venture. Now the money would pour in, the fanny juice would flow and the spunk gush!
"Mr Hunt!" someone called, tapping on the window. "Mr Hunt, I've come to pull your fuse! You haven't paid your..."
"The cheque's in the post!"
"I'm sorry, but..."
"Fuck off!"
-oOo-
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Haunting Lust
Reaching the top of the stairs, Tina became uneasy. Wishing that she'd asked Luke to stay, she found herself in a large room full of cobwebs. The dirty skylight barely lit the musty room but she could just make out a table positioned in the centre of the floor. Moving nearer, she discovered that the top was covered with soft leather, with steel rings screwed to the
four corners. Running her hand over the leather top, she decided to look for a light switch and turned to the doorway...
When twenty-year-old Tina Wilson moves into the old Victorian house that had been left to her, she suddenly becomes aware of a heightened new sexuality flooding through every fibre of her being.
The mystery of what had triggered this powerful change is discovered in the attic, where she finds a hidden torture chamber and old diaries that reveal the true nature of the occult force that has possessed her with this haunting lust.
-oOo-
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