Erotic Obsession
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Total-e-bound
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Copyright ©2008 by Iona Blair
First published in 2008, 2008
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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CONTENTS
EROTIC OBSESSION
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
About the Author
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A Total-e-bound Publication
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www.total-e-bound.com
Erotic Obsession
ISBN #978-1-906590-02-4
©Copyright Iona Blair 2008
Cover Art by Anne Cain ©Copyright January 2008
Edited by Michele Paulin
Total-e-bound books
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author's imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-e-bound eBooks.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-e-bound eBooks. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2007 by Total-e-bound eBooks 1 The Corner, Faldingworth Road, Spridlington, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK.
Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-taboo.
EROTIC OBSESSION
Iona Blair
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Dedication
For my readers
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Durango: Durango: Chrysler Corporation
Volkswagon: Volkswagen Aktiengesellschaft
Oldsmobile: General Motors Corporation
Coke: The Coca-Cola Company Corporation
White Owl Cigar: General Cigar Co., Inc.
Mustang: Ford Motor Company
7-11: 7-Eleven, Inc.
Vaseline: Chesebrough-Pond's Inc.
Chivas Regal: Chivas Brothers Pernod Ricard Limited
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Chapter One
"We can't do it here, someone will see us."
"Nah, they're all in the restaurant having dinner,” Jay Drennan assured his companion. Gladys Ross had glowing skin and dimpled cheeks. “Come on, I want to fuck you so bad I can taste it."
It was a foggy evening and the Fenner Island ferry moved cautiously through the water, blasting out intermittent warnings from its horn.
On the car deck, the smell of gasoline fumes hung like a pall in the chilly night air. Jay opened the back door of his Durango and they crawled into the back. It was a tight squeeze, but they were too infused with desire to care.
"Oh you feel so good,” he murmured, his cock rising hard against her leg. His hands moved hungrily over her breasts.
Gladys kissed him ravenously, her breath coming in short, laboured pants.
Jay tugged down her panties in one deft movement and mounted her quickly.
"Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes,” she gasped, as his cock thrust like a lance into her swollen cunt. The ferocity of their movements rocked the vehicle, and Gladys thrilled at the feel of his balls banging against her vulva like determined knockers at a bolted door. Her crisis built within her like a tidal wave, then crashed against the shore.
Jay cried out as her spasms gripped his cock and rippled down the shaft. Three forceful thrusts later, and he too reached an electrifying orgasm. He slipped his hands under her ass and held her close, while his semen pumped into her body in fitful spurts.
A car door slamming close by brought them back to reality with a start. Gladys, her face flushed with excitement, pulled up her panties and straightened her dress. While Jay, still dazed with passion, zipped up his fly and smoothed down his short black hair.
Gladys was the first person Jay had met when he'd moved to Fenner Island. She had been recommended by the real estate agent as an excellent housekeeper.
"She has a live-in job with an old lady, about a quarter of a mile from here,” the man had said, slipping some papers into his attaché case then snapping it shut. “Give her a try Mr. Drennan. I'm sure you won't be disappointed."
And he wasn't!
For as well as being cheerful and energetic, Gladys was ripe, voluptuous and willing. It was her custom to sing in a tremulous soprano as she pushed around the vacuum cleaner, moving furniture out of the way to access the corners.
Jay had begun to look forward to her weekly visits and would watch her surreptitiously as she bent over to sweep and dust, her curvaceous figure straining against the confines of a simple cotton housedress.
Then one day Gladys had arrived earlier than usual and caught him still in bed. She brought him a cup of coffee and then, quite casually, began stroking his morning erection. Jay had thrilled to the lightness of her touch and pulled her onto the bed, mounting her without preliminaries.
Today, they'd met quite by chance on the ferry. Gladys had been doing some shopping on the mainland, and Jay was making his usual weekly trip to one of his oldest clients.
"Do you have time for a quick one, or do you have to get right back?” he asked as they disembarked from the ferry.
Gladys laughed and showed off her dimples. “I've always got time for you, love. You know that."
The brief and hurried encounter on the ferry had whetted both their appetites for more, and immediately on entering the house, Gladys unzipped his fly and knelt down to accommodate him.
"Oh that feels wonderful,” Jay moaned, as her tongue flicked over the head of his cock, and she licked the pre-ejaculatory cum from the slit.
He grabbed Gladys’ head and fucked her mouth all the way back to the tonsils. She gagged slightly at first, but then relaxed her throat and opened it up to him like a sacrifice. She cupped his balls, which were banging against her chin and explored his tight, contracting anus. It was too much for him.
"I'm coming ... coming...” he groaned, erupting like a volcano, and spurting lava down her throat. Gladys closed her lips around his deflating cock and stroked the backs of his thighs.
He attempted to withdraw his cock from the hot mouth that had given him such pleasure, but she resisted and held him there until he began to swell again.
"I want you to fuck me hard,” she whispered and drew him towards the bed. She bent over it, her full behind trembling in anticipation.
Jay explored her inner thighs and genitals with his fingers, before penetrating her cunt with his cock. It
opened up for him like a flower to the sun.
He remembered with each frenzied thrust how surprised and delighted he had been when he'd first entered her, finding an unusually tight pussy which had a firm, almost painful grip.
Gladys cried when she climaxed and her shuddering sobs shook the bed. Her vaginal muscles contracted around his cock as her tumultuous orgasm rippled on and on. He patted her ass kindly and thrust into her once, twice, three times before he too reached that apex of earthly bliss.
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Jay lived in the Manse, a gabled cottage high on a cliff overlooking the open sea. The house was almost a hundred years old and had been built by a clergyman as a retirement home. It was rumoured to be haunted by the ghost of a former owner.
Jay had escaped to this secluded place from a hectic life in the financial district of the city a couple of years ago. He had been feeling stressed and dissatisfied. Now as he looked around the comfortable living room with its raftered ceiling and hardwood floors he felt a deep sense of peace and contentment. He had made the right move.
Stretched sensuously in a pool of sunlight lay his large white cat, Morag. The stereo played softly in the background, and overhead a quintet of seagulls screeched out their eternal cry above the crash of the waves below.
Jay refilled his coffee cup and took it into the long room at the end of the hall, which he used as an office. Originally built as a library to house the Reverend Filamore Day's collection of religious volumes, it faced south with floor to ceiling windows.
The early morning sun glinted off the shelf-lined walls and the massive mahogany desk that had come with the house. Jay was a computer programmer and did most of his work from home. At noon he stopped for a sandwich, which he ate on the sundeck. Then he reached for the old photograph which had filled his thoughts from the moment he had found it.
After one frigid winter spent in the draughty old house, Jay had resolved to insulate as much of it as possible. He'd installed weather stripping around the windows and doors, paying particular attention to the oversized window in the living room, which overlooked the open sea. Then, on a burnished day in autumn, when the icy breath of winter could be felt in the air, he'd begun work in the attic.
He'd started by tearing out the old newspapers that had been stuffed in the crevices around the walls and rafters to help ward off the draughts. Most of the newsprint was badly decayed, but some of it was still readable. Jay scanned the crumbling paper in fascination, reading articles and advertisements from over fifty years ago.
Back then, a brand new Oldsmobile had cost less than one-thousand-dollars. Coke was five cents and so was a White Owl cigar.
The light was beginning to fade as he'd tugged out an especially heavy piece of wadding from a crevice high up between the beams on the north wall. That was when he'd found the old photograph wedged behind the last sheet of yellowing newsprint. He could have easily missed it, and in the months to come, he'd often wished he had.
For a moment he'd stared in amazement at the unexpectedly erotic image captured by some camera of long ago. It was a very old sepia print, badly faded and crumpled, but still legible. Jay had lifted it carefully by the edges and taken it over to the small elliptical window to have a better look.
It was a provocative pose of a young woman wearing black knee-high stockings and lace-up boots with heels. She was leaning over the back of a blanket-draped chair with one knee on the seat cushion and one foot resting on the floor. Her striped dress was tucked up around her waist, exposing a beautifully rounded bare behind that was jutting out to accommodate her male partner.
He was a tall man with a hawk-like profile wearing baggy cotton trousers and a shirt with a long tail. He stood behind the woman, his hand resting on her waist while he inserted his erect penis into her anus.
Jay's own cock had risen in excitement as he'd looked at the erotic picture. But it was the bold look on the young woman's face, as she turned her head to look brazenly into the camera that had aroused him most of all. Here she was, bent over and getting fucked in the ass, but somehow, she had managed to preserve all her dignity and bearing. “I don't care what you think,” she seemed to be saying, and Jay would have dearly loved to bonk her lights out.
He'd traced the swell of her breast and bottom with his finger, then run it over the dark little crack that peeked out from beneath her partner's sizeable cock.
On the back of the photograph there was a name and date. Emma, someone had written in a bold clear hand, 1892.
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Chapter Two
The soft spring night glistened with moonlight. There was the scent of magnolias, and in the distance, the haunting call of a loon. Jay walked restlessly around his garden, wishing that he still smoked. A cigarette would be a comfort at moments like this. His mind burned with thoughts of the seductive woman in the old photograph. She was like an erotic Mona Lisa whose bold eyes seemed to follow him everywhere.
He wondered how the scandalous picture had ended up in a crevice in the attic wall? Who had hidden it there and why? The newspapers that had been stuffed in the space to block draughts were dated from a half a century ago. So it must have been stowed in there by someone, prior to that time. Unless, it had been put there by the same person who'd plugged up the hole with the newspapers?
Jay's feverish thoughts darted around in circles. The brazen look of the woman, staring directly into the camera as she took it in the ass, haunted him like some perpetual aphrodisiac.
And who had written Emma 1892 on the back of the picture? Surely, it must have been someone who'd known the woman or even the woman herself?
Jay watched a shooting star lance across the heavens. The night was turning chilly and he zipped up his jacket as he started back towards the house.
He was tremendously aroused, as thoughts of Emma whirred around in his mind like an overheated table fan. He stroked his erect cock, closing his eyes as it throbbed beneath his hand. But ejaculation eluded him. He needed some extra stimuli. He needed Emma's photograph.
"Emma, Emma, you brazen eyed bitch,” he gasped, as he stared at her image and quickly achieved relief.
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"Burning the midnight oil were we?"
Jay struggled awake to find Gladys standing beside his bed, blocking out the morning light that streamed through the window.
He remembered his arousal of the night before and the exhaustion that had overtaken him afterwards.
"Your little soldier is standing to attention,” she added seductively, running her fingers over his blanket-covered erection. She had the clean, tangy scent of freshly squeezed lemons on her hands, and Jay found this pleasantly sensual.
"He's saluting you,” he replied with a smile and tried to pull her into bed beside him, but she resisted.
He could hear the dishwasher going through the rinse cycle in the kitchen below and somewhere in the distance a dog howled.
Gladys sat down on the wing-backed armchair and lifted her dress above her knees. She caressed the insides of her thighs and removed her panties. Then she fondled her breasts while flicking her tongue across her lips.
The atmosphere in the sunny bedroom became charged with sexual tension as Gladys’ exploration of her own body continued. Her fingers raked over her panty-covered genitals, and her face was flushed with excitement. Jay stroked his throbbing erection and kept his hungry eyes riveted on his housekeeper's hot crotch. He shook with desire as she approached the bed and wrapped her wet panties around his cock. Then she began to masturbate him slowly and rhythmically while she moved her pelvis in tempo.
"Oh that feels so good...” he moaned, cupping her slippery cunt.
Gladys gasped as if in pain as he slipped two fingers inside her while his thumb rested tantalisingly over her clit. He moved his fingers over her vaginal wall until he found her G-Spot.
"Ah ... Ah ... Ah...” she gasped, as he tapped on this most sensitive of spots like a woodpecker chiselling into the bark o
f a tree. Her body heaved with passion and her hand movements on his cock became more frenzied.
"I'm going off...” she cried, her dimpled face contorted with passion, as hot, clear liquid gushed out of her palpitating pussy. He held her clitoris firmly between his thumb and forefinger, marvelling at the intensity of the spasms that shook this woman to the very core. At the height of her ecstasy Gladys took his cock so deeply into her mouth that her lips brushed against his balls.
Jay grabbed the back of her head and fucked her mouth in long, quick thrusts. When the end of his cock banged against her tonsils she gagged slightly and he withdrew. But she pulled it back into her mouth again, as far as it would go, until he convulsed with passion, splashing his juices in great fiery spurts over the back of her willing throat.
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It was a mild spring evening and Jay lingered on the sundeck listening to the cheerful bursts of birdsong. Morag, who had been stalking a moth around the rhododendron bush, rubbed herself affectionately around his legs. He bent down and picked her up.
But Jay's thoughts were wandering far away from his purring cat and the darkness stealing over his yard, to a woman who had lived in another century. To Emma, with her bold eyes, long brown hair and prettily rounded face.
Before going to bed, he examined the tattered old photograph for the hundredth time. He was hungry for the brazen look of the temptress, which was frozen in perpetuity by the camera's lens. And for the incredibly arousing sight of her perfectly rounded bum as she raised it seductively towards her partner. It was a need that even the hot and willing Gladys could not fill.
Could there possibly be some important detail he'd missed? Jay ran his finger hungrily over the image, taking in everything from the blanket-draped chair Emma leaned over to the floral wallpaper and Turkish rug on the floor.
He cautiously sipped at a cup of hot cocoa and listened to the rain drumming against the windows. His gaze transfixed by the unusually large penis that Emma was taking so nonchalantly in the ass.