“What?”
“The shed.”
Their converted cottage had a garden, at the bottom of which stood an old wooden shed.
“The shed? But surely that’s got a padlock on it?”
“It has. But there’s an old lock on the door as well. Come and see.”
They walked out into the warm summer evening, and down to the black shed.
“There.”
Sally saw the lock in the door, painted over with the same black paint that covered the shed. Long disused, it had been replaced by a hasp and padlock.
“I reckon that old key belongs to it,” he said.
As they started back to the house Sally took his hand in hers. “Don? Would you mind if we eat a bit late tonight?”
“I don’t mind. Why?”
“I’d like to stay outside in the sun for a bit. I’ll get some wine.”
She went back to the house; Don turned and ran his fingers over the lock. Suddenly he felt cold, and the sunshine seemed paler. Then the feeling evaporated as he heard Sally’s voice. She was carrying an open bottle of wine and two glasses, and a blanket was draped across her shoulder.
“Come on,” she called. “Help me spread the blanket.”
“Blanket? What’s wrong with the garden chairs?”
“Oh, don’t be stuffy. You used to enjoy the blanket before we got married. Or are you getting too old?”
She dropped the blanket and poured two glasses of wine.
“Cheeky. I’m not too old to give you six of the best on your pretty little backside.”
“Promises, promises.”
Sally drank half her wine, dropped to her knees and straightened the blanket.
Don held out his hand. “Let me top you up.”
Sally gave him her glass and then squealed as he dropped down beside her, grabbed her and turned her face down across his knees.
“Too old, eh?”
He tugged her skirt up around her waist. “Silk panties, no less. Right, two with them on, and four with them off.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“Oh no?”
He spanked her lightly, just once on each silk-covered cheek.
Sally squealed, and wriggled frantically as he hooked his fingers under the waistband and slid the panties down.
“Lovely,” he whispered. She tensed as he caressed her with the palm of his hand and then screeched with indignation as it fell sharply, twice on each of the firm, round globes of flesh.
She began to struggle, and then stopped as his hand moved down between her legs and a fingertip found her clitoris.
The spanking had already excited her, and very soon her hips were jerking across his knees until she came to a shuddering climax. He held her until her body stopped shaking, pulled her pants up, smoothed down her skirt and let her go. She rolled away and lay on her back. Her hair was dishevelled and her eyes were shining.
“Nice?”
“Fantastic!” She stretched up her arms.
Don lay down, put his arms around her and as they kissed Sally worked her hand down and freed his rigid cock.
She took the shaft in one hand and ran the tip of the index finger of the other up and down the glans, making him shudder.
“So hard,” she murmured. She wrapped her fingers around its swollen head and moved them up and down, agonizingly slowly, then took it inside her mouth.
She worked slowly, licking and sucking, sliding up and down on his cock in a steady rhythm. Gradually she increased the pace, taking more of him inside her mouth, sucking harder.
Don felt the first warning tingle spreading quickly up through his body until he shouted out loud as he exploded in her mouth.
She fell back, grabbed the wine bottle and took a long drink. Don rolled over and sat up. As his eyes refocused, three small, ghastly figures appeared in front of the old shed. Their empty eye sockets were fixed on him and their fleshless fingers pointed at Sally’s back. He screamed, and fell back on the grass as the world went dark around him.
From somewhere far away he heard Sally’s frightened voice, and he struggled to sit up.
“Lie back,” she said. Don kept still for a moment then pushed himself up on to his elbows.
“What happened?” he whispered; then as the awful memory flooded back he sat up abruptly and looked frantically about him.
“You fainted. Don, what is it?”
He clenched his fists and forced himself to calm down. “I’m not sure, Sal. Let’s get inside.”
Don poured a large whisky, gulped it down, and refilled the glass. Shivering, he put off Sally’s questions. He stood for a long time under a hot shower, dried himself, and pulled on a heavy dressing gown. Sitting in the lounge, he told her what he had seen, not mentioning that the figures had been pointing at her, not him.
They talked for a long time, not eating but drinking their way through most of the bottle of whisky. Finally, Sally stood.
“Come on,” she said. “We both need some rest. I’ll ring in tomorrow and tell Charles you’re sick.”
Don stood and stretched. “I need some water after all that whisky.”
“Bring me some please. I’m off upstairs.”
Don went into the kitchen and switched on the light.
The key was lying in the centre of the table.
Don looked at in disbelief, then picked it up and examined it carefully. It was the same key he had thrown in the bin, of that he was sure. Eventually he shrugged and dropped it into the pocket of his dressing gown. He poured two glasses of water and took them upstairs to the bedroom, saying nothing to Sally about the key.
They slept late. Sally called Don’s boss to explain that Don had come down with a bad stomach. She took Jack out for his walk mid-morning, and left Don alone in the house.
He took the key from his dressing gown, went downstairs, and sat on the couch. He turned the rusty piece of metal over and over in his hands. After a long while he took the bunch of keys from the hook behind the back door and walked down to the shed.
He removed the padlock and pushed and pulled at the door, but it wouldn’t shift.
Reluctantly Don took the rusty key from his pocket, forced it into the lock and twisted it. It turned easily and silently, as if the lock had been freshly oiled. The door swung inwards. Don stepped into the gloomy interior and wrinkled his nose at the musty smell.
There was a noise behind him and he jerked around to see the door swing closed with a thud.
He stood in shock in the darkness. As he was about to move he realized that there was a faint greenish light glowing from above him. As it grew brighter he could see that he was in not in a wooden shed full of tools and boxes, but in a stone cave with a rocky ceiling high above his head. The air in front of him shimmered and for the first time in his life Don experienced absolute terror. The skeletal creature he had seen in the bedroom appeared before him with its bone finger pointed at his heart.
He turned to run, then froze when he saw he was ringed by a dozen of the child-sized, skeletal figures, all with their fingers raised towards him.
Soundless voices filled his brain. “Be still!” They screamed. “We don’t want you. We want the child.”
Don fell to his knees. A frozen fingertip touched his brow, and Don felt a dreadful pain as he fell senseless to the stone floor …
… Don jerked awake as a warm wet tongue rasped across his face.
“Hello, sweetheart,” said Sally. “We had a good walk, didn’t we Jack?”
Jack leapt up and licked him again, as Don stared blankly at his wife’s face.
“What’s wrong, love? Were you dreaming again?”
“No. Uh … yes …” Don stuttered. His mind cleared rapidly. “No, it’s all right. I must have dropped off.”
He jumped to his feet. “How about a cup of tea?”
“Well,” said Sally. “If you’re so lively, how about sorting out a problem in the kitchen first?”
“What problem?”
&nb
sp; “I think there’s a leak. Could you have a look?”
Don sighed, and went into the kitchen. Sally followed. He felt fine, but he could remember nothing of what he had done since getting out of bed.
Maybe I’m going nuts, he thought.
“Where’s the problem?”
Sally opened the cupboard door under the sink. “In there somewhere. I’ll turn the tap on.”
Don sank to his knees and peered into the dark cupboard. “I can’t hear anything dripping.”
“Just a minute.”
He heard Sally moving around behind him and he edged forward.
“I don’t think …” he began, and banged his head hard as he received a tremendous whack across his backside, followed by a second.
Bemused, he struggled back to his feet.
“Spank me, would you?”
A bowl of icy water was dumped over his head. Sally dropped a big wooden spatula on the floor, dashed out of the kitchen, and fled up the stairs.
Don stood for a moment in shock, and then grinned. He stripped off all his clothes and dropped them in a heap on the kitchen floor. He found a tub of soft ice-cream in the fridge, removed the lid and took it with him to the bedroom.
Sally was lying on the bed, her short skirt up around her thighs. “What do you want, naked stranger?” she purred.
He dropped the ice-cream tub on the floor, hopped up on the bed and straddled her waist.
“That was very naughty. I think it deserves a tickling. But first let’s get these clothes off.”
He stripped her, leaving just her panties, holding her easily in his strong arms. Then he tickled her mercilessly, turning her this way and that and using his fingertips all over her body until she begged him to stop.
Then he settled down above her and ran his cock slowly up and down in the valley between her breasts.
“Spanking? Or should I just tell you how gorgeous you are?”
He leaned down and kissed her. She looped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes as his lips moved to her breasts.
He reached back until his searching hand found the ice cream tub. He scooped up a handful of ice cream, slipped it under the waistband of her panties and dropped the freezing mixture between her legs.
Sally shrieked and jerked as Don grabbed her and pinned her arms to her sides.
“You bastard!”
She wriggled frantically, kicking her legs, but Don held her tight and laughed against her breasts. As her struggles subsided, he released her, reached back down to the tub and dropped another large dollop of ice cream between her breasts. She gasped and shuddered as he smeared it across her nipples.
“Keep still,” he whispered. He lowered his head and began to lick, at the same time rubbing the front of her panties, pressing the melting ice cream into her pussy. Her breathing became heavier as he licked and sucked the ice cream from her breasts. He moved down, pulled the panties away and began licking the insides of her thighs, working his way slowly upwards.
She threw her legs wide apart as his tongue parted the lips of her vagina. He licked with long, steady strokes and she reached a hand to the back of his head to pull him harder against her. His tongue reached her clitoris and moved faster and faster until her body arched upwards and she sank back on the pillows.
Don sat up and took a deep breath. He kissed her and she reached down, twined her fingers round his cock, urging him upwards between her slick thighs until he slid inside her. He moved in and out deliberately, watching her face, refusing to speed up, playing with her, stopping and starting again. Gradually, she began to lose control. Her breath came in shorter and shorter gasps, and she began to moan deep in her throat. Don slowed his pace and she tried to move faster, straining frantically against him.
“Please,” she whispered as he stopped moving, his cock buried to the hilt.
Twice more he brought her near to the point of no return, only to stop just before she could come. Her eyes were pleading with him as he started to move again.
“This time,” he whispered, and quickened his pace. Her legs rose up around him as she matched his thrusts, until they came together with deep groans of mutual satisfaction.
They lay still for a long time then Don slipped out of her and stood up. “Good stuff, that ice cream.” He picked up the tub. “Some more?”
“Don’t you dare!”
He laughed and went into the bathroom.
Two days later, Don came home to find his wife in the kitchen.
“I’ve got something to tell you,” she said, eyes gleaming. “I’ll get you a drink first.”
“Something so bad I’ll need a drink?”
Sally laughed. “I hope not,” she said, handing him a glass of wine.
“Aren’t you having one?”
“No, sweetheart, I’ll be leaving the alcohol alone for a while.”
Don stared at her for a minute then a huge grin spread over his face.
“You’re pregnant!”
“Yes, sweetheart, confirmed this morning.”
“Great! Surely you can have a drop of wine to celebrate?”
“Well, maybe a little drop.”
Sally turned and opened the cupboard behind her then snatched her hand back.
“Don!”
He leapt to her side. “What’s wrong?”
The key was lying on the shelf, next to the wine glasses.
“You threw it away. I’m sure it wasn’t there when I got your glass! I know it wasn’t!”
She started to cry and Don put his arm around her.
“Stay here, love. I’ll sort this out.”
He went back into the kitchen and grabbed the key. As he did so, words echoed in his head and slabs of memory thumped down in his brain.
“We want the child.”
“No!” he snarled and felt the key writhe in his hand.
Don strode out to the garage where a spare car battery stood in the corner. He dropped the key into a plastic bucket, unscrewed the cell caps from the battery, and poured acid on it. As the first drops hit it and the surface began to bubble, screaming filled his head and pain flared.
The screaming and the pain went on but he gritted his teeth and sat down heavily on the concrete floor, shaking the bucket to swirl the liquid inside and slowly the noise and the pain died away.
After a long time he stood and looked down. The key was gone. Don took the bucket into the garden, connected the hose, and directed a powerful jet of water into it. Steam rose and the bucket skittered across the grass, spun around and fell against the side of the shed.
Don turned off the hose and examined the shed. The padlock was still there but the old lock had disappeared. Dirty black wood stretched across the whole width of the door. He turned and went back indoors.
Sally was sitting on the couch, stroking Jack.
“It’s OK, honey,” Don said. “I’ve really got rid of it this time.”
Sally smiled. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Was I being silly?”
“No, love.” Don rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Forget it! You’re going to have our baby! A thought struck him.
“Uh, does that mean we can’t …?”
“Of course we can. For months yet.” She grinned. “In fact, if you feel like it now …”
Her words were left hanging in the air as Don picked her up and carried her up the stairs.
“Los Hermanos”
by Mark Farley
I love the area I live in. West London is a subtle cacophony of the rich and poor, all kicking their heels in the same places. Myself included, but I am neither rich nor poor.
It’s as much of a representation of the many different faces of this city as you will find. Early mornings are my favourite. Even when I am not working, I will get up early for the gym or just to venture out into this melee of society and bask in all of its variety. After all, variety is the key (or is it the spice?) to life. It certainly has been for me since the divorce.
Richard’s mother re
gistered relief and glee when he broke the news to his parents over dinner. She never liked me. To his credit, though, he took equal blame as we sat there in our dining room carving into our racks of lamb, despite the majority of affairs originating from my side of the marriage. Not that he didn’t have any of his own, he was just more faithful to his one, ongoing mistress (also married herself) than I was with my string of casual male suitors. But I honestly thought that things would pan out in the long run and he would eventually warm to the idea of having children. He didn’t, and after five years of asking, we both realised it had become something of a deal breaker in our lives.
I then met David, my younger, and considerably more eager, lover. He was great and he wanted a family, but I soon realised that he wasn’t ready at 23 to do anything apart from clubbing and picking up other girls. In fact, the underlying lack of responsibility and the raging infidelity pretty much brought things to a close. I should have known really. I met him on a website catering for middle-aged women looking to date younger men and he more than boasted that he was working his way through the 30-40 category (in which I come halfway) when we met. So, despite his tremendous abilities as a lover, I came to the conclusion that it was time to move on. So that’s what I did.
After a couple of weeks of moping around the flat and watching Sex and the City marathons on Paramount Comedy, I had the urge to have some fun again. Which is when I came across Ruben, who provided me with my recent sexual awakening and gave me the first taste of my new favourite indulgence.
I’d woken that particular morning with a raging libido as well, if I remember correctly. This is strange for me, as normally I’m a 1.30pm-2.30pm kinda girl. Quite precise, I realise and admittedly not ideal for a girl working office hours but, at the weekends, when the shine is cutting through my bedroom curtains, making me feel idle and relaxed, I’m all mine. Plus, there’s nothing better than a lunchtime lie-in on a weekend and a pulsating, self-inflicted moment of joy.
I felt naughty and liberated with my new found availability and pondered upon how I could fill the moment with a horny male specimen. Most of my casual encounters had gone silent or were ‘spending more time with their wives’ so I considered a call to one or two acquaintances. Just guys that had given me their numbers, in a vague hope that I would call. I rummaged through my purse for the business cards and random scraps of paper I had collected, mostly in clubs with my supportive girlfriends who took me out with the premise of being the one who put me on the road to recovery, and tried to recall the people that they belonged to. Nothing.
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