‘What are you hiding in here, Jessica?’ she asked, and I could not frame a reply, for one of those impudent fingers had stroked its way, through the crisp hair, down to the seam of my sex lips and now pressed lightly against my bud. I felt the skin of my clitoral hood slide over the little nub, as Anne’s knowing finger rubbed its way between the moistening lips of my sex. Slow, delicious tingles spiralled lazily up my spine, like bubbles fizzing along the stem of a straw, and my hips rocked unconsciously with the flares of pleasure produced by Anne’s manipulations. My cheeks brushed against the silky fronts of Anne’s hips, and the realisation of her total nakedness poked through the fabric of pleasure that her finger was weaving in my mind. She was wearing no knickers, and the fleeting contact of her pubic hair against the crease of my bottom confirmed this. I pushed my bottom back more firmly, to feel her nakedness better, and the front of her melded into the back of me like we were made of plastic. Her breasts bulged against my shoulder blades. Her stomach sucked against the sweaty hollow of my back. Her thighs flexed in hot, muscular contact against the straining backs of mine.
I felt cool air slip in between us as she moved her left hand away, out from the restriction of my panties, and into the warm space where my buttocks pressed against her taut inner hip. Her fingers curled around the full flesh of my bottom, where it tensed beneath my cotton pants. She gathered up the material and, in one smooth movement, pulled it up into the tight cleft between my cheeks. It felt oddly, uncomfortably sexy, to have my bottom divided in such a way. The pressure on my clit increased as Anne’s hand was pulled tightly against my cunt by the drawing up of my knickers at the front, by the tugging at my behind. I tilted my upper torso away from Anne, to ease the pressure between my cheeks, and the heavy globules of my swollen-tipped breasts hung like ripe fruit. I moved my right arm over Anne’s, so that she could twist around my hip, and burrow even deeper between my thighs. I felt a finger slip wetly into me, between my puffy lips, and wriggle like a little snake along the crease.
The edge of Anne’s hand kept the pressure on my clitoris, as her fingers squirmed up into my pulsing slit. I bent forward, rudely opening my legs to strengthen the stance, and braced my upper body by clutching the corded muscle above my knees with both hands. The hand at my rear was adjusted, and I felt the slim fingers joining in the seeking of their fellows at my front, A sudden stretching sensation in my sex heralded their entry, and I groaned in utter abandon as Anne smoothly pushed a couple of fingers in. She leaned away from me a little, and her right hand ceased to play around the entrance of my cunt, and concentrated on the pearly nub that was the centre of my pleasure. Her other hand had found a rhythm that was clearly pleasing to us both and, with each inward movement, I felt the entrance of my vagina yield a little more.
‘God, you’re so fucking tight!’ Anne murmured, even as I felt her attempt to add another finger.
‘No, too much,’ I protested, as the finger joined the others within me. She slowed her pace, and shortened the movement of her hand, and I trembled on the edge of acceptance. She kept me there, on that delicious precipice, by the perfection of her knowledge. She knew, by the shudders of my hips and the shivering in my legs, that I was close to coming.
Moving swiftly, she withdrew her hands and rolled my cotton pants down, over the swell of my hips, until they were stretched taut across my widespread thighs. She rubbed her whole forearm down my perineum and over the swollen lips of my cunt, then back up, to fiercely enter me again with three bunched fingers. My brazenness increased with my excitement, and I tilted my hips up to her, so that she could push her hand more rudely into my stretched and slippery pussy. I groaned, and squeezed the walls of my vagina against the insistent press of her slim fingers. She slapped me, once, twice across my broad cheeks, and I came against the thrusting, beak-like intrusion of her hand. My head snapped up, and I howled with ecstasy.
‘That’s it! Come,’ she cried, and slapped me once again in delirious arousal. I felt her hand slip out of me, as I fell to my knee, with my pants tangled around my lower thighs. I turned my head groggily, and her figure swayed above me as my eyes struggled to focus. I watched as she sat down before me and lay on her back. Her brown thighs lolled wide, and the slit below the thin stripe of her pubic hair gaped pinkly out at me. I saw her hands float down, dreamlike, to flirt with the glistening opening, and watched, fascinated, as the pale ovals of her fingernails disappeared into the puffy crack. She had no ring on her fingers, and her right hand slipped up, unhindered, until only the last knuckles could be seen. Her other hand had slipped beneath her, and she raised her hips up so that she could delve between her plump cheeks. I clearly saw her pink and hairless anus accept the probing of the middle finger of that hand.
I rolled over on my naked hip to her, so that I could lie on my side and watch her masturbate. My eyes had adjusted to the dimness, and every detail of what she was doing was plain to me. I was especially fascinated by what she was doing to her arse, and my gaze was concentrated there. I lay as if in a dream and devoured the sight of her anus sucking at that slim finger. It bulged a little outwards as the slim stem withdrew, shining from the juices that were dribbling from the workings of her other hand.
The noises of Anne’s panting mingled with the wet sounds of her masturbation, until it was difficult for my ear to separate the two. I saw her arsehole tighten, and her cheeks bunch ever tighter against the hand between them. It looked like some kind of sandy-coloured spider crouched in the seam of her bottom, probing with one jointed leg into the crinkled hole that they framed. Her huffing and puffing changed to low animal groans, and the firm muscles of her inner thigh strained so that the tendons were thrown into sharp relief. Her upraised stomach rippled with contractions as she jerked her hand inside herself. My own stomach tensed as her crisis approached, until there was a knot of tension under my heart. All at once she collapsed, letting her bottom thump down on to the spider. Its legs fluttered weakly under the bulge of her cheeks, while her other hand slipped out to dangle against her inner thigh. I hauled myself over to her on shaking limbs, until I was crouched on all fours above her. I gently let my upper body down to rest on hers, and felt the answering clasp of her damp thighs around my waist. My knickers were in a tangle round my ankles, so I kicked them off, and drew my knees up under me again, so that my bottom swayed loosely to the cool air that drifted in the open window. I lay like that, with my head on her sweat-beaded chest, and listened to the heavy thumping of her heart. My head rose and fell gently, with her breathing, and her hand eventually walked up the wet coils of my hair to rest on the crown of my head. Her heartbeat was slow and steady before she next spoke, and I smiled into the golden skin of her chest.
‘You are going to have to return to that house, Jessica,’ she said, ‘but don’t worry. I shall be going with you.’
I murmured some sort of thanks against the firm mound of one breast, but I was lost in the feeling of the coolness in my cleft and the loose, lazy sensation in my bottom.
‘I have a plan,’ she continued, ‘and I think you’re going to like it.’
I listened to her outline of what we would do. Her voice rumbled pleasantly up from her chest, and I felt the first warm stirrings of hope light a stray ember in my stomach. The slide into depravity began there, and I would love every minute of it.
Three
The first step to freedom was, oddly enough, my return to the place that I had come to think of as a prison. Leo’s house.
As Anne pointed out to me, it was also legally mine, and Leo’s relatives had no right of abode there against my wishes. Though I could have happily whiled away the afternoon in Anne’s big bed, I was given no opportunity to try, as Anne insisted that I re-establish my rights to my own home as soon as possible. Even so, it was after three before we were ready to leave her house. There was a lot of exploratory fumbling, especially on my part. Having opened the avenue of Sapphic passion, I was loath to close it down again so quickly.
‘
Business first,’ said Anne, as we got into my car and strapped ourselves into the deep seats. ‘You must not let them drive you out. You are going to take charge of your life, and your home, even if it means calling the police to remove them. Though, if our plan is to have any success, it will be better if we can manipulate them into staying.’
Seeing the look of trepidation that crossed my features, she clearly guessed it had nothing to do with concentration on my driving, and hastened to reassure me.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said, while laying a slim hand on my knee. ‘I’ll be with you every step of the way. Those two bitches are no match for me.’
‘If you keep your hand there, I’ll crash long before we get there,’ I said, with a nervous laugh to let her know I was joking. ‘If you just stand near me, Anne, I’ll deal with them myself. I’m not a mouse, really – even if I do come over to your house crying my eyes out, when I hardly know you.’
I glanced over, to see what her face said, and was pleased when she smiled an answer to the question implicit in my words.
‘I think we’ll know each other inside out before long,’ she said, and we both snorted with laughter.
The prospect of the confrontation ahead added a slightly high note to my own hilarity. Anne obviously noticed, and attempted to take my mind off it by going over the outline of her plan again.
‘Are you clear on what it is we are going to do, Jessica?’ she asked, and plunged on without waiting for my reply, which was only a low mumble of dubious certainty anyway. ‘First we establish who is boss: namely, you. Then we lay down the conditions of my employment, and my duties.’
‘What if they ask about your professional qualifications?’ I interrupted her. ‘I expect that Leo needs all sorts of medications, and it wouldn’t look good if he died because we didn’t give him adequate care. The doctors told me that he is on a knife-edge at the moment, and that any excitement could trigger another attack.’
I felt the look that Anne gave me then. Even though I could only see her out of the corner of my eye, I knew instantly what she was thinking. I confess, the thought had occurred to me at the same time.
‘No, Anne,’ I protested. ‘We can’t do that. No matter how rotten Leo is. It wouldn’t be right.’
‘What?’ she said, with a very suspect note in her voice. ‘I have no intention of exciting the man. Though if you felt that you wanted to make his twilight years more interesting, as far as I can see, you would only be doing your wifely duties. At least he would go with a smile on his face.’
‘Oh, Anne! You are impossible,’ I spluttered in reply, as I assumed she was joking. Yet I couldn’t achieve her levity of tone. What was worrying me was that the idea of titillating Leo until he died of excitement had taken root in my mind and, like a stubborn tune that one hates, was reeling like a merry-go-round in my head.
‘Don’t worry about the real nursing. I have a lot of contacts who will be able to help out,’ Anne explained, in a more serious tone. ‘The worst thing that could happen right now is if the guy pops his clogs so soon after you marrying him. The one blessing that you have is that they think he got in the state he’s in through overstrenuous consummation. If they realise he didn’t even dip his wick, they might get the marriage annulled, and you’ll have gone through all this for nothing.’
‘Dip his wick? What kind of a way is that to describe it? Honestly, Anne. You sound like a seaside comedian. Dip his bloody wick, for fuck’s sake!’ I said, through peals of laughter that forced me to grip the wheel a little harder to keep the car from swerving.
‘Look, the guy’s a pig, Jessica,’ said Anne, ‘and it wasn’t your fault that he had a stroke, so don’t start getting too sympathetic just yet, or those two cows waiting up at the house will walk all over you. Just remember what he was going to do to you, and you’ll be fine.’
It was a sobering thought, and it kept me in silence all the rest of the short drive to the house. The crunching of the gravel driveway, normally a comforting sound, started a little knot of tension under my ribcage that would not go away, even when I drew in several deep breaths. I hate confrontation, and the sound of raised, argumentative voices.
The front door opened as we swung up in front of the house. I turned to Anne as I switched the engine off and could tell, by the wide-eyed look on her face, that she was impressed by the handsome Georgian facade, and the sheer size of the place.
There wasn’t a lot of time to admire the scenery, as Leo’s sister wasted no time before swinging into the attack. She strode towards me with short, aggressive strides, and stood directly in my path, with her hips cocked and her arms folded. Perhaps it was my experience with Anne that made the difference, but I didn’t find her physical presence quite so intimidating as I had on our last encounter. I found myself thinking that she was quite short, really, and soft, underneath the fiery Latin surface. I became aware, even as she started speaking, that I was assessing her in a totally different way to the last time we had faced each other. I noticed the plump and shapely thighs which her faded jeans only served to emphasise. I noticed the heavy swell of her breasts above the folded arms, and the slight imprint of her nipples through the light yellow cotton of her shirt. She was wearing a bra, but there was the faintest chill in the afternoon breeze, which caused the little peaks of her breast-buds to show hard through the thin material. I stared at the seam of her zip, where it slipped away into the dark blue denim at her groin, and wondered if her sex was as plump as it looked. It was impossible to be afraid of her, now that I wanted to hold her down and kiss her. Kiss her purple lipstick until it was smeared over her chin. Kiss the thin, fine skin around her wet, brown eyes.
I snapped back into the real world as the sense of her words struck me. My temper flared, and I concentrated hard on what she was saying. She had started by observing that I was back, and asked me if I was coming to pick up my things. My lack of a response and the odd look I was giving her seemed to make her nervous, and she stuttered a little as she continued.
‘W-well,’ she snapped, ‘are you going to stand there all d-day? What do you want?’
I snorted a bitter laugh of contempt, and walked past her, making sure that I gave her a swipe of my hip as I did so. I was six inches taller, and at least a stone heavier, so she was knocked off balance by me as I passed. It enraged her.
‘Hey, you,’ she squawked, ‘where the fuck do you think you are going?’
I turned on her and, planting a hand on her ample chest, I leaned into her so that our eyes were on a level and four inches apart.
‘I am going into my house, to my rooms, and I am bringing my friend with me,’ I said, spitting the words out through clenched teeth. ‘Now get this through your silly little head, Vivian. I expect that Leo is glad to have you here, even though he is unable to say so: and, out of respect for his feelings, I am willing to tolerate you, and that other one, Antonia. Don’t make the mistake of thinking that I won’t change my mind if you don’t treat me properly, and don’t think I won’t have you thrown out on your arse if you upset me. I have had about as much as I can stand of you, and I will not put up with it any more. Do you understand?’
She looked stunned, yet she clearly had enough sense to nod her agreement. I think she sensed that my blood had risen, and that I was close to violence. Without another word to Vivian, or a backwards glance, I strode towards the house, pausing only to call Anne after me with a peremptory, ‘Miss Simpson, follow me and I will show you to your room.’
I strode firmly up the stairs, knowing Anne would follow, and led her to the room where Leo had had his ‘accident’. I felt a small thrill of excitement as I turned the handle, and beckoned to Anne to follow. She maintained a straight face just long enough for me to close the door, and then she swept over to me, smiling like a lunatic.
‘God, that was so exciting. I thought you were going to punch her,’ she gasped, and ran her hands all over my back. Her leg slipped between mine, as she turned her head to kiss me. The noi
sy working of our tongues consumed me, and I reached down under the hem of her summer frock to sweep it up and bare her hips. My hands swept all over her silky thighs, her cool bottom-cheeks, her fluttering stomach, and then my right hand dipped to the soft bulge of her knicker-covered cunt.
How wet she was! Her panties were soaked at the seam between her warm thighs, and she wriggled her self on to my palm when I cupped her damp mound. It was the work of a moment to peel the damp material aside, and for the sweetest time my hand slipped against her wet slit. I had no patience then, and no sooner than I had touched her, my fingers slipped within her. Up, so easily, into the folds of slippery flesh. She tensed her legs, and I felt the warm tunnel contract around the ends of my first two probing fingers. My thumb dipped upwards, to graze the wet nub of her little clit, and my other hand folded round her, to pull her right buttock to one side. The fingers of that hand touched her anus, making her momentarily squeeze her cheeks, and she expelled a little puff of ecstatic breath into my neck.
‘Oh! You make me so excited,’ she whispered, and bent her right leg around the back of mine. ‘Rub my arse, too, Jessica. I like it,’ she continued.
I tried to oblige her, though I had to keep twisting my torso around to keep both hands in place as she squirmed her lower body to the rhythm of my moving hands. I was able to slip the first two knuckles of the three largest fingers on my right hand into her front, while I explored the unfamiliar waxy crinkling of the entrance at her rear. I felt both openings contract together, and my own cunny flooded wetly at the sensations in my fingertips. I smelled the arousal on the panting breaths that popped softly between her flushed and swollen lips. I pushed my bunched digits into her, as far as they would comfortably go, and she let out a loud, ‘Ooooh!’ of satisfaction. I released her, and pushed her backwards, so that the hollows of her knees met the heavy counterpane on the edge of the bed. She collapsed weakly backwards, and flung her arms out over her head. I kneeled, and grabbed the hem of her flimsy dress with both hands. I was so eager to see her naked again that I pushed it clumsily upwards as if it was a rag. Her flat, muscular belly soared into view, and the untidy white sprawl of her little cotton pants. They were pushed to one side still, and the plump and swollen lips of her pretty cunt pouted beneath their little crowning strip of fluffy, auburn hair. I pushed the dress up over her bra, until it was wreathed below her hairless armpits; then I pushed her bra up over her creamy tits, so that it awkwardly framed the quivering mounds of sandy flesh. Her nipples glowed a dark, goose-pimpled brown, and stood erect like the little disks of chocolate on iced currant buns. I swept her little panties down to her ankles, and then tugged them roughly over her shiny leather shoes.
The Young Wife Page 5
