The Young Wife

by The Young Wife [Nexus] (retail) (epub)

  Elizabeth squirmed her hips back at us, and I took this as a signal to go on. With fingers that shook with lust, I popped the catches on her body suit, until the strip at the rear whipped elastically up Elizabeth’s rounded spine, coming to rest on the middle of her back. I pushed the dangling halves up her torso, uncovering the stiff-tipped globes of her breasts. They bounced plumply on my palms as I squeezed them hard in my thin fingers. Antonia was pushing her fingers between the folds of rippled flesh that pursed around the entrance to Elizabeth’s pretty cunt, and her thumb was rubbing fiercely on the pearl of erect tissue at their apex. Elizabeth looked hotly over her shoulder at me, and her lower lip was loose and full with passion.

  I tore my eyes away from hers, and looked around the shelves for something greasy. I saw the tube of lubricant almost immediately, and straightened up to get it. I looked down as I stood, to see Elizabeth’s slitted eyes trying to see what I was reaching for. I reached behind my back and unzipped my dress, then let it fall around my ankles before I hooked it into the corner with my shoe. I rolled my panties down, with the tube of gel held awkwardly in one hand, and they followed my dress into the corner. I looked back to see Antonia, whose hand was slipping further up the crack between the open, golden thighs, staring at my naked hips and stockinged legs with adoration. I kneeled with thighs spread wide, and picked up the rounders bat.

  ‘You wouldn’t put that up my cunt, would you?’ Elizabeth said, panting and plaintive. I just smiled as I uncapped the gel, and squeezed a large dollop of the clear paste on to the rounded end of the wooden bat. The gel ran easily over the polished hemisphere, and it glistened when I turned it in the light. It was heavy, but not that thick. Perhaps two inches at its widest point. Still, wide enough for where I intended to put it.

  Antonia moved back as I shuffled forwards, and started fondling my wobbling cheeks as I settled behind Elizabeth’s smooth bottom-cleft. I had my first close-up look at her anus, and the sight sent a thrill of pleasure through my wide-spread loins. I stuck my bottom out to Antonia, as I squeezed a long string of the cold gel out in the air above Elizabeth’s open crack, and watched it fall, and curl, on to the hairless, rubbery seam of her perineum. Her little pink arsehole contracted at the cool touch on that warm place, and I watched, fascinated, as Elizabeth’s posture made it relax again. It was so tight looking, with the little ripples of waxy skin whorling away into a pinprick. It opened slightly more, and I could no longer keep myself from it. I touched it with a cold finger, and felt the muscular ring pull away from the contact, then I gathered the gel below it with two fingers and rolled it around the halo of darker tinted skin around it. I heard Elizabeth gasp, and pushed my forefinger into the tightness. I worked it back and forth, and she shuddered with delight. I pulled the finger smoothly out and smacked her left cheek, hard, with my slippery hand. I smacked her hard again, exulting in the offering of her arse. She groaned and squirmed, and I felt Antonia’s finger working slyly at my own bottom-hole. It was incredible to think Elizabeth would let me do this.

  I brought the heavy bat up, and rolled it round the glistening, greasy hole between Elizabeth’s perfect golden cheeks. She seemed to have second thoughts for a moment, and looked fearfully back at me as I tipped the end up so the head pressed firmly against her tight and vulnerable arsehole. I saw the crinkled ring quiver uncontrollably at the prospect of invasion, and knew that though Elizabeth was hot for the insertion, she was also a little afraid of the size of the implement. With my free hand, I steadied her hips, and the warm flesh felt wonderfully full and firm beneath my palm, but I felt the tremor of disquiet that she couldn’t hide, even though she whispered, ‘Do it. Go on. Push it into me.’

  God. How can I describe what it was like, seeing that thick peg begin to press into her? She groaned loudly, and whimpered a little, as the rounded end slipped over the resistant ring of muscle, then began to move inwards. I felt the moment when it passed the outer portal, and the sight of that long, brown column going into her little hole left me panting with excitement. I saw a hand move over her cunt, and knew that Antonia had been overcome with the sight. The bat continued smoothly on its inward path, and Elizabeth kept stiff, and tense as it made its slow progress. I stopped when it was an inch in, and carefully squeezed a slug of lubricant around the ring where it stretched the delicate skin of her anus. She was stiff with sensation, and her bottom did not move an inch as I rubbed the lubricant around her open arse. Then on it went, into her tightest place, until four inches of the bat were fully inside her taut arsehole. How strange she looked, and how utterly, dirtily desirable, as she let me work it back and forth in her rectum. I tilted it slightly, and rolled it just a little, and she howled with the sensations I was producing in her bottom. I frigged my boiling slit, as I tweaked the pole around inside her, and the little back and forth stabs of the smooth wood increased their pace as I neared my orgasm. Elizabeth was trembling uncontrollably, and the thick peg swayed dangerously in the elastic grip of her bottomhole. Before I was blind with the pleasure, I pulled it slowly, and carefully out of her, and the last sight I saw, before I had to squeeze my eyes tight shut with ecstasy, was the open arsehole of my pretty Elizabeth, quivering as it closed in orgasm.

  It was not the last time we played together that day, nor was that the last day we played.

  Ten

  My beautiful interlude with Roland, and the peace it gave me, had helped me make up my mind. I accept now that at that time my mind was not entirely stable. Which explains why the next thing I decided to do was to take the dangerous step of inviting a man to the house, and why I took the even more dangerous step of planning a second interlude. What was really dangerous was my wish to stage this second interlude in front of Leo. I had to devise a way to ‘entertain’ him which could not be construed as an affair if it was found out by the witches. I thought long and hard about it, to no avail, until one afternoon in the bath, where all the best ideas historically have been dreamed up, I hit upon the solution. I arranged to have the house burgled.

  My ‘burglar’, of course, was David, who had been getting precious little in the way of female comfort, and who was in a worse state almost than Leo after staying at my house for a week. It was a very strange atmosphere, as there were any number of sexual tensions and explorations going on at any one time. David was giving Vivian free physiotherapy in the interests of seduction. Anne and Antonia were doing God knows what with each other, and the added complication of Elizabeth had set the whole pot a-simmering with undercurrents of boiling lust bubbling just beneath the surface. My own case was the worst. I still teased Leo, and I plotted to tease him even more once I had a man on tap. I had to use David sparingly, as he already had a mission, and it would have been stupid to spoil Vivian’s self-appointed mission, or whatever it was, to save him from ‘his nature’.

  When I explained what I wanted him to do, I could tell he had misgivings, but it was also pretty obvious that he wanted some release from the necessary continence of his relationship with Vivian.

  And so it came about that I spent my first evening with Leo since our wedding night. He was tucked up, like a lord, in the rose and cedarwood four poster bed that had been installed for his convenience in the dining room. A thick, embroidered quilt, with white linen sheets and four fluffy pillows, feathered his luxurious nest. Every kind of pill and potion that could possibly be of help surrounded him. There was a Walkman, with piles of audio tapes, a television with multi-channels, a video recorder with films stacked up to knee height, every amusement money could provide: and still he lay there motionless, while life passed him by. I felt quite sorry for him by then, but I knew I had to go on. There was never going to be a way back to the girl I had been before I met him. In a sense, he had created me. I had yet to decide if I wanted, truly, to destroy what was left of him.

  The nurse had Wednesday nights off, and so I told the rest that I would see to him, as they all deserved their time off, too. The only one who was reluctant was Vivian, esp
ecially when she heard David announce that he was going to town to meet some friends. I thought she was going to spoil things by inviting herself along, but her common sense caught her before she made the suggestion. After all, any sensitive person would spot her interest in David from ten paces, and he hinted that the friends he was going to see were very sensitive chaps indeed.

  So she fumed and sulked in silence, then grandly announced that she was going to have an early night herself, and as there was only Leo and I as well as her in the room, I presumed the declaration was for my benefit. It was no life for a rich, young woman, and she should have realised it herself. It was no life for me, no life for her, and half a life for Leo. Pretty grim times if a girl didn’t have her little diversions now and then.

  I sat back into one of the old high-backed chairs, and selected a magazine. I amused myself by reading out the good bits to the invalid and, if he didn’t seem enthusiastic, he didn’t seem distressed either. I expect he thought that I would entertain him properly before he went to sleep.

  How right he was.

  It had been about an hour and a half since the others had left, and Leo was looking distinctly sleepy, when I heard the window behind me sliding up. Though I was expecting it, the sound gave me a start, and I had to pretend to have only been shaking myself awake. I heard the stealthy sounds of clothing whispering over wood, and felt the hairs rise on the back of my neck. Though the room was warm, my arms were suddenly covered in goose bumps, and the top of my head was tingling. I looked up at Leo, and his eyes were bugging out of his head. He was blinking furiously, and his face was as red as a beetroot. I knew what he was seeing, and I had to force myself to act oblivious to the rather clumsy burglar who was stealing up behind my chair.

  ‘Keep still,’ came the muffled voice behind me, and I started, quite genuinely, at its nearness. I gripped the sides of the chair as a figure, dressed from head to foot in black, came around the left arm of my seat. It had a full balaclava, with only a slit for the eyes, and black leather gloves which were flexing shiny-knuckled over the large hands that worked nervously by the burglar’s sides.

  ‘Who are you?’ I asked, rather stupidly, as if he was going to tell me. I bet the same thought ran through his mind, as he did not speak for a few moments.

  ‘Shut up, and sit still,’ came the rough reply, and I stiffened in outrage at the peremptory tone.

  ‘How dare you come in here like that?’ I protested, and the figure leaned hugely over me. A leather claw gripped me by the jaw and squeezed my face until my lips pouched in a ridiculous fish’s pout.

  ‘I told you to be quiet. Now shut up!’ hissed the figure, in that odd muffled voice, then released my face with a shove that made my head bounce off the cushioned, leather back of the sofa. It was so realistic that I felt no difficulty in acting quite frightened by the menacing tone and actions. I sat there mute, while the figure studied me, and the bright blue eyes that glared through the black woollen slit had a curious look of satisfaction in them that made me wonder how he felt seeing me obey so docilely. He moved towards the bed, and I was forced to protest.

  ‘Leave him alone,’ I cried. ‘He’s not well.’

  It was such a silly thing to say, but it was all I could think of in the heat of the moment. The figure swivelled, and after a moment of thought, advanced slowly towards me.

  I shuffled back until my knees were struck from behind by the chair I had just sprang up from, but the figure still flowed slowly towards me.

  ‘And what are you going to do about it if I don’t leave him alone?’ was the sneering reply to my plea.

  ‘I’m just a woman. I can’t stop you from doing anything you really want to,’ was the only answer I could give.

  The figure was now only inches away from me, and the sheer size of him dwarfed me, though I am not a small woman, and he could have overpowered me easily: but there was only the implication of violence as yet.

  ‘Yes, you could,’ said the burglar. ‘You could stop me very easily, if you wanted to.’

  ‘I could scream,’ I suggested breathlessly.

  ‘But it wouldn’t do you any good, as there’s no one here but us, is there?’ he said, and I swallowed nervously, and nodded.

  My eyes darted over to where Leo was watching all this with an interest that wasn’t entirely healthy. Perhaps he had an inkling of what the burglar wanted, or perhaps he would have treated me this way in other circumstances. My erstwhile sympathy was severely strained by this insight, and my resolve was strengthened by it. My hands crept back to the chair arms, as I began to portray the embattled heroine to the full. I was wearing a light print dress that buttoned down its front like a twenties frock, and I was acutely aware of the straining of my breasts against the thin covering as my breathing heaved them up and out. My legs shook a little as I said, ‘I’ll do anything you want, but please don’t hurt my husband.’

  The burglar chuckled, and reached up to stroke my unbound, curly hair. I turned my face quickly away, but he caught a handful of the long, brown locks and turned my head back, by main force, to face him. I stared defiantly into the bright blue eyes.

  ‘I don’t get an offer like that from pretty girls every day of the week. What’s your name?’

  ‘Jessica,’ I said, reluctantly.

  ‘Well, now, Jessica,’ he said, and his gloved hand tightened in my hair, ‘let’s see what you will do for me.’

  He turned me face about by cruelly twisting at the braid of hair, and I was forced to grasp the arms of the chair to keep myself from falling. My knees had lost their strength, and they nearly buckled as I fought to steady myself. Without warning, he released his hold, and I was left bent forwards, with my legs well spaced to brace me. It was an unfortunate posture to have adopted under the circumstances, as it thrust my rear out towards him, and thrust my black-stockinged, high-heeled legs into relief.

  ‘Well, you look very nice, just like that,’ he sneered, and his voice was mottled with arousal. ‘If you just reach back and lift up your dress, it will be even better, Jessica.’

  I hesitated, trying to think what I should say, but all I could do was look at Leo, and the bright interest in his eyes as he watched me prepare to be humiliated on his behalf. One hand crept shakily back and gripped the light, flapping hem of my dress. I inched the thing slowly upwards, until the lower edges of my bottom-cheeks were bare.

  ‘That’s it! You are a fast learner, Jessica. Looks like you know what to do,’ rasped the intruder’s thick voice.

  ‘I hate you,’ I hissed, as I pulled the dress up on to my back, so that most of my bottom was uncovered. The thin, white knickers I habitually wore had worked up into the crack, and sat unevenly over my plump cheeks.

  ‘That’s nice, Jessica. I like a woman who wears stockings. I bet your old man likes it too, eh?’ came the muffled voice, as I reached as far up my back as the arm could go. ‘Now sit astride the chair, there’s a good little girl.’

  God, he was so patronising.

  I shuffled awkwardly forwards, and hooked one stockinged knee over one arm of the chair. It was extremely difficult to get the other astride with one hand behind my back, but the burglar just seemed to enjoy my discomfort all the more.

  ‘I’ve heard that you posh bits of stuff like it rough. Is that true?’ he asked, as I settled astride the hard wooden arms of the old chair.

  My cheeks were totally parted, and my bush felt terribly vulnerable, so there was a quaver in my voice when I answered. ‘I wouldn’t know, I’m sure.’

  He copied my voice and words mockingly. ‘I wouldn’t know, I’m sure. Fuck, you are a tasty piece and I’m fucking sure of that.’

  I heard him coming closer, and I turned my face towards Leo, so that I could see if he was enjoying this as much as I was. I cocked my hips back so that my already opened buttocks were even more exposed. The intruder leaned down to whisper into my ear, but still loud enough for Leo to hear in the deathly stillness of the room.

  ‘I thin
k you need your bottom smacked, Jessica! What do you think of that?’ rasped the man in his coarse way; then he turned towards Leo and said loudly, ‘I think your wife needs a few smacks on her pretty arse, mate. What do you think?’

  He gripped one of my full buttocks in his right hand and shook it so that it wobbled loosely. The movement opened the lips of my sex a little, and I felt a leak of moist arousal slip from the furry slit.

  ‘He don’t say a lot, does he? I think he approves,’ said the man in black, with a short, hard laugh. Then he started to slap my open, wobbling bottom-cheeks with his leather-covered hand. It was intensely humiliating, and arousing. I loved the way my cheeks shuddered unashamedly under the short, brittle taps of his big hand. It didn’t sting as much as I had thought, or not too much at first, but my bottom soon warmed up until the sensation began to cause me a little discomfort.

  ‘You’re hurting me,’ I complained, but the man kept slapping my juddering, parted cheeks until I was turning my face hotly against the steaming leather back of the armchair. Then he stopped, and rudely ran his fingers up my open, panty-covered cleft.

  ‘She’s got a right juicy little cunt, your missus,’ he shouted to Leo, and I squirmed my tingling cheeks secretively against his hand. He responded by crooking a finger into the damp material that covered my aching slit, and pushing it a little into the wetness within my parted lips. Then he withdrew the finger, gave me a quick, hard slap, and told me to get up and take my pants off. I was slow to oblige, as my hip joints were protesting at the way they had been arranged over the chair’s arms. The dress slipped back over my reddened, stinging cheeks, and I made a grab for the hem.

  ‘There’s no need, love,’ said the man. ‘You might as well take it off altogether.’