Betwixt Natasha

by E V Daymuir

  Lucinda raised a beautifully shaped eyebrow at the outburst and moved her lower hand to his testicles which she gently massaged as she teased the head. ‘If I know anything about cocks Barrie, and believe me, I know a great deal; what you want doesn’t count; not one little jot; cocks have minds of their own.’

  Natasha groaned to herself. She knew from her experience in Barrie’s body over the past few days just how true that was, but she was determined to put up a fight. ‘You did say we could discuss the Dynamic situation sensibly?’

  Lucinda looked into Barrie’s eyes and ran her tongue suggestively along her upper lip. Natasha imagined it flicking and curling around the head of Barrie’s cock and the shudder of anticipated pleasure did not go unnoticed. ‘Let’s not waste time Barrie. I’ll give you everything you want – afterwards. I’ve listed all the names and sales we’ve made on a disc. All we need to do is agree a royalty percentage for Travel Plan.’

  Natasha wanted to ask what she had in mind, but the words were smothered by her succulent lips. Natasha tried to resist, but there was something animal in Lucinda Lovebrace which stirred the animal in Barrie, a force she was at a loss to control. Barrie’s hands moved directly onto her buttocks and pulled her hard against his aching penis. She gasped; partly in surprise, but mostly in pleasure. Her tongue probed Barrie’s mouth and Natasha responded by sucking it and flicking it with Barrie’s tongue. She uttered a breathless, ‘come on‘, and tugged him into the bedroom where seductive lighting gave her skin a golden glow as she slipped the white coat from her shoulders.

  It was only when they were both naked, that Natasha became aware of the mirrors. Wherever she looked there was the reflected image of Lucinda Lovebrace kneeling with Barrie’s cock in her mouth. Natasha found it incredibly exciting, more so than when Barrie had used her own mouth. Had he received a blow job from her before? If he had, he certainly didn’t learn from it. Her tongue flicked lightly over the head before she took it into her mouth again. Her sharp teeth nibbled then raked up and down the shaft. God, Barrie was about to come. She did nothing to resist, his hips were out of control, but she brought it to the brink and then, expertly backed off. Her tongue swirled along the shaft to lick his testicles. She felt a hand pushing Barrie’s ‘old boy’ to one side and looked down to see her big brown eyes gazing up at her. She felt her warm breath bathe over them as she spoke. ‘Does Natasha give a good blow job?’

  Natasha reflected on the shower experience on the first morning in Barrie’s body. Based on that she could have said yes, but chose to tell the truth. ‘Natasha’s not into blow jobs.’

  ‘She prefers to have your magnificent cock inside her does she?’ She gave a wicked grin before flicking her tongue from side to side as it slowly travelled up the shaft. Natasha could hear Barrie groaning, almost whimpering with pleasure, but knew she was responsible. Then, somehow, despite the waves of pleasure, she had a coherent thought – how did she know her name was Natasha? The eyes laughed at her when she asked the question. She nibbled at the tip of his penis before answering.

  ‘You told me, don’t you remember? When I handed you the photograph? You told me her name. How do you think I managed to hack into the data base?’

  She was mocking his stupidity which made Natasha angry. Would he have reacted as violently? Would he have felt the same loathing she felt on finding herself in bed with Lucinda Lovebrace who convulsed into a shuddering climax almost as soon as Barrie’s cock entered her. Now she had her ankles wrapped around him, digging into his backside, urging deeper penetration. Natasha thrust furiously with an equal measure of lust and hate, but nothing was enough for Lucinda Lovebrace; she screamed for more, clawing his back with her long finger nails and sinking her teeth into his shoulder. She implored him to tug on her nipples. Natasha used Barrie’s strong fingers roughly, tweaking, pulling and she loved it. She was having orgasm after orgasm, begging for more. Barrie’s big hands massaged her magnificent breasts spreading the flow of juices from her nipples. Still she wanted more, pleading with a look of sheer desperation as her convulsions started again, then relaxed into a wonderful smile as she experienced yet another release. She urged him to greater efforts.

  ‘You can make this the best fuck ever Barrie. This is the ultimate. I can feel it. I know it. Fuck me – fuck me hard. Harder – Oh God please – Harder!’

  Natasha thrust into her in a frenzy. She could feel Barrie was about to come and she wanted to bury his enormous penis deep into her. His hands slipped off the wet breasts onto her shoulders. She was screaming ’Yes! Yes! Yes! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!’ Natasha had no intention of stopping, not until Barrie was sated. Everything became an erotic blur. Barrie panting and groaning. Her ecstatic screams. Then – it was over. Her body limp. Eyes staring; teeth bared in a ghastly smile.

  A horrified Natasha slowly released Barrie’s hands from around her throat.

  *****

  In a leafy suburb, south of Birmingham, Lucy’s Mercedes was parked in the driveway of a modernised 1930’s semi. In the back bedroom, Suzy moaned softly as Julie gently tugged at her clitoris with exploring lips. She would never subject her to the frantic rubbing which drove Lucy crazy. Suzy was always on a slow burn, moving deliciously beneath her administrations. She began to breathe harder as she reached her first climax, her hips lifting to push her sex hard against Julie’s face. As she sunk back again, Julie followed her running her tongue slowly up and down her inner labia and then gently probing into her vagina. Her second climax built quickly. She squealed and moaned squirming against Julie’s penetrating tongue. As her shuddering diminished, Julie moved her hands around the outside of her thighs and up to her breasts. They were small and pert, with nipples enormously out of proportion when erect. Julie rolled them gently between her fingers as she rolled her tongue around inside her. As her hips lifted again, Julie slid her hands quickly down her waist and under her buttocks. Now she was completely at her mercy. She sucked her throbbing clitoris into her mouth. Suzy gasped. ’No Julie, please, no more; you’re driving me crazy.’ On a high from Suzy’s frantic reactions Julie took it as signal to continue. Her unrelenting tongue flickered around the base of Suzy’s engorged clitoris until, with squeals of delight; she shuddered into yet another nerve twitching climax. Julie was tempted to go on but relented as a breathless Suzy pleaded for mercy. She moved up beside her, kissing and sucking at her pale flesh, pausing to give special attention those small, but shapely breasts before fastening onto her full lips. Suzy returned her kisses, gently at first, then with more fervour, her tongue probing until she rolled on top and squirmed her way down to work her magic on Julie.

  The bedside lamp which had cast a warm glow for their love making was still on. Suzy had brought her to an incredibly satisfying climax. Julie looked at her as she slept and felt that wonderful flickering pulse return between her legs. They would make love again and again, but perhaps not tonight. She had an overwhelming need to drive back to Hamsworth and tell Lucy she had fallen in love and could no longer continue with their relationship, physical and business.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

  Detective Inspector Ian Cardhew kept a wary eye on the saucepan as he put bread in the toaster. The eggs had been placed in cold water and as soon as it came to the boil, he would give them exactly two minutes. His mother liked her boiled eggs on the hard side of soft.

  The house he had grown up in had been substantially altered since he married and moved away eighteen years ago. An extension on the back provided another bedroom and quadrupled the size of the kitchen, which now incorporated a dining area. He laid for two on the table, deliberately avoiding the place usually occupied by his father. Burying him yesterday had been a sad business. There had been some jollity at the wake, as was usually the case, but now his mother had to face the reality of life on her own. He was staying with her for the weekend, hoping to persuade her not to be too hasty. She wanted to sell the house and move to Hamsworth, which was not a good idea. All her friends lived in,
or close, to Ruislip and if she moved to Hamsworth she would be relying on him for company and his job demanded long, irregular hours. Apart from that, he had been thinking of applying for a move. Nothing much happened in Hamsworth and although he liked that when he first arrived from the Met, now he wanted more action. You could only investigate so many stolen tractor cases without losing your edge.

  The first bubble broke the surface. He glanced at his watch and turned the gas down to maintain a steady boil. He looked at the framed photographs on the sideboard, one of the few pieces of furniture to have survived the 1990’s modernisation programme, pursued with his mother’s usual vigour. His father had been more pragmatic, a trait which probably saved the sideboard and made him such a good copper. He picked up the small photograph of him in uniform. He would have been about his age when the picture was taken, proudly wearing sergeant stripes. He never progress any further, refusing to take exams which his superiors urged him to take and he could easily have passed. The truth was he was happy with his lot and got a great deal of satisfaction in helping young constables who came through his station. He had the happy knack of being able to spot talent. The chapel at the crematorium was packed to overflowing with people who had benefited from his helping hand; many of them high ranking officers.

  He looked at his watch. Fifteen seconds to go. He put the picture down, walked over to the gas cooker and stood over the boiling pan. As the second hand swept up to the two minute mark, he took the pan off the heat and ran cold water into it to halt the cooking process. As he took the eggs to the table, the toast popped up and his mother walked into the kitchen.

  ‘Perfect timing mum.’

  His mother smiled. Yesterday she had looked drawn and tired. Now, with the ordeal of the funeral over, she looked young for her 64 years. He put the hot toast in the basket, covering it with a cotton napkin.

  ‘Thank you Ian. It’s good of you to stay on, but you won’t talk me out of selling this house you know.’

  Ian gave her a rueful smile. ‘I never really supposed I would, I’m just hoping to persuade you to not to rush into something you could regret later.

  ‘Which means not selling up?’

  ‘No. It means not selling until you’re sure. Most of your friends are in this area. Moving to Hamsworth would mean not seeing them, and I’m not sure I want to spend the rest of my time in the force at Hamsworth.

  ‘It’s time you married again and put down some roots.’

  ‘Yes mum. Good idea, but just one snag. I’ve yet to find the right person.’

  ‘Dad thought Sally was right for you.’

  ‘So did I, but she couldn’t hack being married to a copper.

  ‘I never had that problem with your father.’

  ‘Dad was always uniform mum. He worked shifts; you always knew when he would be home.’

  A silence settle between them as his mother tapped the top of her first egg and carefully removed enough shell to dip a teaspoon in. He sliced the top of his with a knife, before pouring her a coffee. They both liked it black. At least they had that in common.

  The telephone rang. She held put a hand up to indicate he should stay where he was and went into the living room. A few seconds later she returned with the phone.

  ‘It’s Hamsworth police.’

  He took the phone, walked over to the French windows and looked out into the garden. ‘Hi Jennie, what’s the problem?’

  His mother studied his body language as he spoke and picked up on the gist of the conversation. There was a suspected murder and the woman thought he should visit the scene of the crime before they removed the body. He obviously trusted her as he immediately agreed, telling her that she should keep Kimberley out of it. Then he assured her that she had done the right thing in phoning his mother’s number. He would leave right away. He switched off the phone. ‘Sorry about that, but my mobile was switched off from yesterday.’

  ‘Finish your breakfast before you go Ian.’ There was no hint of disappointment although he knew she had been hoping he would stay another night.

  He sat down and buttered a piece of toast. ‘Sorry mum, the one weekend I’m away and we have a suspected murder.’

  ‘It’s your work dear. Your father was always proud of the way you went about it. But tell me, who is Jennie? She sounds very nice.’

  ‘She’s on my team – Detective Constable.’

  ‘Are you on first name terms with all the people on your team?’

  He smiled at her, knowing full well where she was coming from. ‘Not all, but I treat the best of them as equals, outside work.’

  She shuffled forward in her seat. ‘So what is she like?’

  He laughed. ‘You’re barking up the wrong tree mum. Jennie Leadbetter is very bright and very attractive. She is also twelve years younger than me.’

  ‘Not married then?’

  ‘No, but I think she was in a long term relationship when she was a teacher.’

  ‘What did she teach?’

  ‘Physical Education and Biology.’

  ‘You seem to know a great deal about her. You obviously fancy her.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘You pulled your stomach in when you talked to her.’

  ‘I don’t have a stomach.’

  ‘Yes you do. You’re getting a paunch; if you don’t do something about it, no self respecting girl will look at you. Don’t worry about clearing the table, I can manage, you mustn’t keep Jennie waiting.’

  He laughed. ‘Mum, you’re barking up the wrong tree. I told you.’

  ‘Yes, and I know you fancy that girl, so do something about it.’

  ‘I’m too old for her, she’d never be interested in me. Besides, I would never make a pass at someone who works for me.’

  His mother got up and collected the plates. ‘In that case, you’ll either have to encourage her to go back to teaching, or hope she makes a pass at you.’

  Ian Cardhew's mother waved goodbye as he drove off but before the car had turned out onto the main road, she had dialled 1471, connecting back to the last call.

  ‘Hello, is that Jennie? This is Mary, Ian’s mother. He has just left: Now dear, don’t tell him I called but there’s something you should know…’

  *****

  Peter Bunford was propped up in bed with a mug of tea. What a night! When they left the hospital, they took a taxi back to his house; as expected, Julie was not there. He collected a few clothes and toiletries and the taxi took them on to Lydia’s place. It was a two bedroom flat, in a block built on the old cinema site, close to the town centre. Peter could remember them being built and thinking how out of place they looked, but after eight years, the modern design had somehow blended in. Her flat was on the top floor, the fifth. They took the lift, dropped off his bag and set off for something to eat. They settled on a small bistro which was dimly lit and quiet. They had both seen the pictures in the evening paper and the last thing they wanted was to be recognised.

  When they returned to the flat, she helped him take off his shirt and put on the pyjama jacket. Then she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers. Everything was under control until she stooped to pull them off. His erection was immediate and unmistakeable, although she chose to ignore it, folding his trousers and carefully putting them on a hanger with his shirt. As she opened a wardrobe he managed to hook the thumbs of his bandaged hands over the waistband of his underpants and pull them off. Willing his erection to go away, he turned towards the head of the bed. She was moving around by the wardrobe for sometime, but his erection stayed solid. He felt her hand rest on his shoulder and give it an affectionate rub. ‘Shall we put these back in your bag?’ He put his hands down to cover his recalcitrant member and turned to face her. It was the first time he had seen her without glasses – and without any clothes on. She moved in close and he put his arms around her.

  As he took another sip of tea, Lydia came back into the bedroom, wearing a long lime green dressing gown and her glasses;
no longer the insatiable sex kitten of last night.

  ‘Have you finished Pete?’

  He drained the cup. She took it and put it on the dressing table over by the curtained window, shrugged off the dressing gown, took off her glasses and snuggled under the duvet.

  ‘Now where were we?’ She unbuttoned the pyjama top and slithered up to give him a long lingering kiss. Then he felt her breasts brushing his chest as she eased down onto his extreme erection. He recalled the look of sheer joy on her face as she achieved full penetration the previous evening and there it was again, followed by a soft moan as she gyrated her hips before lifting up to tease herself on the tip of his penis. Peter would have preferred to be on top, but they both knew that would be difficult until his hands healed. She was doing all the work and it felt fantastic. Her breasts pressed hard against his chest and he carefully wrapped his arms around her as she began slowly lifting up and down the full length of his penis. With Julie, he would have been worried about finishing quickly before she wanted to stop, but he had no such fears with Lydia, who proudly told him every time she was about to come, or shoot, as she put it. Now he knew he could hold back and increase her pleasure, although it was difficult when she started grinding her hips against him as she was now.

  ‘I’m shooting Pete. I’m shooting!’

  She sat up and looked at him as she used her legs in conjunction with her hands pressing on his chest to move her hips frantically up and down and from side to side.

  ‘Oh Pete! Oh Pete!’

  He felt her juices run down his penis and her body tremble. He waited patiently for her to start again. She was happy to go on and on and could come three or four times to his once.

  Eventually, she lay deliriously exhausted in his arms. She stroked his muscled chest and whispered. ‘You’re my man Pete; my hero.’