by Monica Belle
We had all the necessary passes but their security guys were fanatical, checking and double-checking our identity and then making us wait for what seemed like an age with armed men standing to either side of the van. Finally we were cleared to go in, and parked the van in an open area to one side of the gates, where it was unloaded and given a second more thorough check.
For all their vigilance they were extremely friendly, joking with us, flirting and tripping over each other to help us with our kit. After Stephen’s attitude that was just what I needed, and I found myself responding, cheeking them back and being deliberately bossy as they carried everything into what I at first thought was an aircraft hangar.
It wasn’t, just a mess of sorts set aside for entertainment, with ranks of chairs already out and an impromptu stage at one end. We began to set up, searching out power sockets and making sure everything worked, with half a dozen Americans helping us and wolf-whistling every time one of us bent over or did anything to show a little leg. Sam’s boyfriend was there, a lanky corporal who was soon in earnest conversation with Steve as they set up a makeshift bar at the far end of the room.
I was already feeling high when we began to practise, and a bit drunk. There seemed to be an infinite supply of beer and plenty of people willing to press bottles into my hands. I prefer playing drunk, if not completely plastered, because that way the beat of all the songs I know comes by instinct and I don’t even have to think about what I’m doing. It gives me a better high too and just makes it all work.
Sam had made Josie promise not to play anything anti-American, but I don’t think it would have mattered if we’d put three chairs together and played pattacake. They loved us, clapping and yelling for more even while we were practising, and the room was packed long before we were due to start. I was in my element, lapping up the attention and showing off as I played, and I already decided my top was coming off, not at the end the way I usually did, but early on so I’d have to play the rest of the gig topless and drive them absolutely nuts.
Just knowing I was going to do it felt good, and when Josie called for ‘God Save the Queen’ I really threw myself into it. Of course it’s the one everybody recognises, and they lapped it up, yelling and stamping and calling for more, especially when I stood up to salute at the end. We gave them some Fat Lip, then Ever Fallen in Love as loud as we could play. That was enough for me. The entire crowd whistled and catcalled, obviously far more into us than the music, and as Josie picked out the opening bar for our own title song I stood up and stripped off my top in full view of maybe two hundred cheering Americans.
They went wild, yelling for more, and I stayed on my feet, letting all of them see. I was struggling to play properly, but I didn’t care, and that’s pure punk, noise and show and being rude for the sake of it. If all two hundred of them had stormed the stage and just had me then and there I’d have gone for it, and I was already determined that I’d be getting mine before the night was through.
Somebody had pushed a beer close to me from behind the stage and as the song finished I picked it up, lifting it to my lips to let the chilly liquid slide down my throat, then higher, to pour the full contents out over my face and down my chest, to run down my tummy and drip from my stiff nipples as I posed with my hands behind my head and my chest thrust out, making a deliberate show of myself. Immediately more beers had been thrust towards us and I did the same again, this time shaking my wet tits to spatter the stage with droplets. Sam was no better, her thin cotton top plastered to her chest to leave her nipples showing through. As more yells of approval went up she’d tugged up the front of her skirt and pressed the bottle she was holding to her knickers, rubbing it slowly and provocatively up and down to send the audience into a screaming frenzy.
I thought they’d stop it, because somebody, surely, had to object to our behaviour, but I didn’t care. The worst they could do was throw us off the base, and except for one thing that would be a triumph. That one thing was that I wouldn’t get the stiff fucking I so badly needed, and as Josie called out the next song I was praying the authorities would hold off long enough for me to get taken care of.
Billy had come up on stage, singing the words to ‘Homicide’ with Sam, and I knew the whole thing was going to fall to pieces anyway. Sure enough, they ended up snogging to the delight of the rest of the audience and, as another beer was pushed my way, I saw that my provider was a big young man with the blackest skin I’d ever seen and a come-on smile, which was all the encouragement I needed.
I abandoned the drums and came down into his arms, kissing him immediately. He slid a hand under my bottom, so strong he lifted me bodily down from the stage with one arm. I clung on, wriggling myself against him where I could feel the bulge of his cock through his trousers and a moment later I’d been taken in behind the drapes and turned with my back to the wall.
He was still supporting me under my bum, his smallest finger pushed in between my cheeks to tickle my anus. I managed to call him a dirty pig as he went inside, but that didn’t stop him and I didn’t want it to. He began to wriggle his finger about as he freed his cock, hot and hard between my open thighs as I wrapped my legs around his powerful body. My knickers were pulled aside, two firm thrusts and he was inside me, fucking me with my body pushed against the wall as I clung onto him, kissing in furious passion and wriggling myself onto his cock and his finger too.
I never even realised anything was wrong until the last moment, when I’d just managed to tell him not to come in me. He’d whipped his cock out, pushing me down so quickly I ended up sat sprawled on the floor with my legs apart even as he fed his erection into my mouth. I could taste myself, and I took his balls in my hand as I started to suck, eager for what he had to give me, and to come myself while he was still in my mouth. He was too quick, thrusting himself deep before I could even get my hand down my knickers, and I was forced to swallow as best I could as he came in my mouth.
By then I’d realised we were being watched, with several grinning faces peering around either end of the curtains. I really thought they were going to take turns with me, maybe bend me over the back of the stage and fuck me from behind while I kept the next one warm in my mouth. Unfortunately they seemed to have decided that the big black guy had taken charge of me, and he was the same, helping me tidy up and pushing yet another beer into my hand.
The gig was plainly over, and despite wanting to come I contented myself with sitting on my lover’s lap, still topless and with his hand up my skirt, the centre of a ring of men. It felt particularly good to be near nude when all of them were in full uniform, and I didn’t mind being fondled at all. If anything I’d have been ready for more, but before Martin, my black airman, was ready some bunch of pushy types arrived to announce that it was time to go home.
I felt frustrated but there was nothing to be done, with the lights up and no chance for more than a quick grope and an exchange of mobile numbers before we were being hustled off the base. It had been good and I was telling myself I should be content, but I hadn’t come, and I wasn’t. There was only one thing for it. As soon as we’d dropped Josie and Sam off I told Steve I needed him and that he could have what he liked in return. I got masturbated, brought off under his fingers as I sucked lovingly on his cock, thinking of how easily Martin had handled me and trying not to wish it had been Stephen English.
5
I KNOW WOMEN are supposed to be romantic creatures who fall deeply in love with one man and reject all others with a haughty sniff, or at least with one man at a time, but it really is bollocks. Maybe my day will come, although I’ve had some pretty intense relationships as a teenager and it’s never once stopped me being rude with Steve, or indulging myself when I know it’s not going to get back to the boyfriend. If that makes me a bad girl or a slut or whatever, then fair enough, but men are no better and I refuse to accept that the rules are different depending on which sex you are.
I’d enjoyed Martin, and I wouldn’t have missed the fucking he
’d given me for the world, while not getting it quite perfect had only left me eager for more. It had also left me feeling a great deal better about myself, because his desire for me had been so strong. That didn’t change my feelings for Stephen at all, except to give me renewed confidence and determination to either find out if he was gay or work it so that he got me into the sack, or up against the wall, or over his desk at the office, according to circumstance.
A good deal of Sunday was spent washing my hair out so that I’d be able to be Miss Felicity Cotton again on the Monday morning. Steve was around too, for lunch, teasing me about how eager I’d been the night before and eventually cajoling me into a blow job before he went home. It was risky, with him sitting on my bed as I knelt between his legs and the door shut but not locked, which had my heart hammering at the possibility of Mum walking in on us.
Monday morning I was back in my work clothes and thoroughly respectable, walking through town to work with all the other busy bees. Stephen was already there, and I was immediately told to make coffee, which seemed to be a bit of a power trip for him. He asked about my weekend in a perfectly casual way, but I couldn’t resist a little test to see if I could get any interest out of him, one way or another.
‘It was fun, thanks. I went out to the big American airbase at Hockwold.’
‘Did you? I’m surprised they let anybody in.’
‘We had passes. One of my friends’ boyfriend is stationed there. In fact it’s full of good-looking young men.’
He chuckled.
‘Anyone special?’
‘Sort of. I met someone, Martin. Not that it’s serious.’
‘An officer, I trust?’
‘No.’
His eyebrows rose slightly.
‘Not an officer? Tut, tut, Felicity, that will never do.’
He was joking, but it was the most bizarre reaction, neither the jealousy I might have expected if he’d been interested in me, nor the sort of response he might have given if he’d been gay, but a peculiar and unexpected snobbery. I couldn’t help but be defensive.
‘He’s very nice.’
‘I’m sure he is. Now, we have a representative from the local police coming over this morning, so you’re to be on best behaviour.’
‘I’ll be sure to be, Mr English.’
His words had sent a little involuntary shiver through me, as had my response, which had come out before I could stop myself, leaving me feeling excited and ashamed of myself as usual. I was even half hoping he might apply his hand to my bottom as I turned from his desk, but he restrained himself.
The rest of the morning was busy, first with the policeman, who had an endless string of questions and wanted to examine the entire system in detail, then with the owner of one of the other industrial units on the estate, who was considering protection for his premises. Shortly before twelve o’clock, I answered the phone to Mr Phelps. He had called to give the go-ahead for the pilot scheme and had quickly agreed to the installation of a system along the river path subject to plans being submitted.
There was an immediate frenzy of activity, Paul dealing with what technical details remained while Stephen had me ringing around to find a company who could supply techies to help with surveillance at the council offices. By the time I’d succeeded Stephen had the full plans printed out, a detailed map of the river path showing where each camera would be placed. It was on the computer as well, and once he’d gone to show it to Mr Phelps and the others at the council offices I was left to examine it.
They were going to have the entire length of the path covered, from the edge of Grim’s Fen to Sariton, about five miles in all. It was sneaky too. The larger, highest quality cameras were to be mounted in obvious places, set on poles or walls, where they could record people’s faces, but the smaller, simpler ones were hidden and it was those that would catch anybody up to no good. Everybody would get recorded, even those merely passing by, but they wouldn’t know it. Then, when they thought they were safe to indulge in whatever skulduggery took their fancy, they’d be caught and recognised by one of the hidden cameras. The only thing the police and council would need would be the names of the local scallies, most of which they had.
It was a huge file, much too big for a floppy, so I burnt it onto CD, all the while with my heart in my mouth and praying Stephen wouldn’t return unexpectedly or Paul emerge from the back. Neither did, and I’d soon slipped the CD into my jacket pocket, feeling both guilty and triumphant. Nicking it was crucial to my plan, and the least scary part of it.
I’d barely sorted myself out when my phone went, which made me jump. It was Martin, who was off duty in the evening and wanted to see me. I agreed, accepting his suggestion of the Blue Boar, which I knew was popular with American servicemen. It was also easiest to reach by following the river path, which I wanted to do in order to get a look at it before the cameras went up.
Stephen didn’t get back until very nearly five and needed me to sort out various bits of paperwork he’d picked up at the council offices, so it was half an hour after my normal knocking-off time that I found myself outside the unit, wondering if I had time to change before meeting Martin. He was going to get a shock anyway, so I decided against it and walked straight up to the river.
It was a beautiful evening, very warm and still, with the water barely moving and everything sleepy. Any painter would have loved it, and was a place I’d known since childhood, but it now seemed sinister and I continually found myself glancing from side to side, trying to work out where the cameras were likely to be installed and who they might catch. For a start there was the graffiti under Town Bridge, which always got moaned about but was more colourful than anything. They’d catch the younger boys that way, landing them with criminal records before they’d had a chance to grow up. Then there was the long stretch beside Foulds’ sawmill where the elderberry bushes pushed out and made ideal places for snogging. I could clearly remember the thrill as I let Ed Gorton slip a hand down the front of my knickers and put a finger inside me for the first time in my life, and a dozen other incidents, most of them a lot steamier. All of that would be gone, leaving the world a greyer, duller place.
We’d never hurt anybody, beyond shocking the occasional old granny, perhaps, and just about everybody I knew had got up to something at one time or another, but I didn’t know anyone who’d had a nasty experience. Perhaps in a city, it might have been a dangerous place, but not in Hockford. The only really nasty things I knew about had all happened behind closed doors.
It was hard to shake my mood as I walked on, despite the beautiful weather and the prospect of seeing Martin. Everywhere I looked brought back memories, and while I had to admit that I’d been a right little brat as a child and a bad girl among bad girls as a teenager, I still felt a sense of injustice. Only when I got to the Blue Boar did I brighten up at the sight of Martin sitting outside, a bottle of beer in one hand and his face painted in a big, sloppy grin.
‘You look different.’
‘Work clothes, I’m afraid, sorry.’
‘That’s OK. What are you drinking?’
‘A vodka mix, lime if they’ve got it.’
‘Coming right up.’
He disappeared into the pub, allowing me to admire the breadth of his shoulders and the easy power of his walk. I remembered how casually he’d lifted me, with just one hand curled under my bum as if I weighed nothing at all, and how dirty he’d been with me. I like men to be that way, to get a real kick out of me and not be embarrassed about it, and he’d done it beautifully, not even caring that other people were watching.
By the time he came back with the drinks I’d already decided that I wanted him again, and where. I let him talk for a while, content to listen as he described his home in Arizona, showing a touch of homesickness. He wouldn’t let me buy the next round, which I accepted as a gesture of masculine pride. We ate there too, steaks topped with sauce and big fat chips before he bought me a huge chocolate dessert that left me feelin
g pretty full. I was more than a little drunk too, while the day was fading to a warm twilight.
I suggested we walk, taking his arm and steering him towards the river path. He didn’t push, perhaps because he knew I’d be willing, and it was left to me to choose the time and the place, at the back of Foulds’, the same place I’d first allowed a man to enter my body, only this time much more of a man, and much more in the way of entry.
He was wonderfully big, his cock full and meaty first in my hand and then in my mouth as I went down on him among the bushes. I was determined to get my own climax this time, but to fully enjoy him as well, and spent an age just paying court to his cock and balls with my lips and tongue and mouth, until his breathing had begun to grow deep and his fingers were tangled in my hair to hold me in place.
I’d been going to take him all the way, and play with myself while I did it, but I’d no sooner eased my work skirt up than he’d taken me under my arms, lifting me without appreciable effort and, as before, holding me under my bum while he pulled my knickers aside and slid me down onto him. I clung on, our mouths open together as he fucked me, both hands now on my bottom, holding me wide to the night with one fingertip tickling the tight little hole between my cheeks.
We were well in between two bushes, in deep gloom, but anyone who came by and peered in was going to get a full view of my open bottom with his cock moving inside me as he lifted me up and down. That alone felt wonderful, helping my excitement rise higher as I wriggled myself onto him and begged him to pump me faster and harder between passionate kisses. He obliged, and I’d been reduced to panting breathlessness a second later, only to be lifted free once more and set back down on the ground.
He just manipulated me, so strong I barely had time to react as I was spun around and bent over, now with my bottom pushed out to him. I just had time to brace myself against the wall before my knickers had been pulled down and his cock eased back inside me, now from behind with the hard muscle of his belly pushed to my cheeks as he began to fuck me. Again he was hard, setting me gasping and clutching at the rough brick of the wall, and again his massive hands were on my bottom, holding me and spreading me wide.
