Addicted

by Ray Gordon

  "I can't be bothered with that. All I want is five hundred."

  "What about sex?" I asked stupidly. God, I must have been mad!

  "Sex? Are you offering me sex in exchange for..."

  "Yes, bring the photographs round and I'll..."

  "I don't want you to know who I am. I'll think about it and ring you later."

  Sex in exchange? I'd had three other men fuck me besides Tony, so one more wouldn't make any difference, I mused as I replaced the receiver. Who was he? I wondered. Where did I know that voice from? It wasn't Gary, I was certain of that, or David. If he decided to fuck me, I'd discover his identity and... and what?

  Feeling tired, mentally exhausted, I lay on the chesterfield and fell asleep, dreaming my dreams of perverted sex - dreams of cocks spunking in my mouth, fucking my cunt, my arsehole. A dreadful word, rough, crude, bitter. I was a common slut, a prostitute. I'd have to leave, run away - run away from myself.

  Chapter Seven

  I hadn't answered the phone or the doorbell for two days. I'd decided that I wasn't going to play into people's hands, submit to their demands. For a while, at least, I didn't exist in the eyes of the world. Gary could masturbate alone in his big house and keep his sperm, David wasn't going to be our gardener, Alan Walker and the blackmailer could go to hell, and Tony... I didn't know about Tony.

  The only time I'd left the house was when I'd gone into town to buy an outfit for Suzie. Red leather miniskirt, six-inch, red patent stilettos, a long black wig, a red blouse, two sizes too small... I hardly recognized myself as I looked in the full-length mirror. The transformation was incredible! Suzie the tart, the prostitute. I felt dirty, crude. How the other half live, I was living the other half.

  The morning sun hot, I slipped out of the house, making sure no one was lurking in the lane to discover Suzie's true identity. I strutted down the lane in my six-inch stilettos, Suzie strutted down the lane. I was desperate for a fix and had decided to try the common. Geoff wouldn't be there, not after Gary had frightened him off, but there was bound to be another man who'd succumb to Suzie. A stranger's balls, heavy with spunk, Suzie would suck his knob, wank him and bring out his seed.

  Suzie brought me incredible luck - serendipity. As I neared the common, I passed the postman, instantly recognising the blackmailer's voice as he said good morning and commented on the warm weather. I smiled and walked on, wondering what to do, how to handle the situation. In his early forties, he was probably married, I mused. He hadn't recognized me, which wasn't surprising in my tarty gear and black wig!

  Now I had him, or I at least knew his identity. But what to do? Confront him? Suddenly having an idea, I turned and hurried after him, my stilettos clicking tartily on the road, my short skirt riding up my naked thighs. I'd disguise my voice as best I could and try to find out where he lived.

  "Excuse me!" I called. "Can you tell me where Mrs Helen Hunter lives, please?"

  "Yes," he grinned, pointing down the lane towards my house. "It's not far, about two hundred yards. The big house with the gravel drive."

  "Thanks, I've been wandering around for ages trying to find it. I suppose you know this area well, being a postman."

  "Yes, I do - every nook and cranny. Are you a friend of Mrs Hunter's?"

  "No, she's advertised for a housekeeper, I've come to see her about the job. What's she like, do you know?"

  "A bit stuck up, keeps herself to herself. Word has it that she's an artist."

  "An artist? What does she paint?"

  "I don't know. I've only met her a couple of times."

  "I hope I get the job. I live in the centre of London; I'd far rather live out here in the countryside. Do you live far away?"

  "I have a cottage, about a mile down the lane."

  "It sounds nice; I'll bet it's called Rose Cottage or something similar."

  "The Croft, my wife named it."

  "The Croft, it conjures up a picture of... Oh, I'm sorry; I must let you get on. Thanks for the directions."

  "You're welcome."

  I walked to the common wondering what to do about the postman. Why had he crept around the back of my house? Perhaps he'd had a parcel and had been looking for me. I suddenly remembered that the letter box sometimes jammed. That would have been it; he was looking for me to give me the letters. He shouldn't have gone into the house. Bastard!

  I could go to his cottage and tell his wife that I'd been screwing him. The notion excited me, wetted my cunt. She'd look me up and down, thinking me to be a common whore, thinking her husband to be a cheating bastard. They'd argue, he'd say that he didn't know what she was talking about. I'd get the bloody postman for what he'd put me through, I swore. One day, no matter how long it took, I'd get him! Priorities, I needed sperm.

  Settling on the grass, I scanned the common for prey, for a penis. A young woman walking alone, forlorn, lost in her thinking. An old man, seventy or eighty, too old. My pussy lips naked, swelling, I slipped a finger into my hot cunt and massaged the wet, velvety walls. Cunt, I loved the word - I loved my cunt. I should have been working, not sitting on the common fingering myself. A shot of spunk, and then work. Erotic paintings, filth, make a name for myself - a filthy name.

  A young man wending his way across the common caught my eye. Twenty, twenty-five, he'd do nicely. His jeans would be tight, bulging, his balls full. Slipping my finger out of my juiced pussy, I watched him approach. My clitoris swelling, my heart racing, I was close to my fix.

  "Hi!" I called, Suzie called. He stopped and looked at me, eyeing my shapely thighs, the deep cleavage between my rounded breasts. Suddenly realizing that he worked in the village stores as he stood towering above me, I prayed that he wouldn't recognize me.

  "Hi," he smiled, sitting beside me. "I'm Ian."

  "I'm Suzie, pleased to meet you," I replied. "Do you often come here?"

  "Yes, quite often. I haven't seen you around before."

  "I'm just visiting."

  "Oh, there's my mate," he said, looking across the common. "I'd better be off; we're going fishing down at the pond."

  "Why don't you ask your friend to join us?"

  "Well, I..."

  "Go on, call him over."

  Two men, two cocks spunking, I mused as he called out to his friend. I felt elation, arousal, degradation. This was a mistake, I knew, as I moved behind the bushes. Ian followed me as his friend approached, probably realizing what my game was. Dangerous games, dangerous consequences. But I was Suzie, Suzie the prostitute, the common slut. Helen was safe. His friend joined us, sitting by my side and eyeing my inner thighs as I parted my legs slightly.

  "This is Joe," Ian said.

  "Hi, I'm Suzie." What to say? How to seduce them? "God, it's hot today!" I remarked, reclining on the grass, my body outstretched, my thighs parted - seductive, alluring.

  Unbuttoning my blouse, I exposed my braless breasts, my darkening areolae, my erect nipples. I didn't need words, words of seduction, my body spoke for me as I tugged my skirt up over my stomach, revealing my hairless pussy lips, my drenched sex crack. Closing my eyes as fingers probed between my thighs, I again realized the power of my body, my cunt. I could have any man I wanted, except Stephen Giles, that was! Could I have any woman? Lydia the lesbian.

  "God, you're a horny little tart!" Ian chuckled as a finger entered me, drove deep into my hot pussy. "I'll bet you're a good fuck." Words of filth, filthy words. A good fuck? Suzie was a brilliant fuck!

  My nipples pinched and squeezed, my cunt fingered, my erect clitoris massaged, I began to quiver in my lewdness. Two men's hands between my thighs, fingering my intimacy? Never had I dreamed that I'd allow one man to use and abuse me behind Tony's back, let alone two! The sensations were heavenly, four hands, twenty fingers... I wanted tongues tonguing, penises fucking.

  I imagined one solid penis mouth-fucking me while the other cunt-fucked me. Fucked, spermed, used for debased sex - the thought sent tingles up my spine. I opened my legs wide as I felt warm breath agai
nst my swollen labia, a tongue licking, exploring, tasting. Arching my back as my nipple was sucked into a hot mouth; I imagined four men, five, six...

  "Who wants my mouth?" I breathed in my wickedness as my solid clitoris throbbed beneath the sweeping tongue. There came no reply, but I sensed movements. My head gently turned to one side, my long blonde hair brushed away from my face, a swollen glans pressed to my lips; I opened my mouth and took the plum inside. Suckling as my cunt lips were parted, a knob stabbing at my inner flesh, I let out a long low moan as a huge penis entered my cunt. Pushing his cock fully home, stretching me wide open, I shuddered in my double adultery.

  My clitoris massaged, my nipples pinched, my body jolting with the cunt-fucking, I completely lost myself in my debauchery. Never had I known such heights of sexual arousal, such depths of depravity. I didn't need Gary now, his cock, his spunk. Now that I had Suzie, I didn't need Gary the pervert. Did I need Tony? Perhaps, over the years, I'd lulled myself into a false sense of security with him. Perhaps my marriage, the blissful happiness, hadn't really existed. Had I deluded myself? I imagined I had.

  "Coming!" the man fucking my cunt gasped as he quickened his penile pistoning, driving his throbbing knob deep into my tightening cunt. I was coming, too. My clitoris massaged faster, I sucked on the twitching cockhead filling my mouth, desperate for the spunk to shoot, to bathe my tongue, to fill my cheeks. God, if Tony saw me now! But he was away in Paris, and Helen was at home painting. She wouldn't answer the phone, of course, but she was there, working. Suzie was working, too.

  Sperm suddenly gushing, filling my mouth, I sucked and drank, sucked and drank as my vagina gulped down the other man's gushing spunk. God's will? Hardly! My orgasm rolled on, peaking now and then, my body shaking violently with the beautifully crude double-fucking. Gasping, moaning, the men drove their cocks into my wet orifices, spunking into me until they drained their swinging balls, brought out the last of their come and found their satisfaction.

  I lay there quivering in my immorality, savouring the salty knob within my mouth, gripping the stilled cock embedded deep within my sperm-brimming cunt. Three men? I wondered. Three orifices, three cocks... no, there were limits! I thought as the men slowly withdrew their spent penises from my sated body.

  "We'll see you again?" someone asked - Ian, I think.

  "Yes, you might," I replied without opening my eyes. I sensed gratification, exhilaration - degradation and humiliation in the extreme. "You might," I repeated as I heard them moving away.

  Finally opening my eyes, I sat up. Spunk oozed from my inflamed cunt, lingered on my tongue. I'd been double-fucked, double-spunked, and I felt wonderfully wicked in my obscenity. Scooping up the blend of sperm and cunt milk dribbling from my open sex hole, I licked my fingers, lapping up the heady cocktail until I'd drained my vagina, swallowed both men's sperm.

  Time to go home, to conceal Suzie from the prying eyes of the world. Climbing to my feet, I again thought of the postman, wondering how to handle the problem. All I wanted were the photographs and my painting - and to wreck his marriage! Suzie would seek out his little wife, his trusting wife. "I allowed your husband to fuck my mouth. He shot his spunk into my mouth," I breathed, tugging my skirt down and buttoning my blouse. Yes, I'd seek out his devoted wife - and destroy him.

  Parading up the lane, my stomach sank as I saw Gary walking towards me. My makeup heavy, my lipstick thick, sperm-smudged, I prayed that he wouldn't recognize me as he approached. This was the ultimate test! I thought as he passed by, offering a slight smile as he eyed my deep cleavage. Male thoughts of crude sex would be filtering into his mind, perverted bastard that he was.

  But I'd done it, fooled Gary, of all people! Suzie lived! Would he like to fuck Suzie? I wondered. Yes, of course he would! But I'd never allow him the debased pleasure. He'd never have the pleasure of fucking Helen's tight cunt again, either. My thoughts turned to Tony as I neared my house, our house. Suzie couldn't fool him, I was sure, but it would be interesting to tempt him, test his fidelity.

  In my bedroom, the marital bedroom, I slipped out of my tarty clothes and hid them in a carrier bag beneath the bed. Naked, I was now Helen, the loving wife, the artist. Loving? I made my way downstairs to the studio and slipped into my smock, my body calmed with sperm, serene, tranquil.

  The aroma of oils filled my nostrils, the taste of spunk lingered on my tongue - I'd found inspiration. "To work!" I breathed, standing before the blank canvas stretched tautly over the wooden frame. "To erotic work!"

  I painted a girl, her naked body reclined on the grass, a crude man crudely fucking her mouth and another driving his solid cock deep into her cunt. This would earn real money! I thought, deciding to have another man's penis spunking over her tits. Tits, another word I'd never used. My vocabulary was widening. My thighs had widened, opened to other men.

  How interesting, I again mused as I painted, to have Suzie tempt Tony, to try to seduce him. The notion intrigued me. Dark glasses in the dark of the night, plenty of makeup... would he be fooled in his foolishness? I shouldn't have told him about my shaved cunt, I shouldn't have allowed him to see my naked sex slit. When he touched Suzie there, he'd realize that she'd shaved and... was there such a thing as a cunt wig?

  I imagined that Tony would delight in fucking Suzie's arse, grab the chance to commit adultery. She could accost him as he returned home from the local pub one night. She'd offer her naked body, knead his bulging trousers. He'd succumb and commit his vile adultery with the vile tart. I imagined many things when I was working.

  By mid-afternoon, the painting was beginning to take shape, spunk spunking over the girl's firm breasts, dribbling from her gobbling mouth, oozing from her cock-bloated cunt. This wasn't a painting I could take to the London gallery! But my agent might place it somewhere; find a pervert who'd appreciate it. Did I appreciate it? I wondered. I stood back, scrutinising my work. My cunt tightened, wetted in my appreciation.

  Grabbing the ringing phone, I grinned to hear the blackmailer's voice. "So, you're looking for a housekeeper," he said. "I didn't realize how well you were doing. The price has gone up to one thousand pounds."

  "You don't want sex, then?" I asked.

  "I do, but you'd recognise me."

  "How do you know that I'm looking for a housekeeper?"

  "I know everything about you, Mrs Hunter - everything."

  You don't know Suzie. "And I know everything about you. How's your wife?"

  "Don't try to bluff me! One thousand pounds, Mrs Hunter. Leave the cash in an envelope beneath your doormat by tomorrow morning or your husband will receive the photos."

  As he hung up, I wondered whether to go straight to his cottage and confront him. No, I had to formulate a plan, a devious plan. At least, by mentioning a housekeeper, he'd unwittingly confirmed that he was the blackmailer - the bastard. If Suzie were to seduce him, suck his cock to orgasm, and his wife discovered his adulterous mouth-fucking, he might... The doorbell rang, breaking my reverie.

  "Oh, it's you," I snapped, opening the door to Alan Walker. "I told you..."

  "Helen, I'm not playing games anymore, I want the money."

  "I have no money. And if I had, I wouldn't give it to you."

  "Then, you leave me no choice."

  "I've already shown my husband the photos you left here. We're splitting up, and he doesn't give a toss about my past."

  "I don't believe you."

  "Alan, come into the lounge, I want to tell you something," I said, opening the door wider, my plan coming together.

  Leading him into the lounge and seating him on the sofa, I stood before him, grinning salaciously. I'd worked out what I'd thought would put an end to his threats, his demands. He'd caught me masturbating in the garden, which would serve to substantiate what I was about to tell him.

  "Alan, I've had an open marriage for many years now. My husband knows exactly what I get up to, and I know what he gets up to. I've watched him fuck my best friend, and he's watched her husband
fuck me."

  "I don't believe..."

  "Your pathetic photographs are nothing in comparison to my sexual exploits. I've had several men while my husband's been away, and I've told him everything."

  "Why are you splitting up, then?"

  "Because he's going to be working away most of the time, and he'll eventually be based in America. I want to stay in this country, so..."

  "You're bluffing."

  "Today, I had one man fuck my mouth while another fucked my cunt."

  "That's rubbish! You're not like that at all! I remember you at art college, Helen the prude!"

  "Get your cock out and I'll suck you off, swallow your spunk. I'll tell my husband all about it when he rings this evening. It turns him on, Alan. He'll wank while I finger my wet cunt and tell him every detail about sucking your knob and swallowing your spunk."

  He frowned, obviously stunned by my fantastic revelation. Slipping my smock over my head, I stood naked before him, my nipples stiffening, my cunt juicing in my wicked arousal. "Actually," I began, licking my lips provocatively as I cupped my firm breasts in my palms. "Actually, my husband would probably like the photographs. He'd frame them; hang them on the wall in his Los Angeles home."

  Still frowning, Alan gazed longingly at my cunt slit - hairless, wet, alluring. Unzipping his trousers, he pulled his erect penis out, a slight smile furling his lips as he waited in expectation. Kneeling between his feet, I gazed into his blue eyes.

  "You have a nice cock," I said, grabbing his solid shaft. "I'll suck you off in exchange for the photographs."

  "Not in exchange, I need money."

  "Don't we all!"

  "You're not really like this. You're doing this to bluff me."

  "Do you honestly believe that I'd suck another man off, swallow his spunk, commit adultery, just to..."

  "Yes, I do believe that. To save your marriage, I believe that you'd do anything. You have a lovely home; you wouldn't give all this up for anything."

  "Why do you think I've shaved my cunt? I'm a tart, Alan, a filthy tart." Many a true word!