Addicted

by Ray Gordon

  Standing up and moving across the room to Tony's chair, my fucking chair, I caressed the large wooden knob. A good show? I'd give him the best display of female masturbation ever! Settling on the sofa, his trousers around his ankles, his penis pointing to the ceiling, he watched as I pulled the back of the chair over and ran the wooden knob up and down my sex-drenched cunt crack. My juices decanting in torrents, lubricating the polished wooden ball in readiness for vaginal penetration, my stomach somersaulted in my lewdness. Sensing my clitoris swell and pulsate, I wondered what Stephen was thinking as he watched my lewd and degrading act.

  I'd first met Stephen at a dinner party. I'd been in awe of him, his position, his power - but now he was in awe of me. The big managing director was nothing more than an ordinary man, a man with sexual desires, a married man - an adulterer. He'd succumb to my juiced cunt, my hot mouth, and give me anything I asked in return. Tony would climb the ladder of promotion all the way to the top, with my help - with the help of my cunt. I was a highly successful prostitute.

  "I enjoy fucking the chair knob," I gasped in my new-found perversity, easing the huge wooden phallus into my vaginal entrance. "I've had candles up my cunt, and cucumbers, bananas, apples..."

  "You're some woman!" he exclaimed, fondling his solid penis. "How often do you masturbate?"

  "As often as I can."

  On reflection, not often enough! The wooden knob sinking deep into my cunt, filling me, stretching my inner flesh, I shuddered. I'd fuck the chair knob every day, I decided. But what was I doing? Standing naked before Stephen Giles, Tony's managing director, with the chair knob up my cunt... what was I doing? My masturbatory habits were to have been a dark secret. Nothing was secret anymore.

  I sensed shame, guilt. I was torn again. Satan was pulling from one direction and God from the other. Was there really a God? God had given me my cunt, and Satan was using my cunt. But if Tony got his promotion... did I want to stay with Tony? Confusion set in, I was floundering in my confused thoughts again.

  "Give the chair a good fuck!" Stephen laughed, focusing on my pussy lips, taut around the wooden phallus. "Fuck the chair and bring yourself off!" Apart from Tony's promotion, and his increase in salary, I'd get double for the Blue Lady, I mused as I rocked my hips, sliding the knob in and out of my tightening vagina. What was I doing? I knew exactly what I was doing! I knew exactly why God had given me a cunt!

  My knees bent, my feet wide apart, I clung to the chair as I thrust my hips back and forth, fucking my hot cunt with the wooden knob. Massaging my clitoris with my free hand, I sensed the birth of my orgasm trembling in my contracting womb. The sensations were heavenly, my entire body coming alive with perverted sex as I climbed ever-closer to my climax. In my new-found filth, I wanted the wooden ball up my arsehole.

  My eyes shut, my mouth open, gasping, I let out a long low moan of pleasure as my orgasm erupted, sending electrifying tingles of sex through my quivering flesh. "God, my cunt!" I cried involuntarily in my perversity. "Ah, God, my beautiful cunt!"

  My head back, my long blonde hair tickling my spine, I continued my chair fucking, my clitoral massaging, sustaining my incredible pleasure until my legs sagged and I crumpled to the floor. Panting, tossing my head from side to side, I squeezed and pinched my nipples as my vagina longingly gripped the cunny-wet wooden ball. I'd found my sexual paradise, the beautiful ripples of sex emanating from my clitoris as I gently massaged her, loved her, I'd found my sexual hell.

  I lay there for some time, unaware of my surroundings, of Stephen's naked body towering over me, his solid penis in his hand. I sensed movement, Stephen kneeling either side of my firm breasts. His cock was hard, warm as he laid his solid shaft in my cleavage and pushed my breasts together with his hands, enveloping his rock-hard penis.

  "Ever had a cleavage fuck?" he asked, rocking his hips, his cock sliding back and forth between my firm tits.

  "No," I murmured, opening my eyes and lifting my head. His glans, his sperm slit, appeared and disappeared as he cleavage-fucked me, abused me.

  "Hold your tits together," he breathed, his eyes transfixed on my nipples. "Transform your cleavage into a tight cunt for me to fuck."

  Pushing my breasts together, squashing his cock between my mammary spheres, my erect nipples meeting, I couldn't take my eyes off his knob as it repeatedly emerged from between my firm globes, my tit cunt. Gasping, he quickened his tit-fucking, his heavy balls rolling over my upper stomach, his pubic curls tickling my sensitive skin.

  This was a new experience for me, cleavage sex. It was something I'd heard about, but never dreamed of trying with Tony. There were many things I'd never dreamed of trying with Tony. Arse-fuck, arse-whip. Did Tony want to deviate from the norm? I wondered. Had he ever thought about experimenting, discovering perverse sexual delights? No, I decided that he hadn't. Tony amalgamated sex with love, as I'd always done. Now, I'd split the two, separated them, pushed a wedge between sex and love. The two words no longer had an association; sex and love were as different as chalk and cheese. I knew what sex was, but what was love?

  "God!" Stephen gasped, his penis swelling between my tits. "Christ, I'm coming!" His spunk shot out of his slit, showering my neck, a pearl necklace. I sensed his sex liquid running down my tingling skin, splattering my face, and I imagined four men positioned around me, wanking, spraying my face, my mouth, my tongue, with their jetting sperm.

  I'd had my fix from Gary, but I scooped up Stephen's offering with my fingertips and sucked them clean. The more sperm I drank, the longer I'd stave off my next craving, my next panic attack - and I wasn't going to let one drop go to waste. Lifting my head and releasing my breasts, I sucked Stephen's orgasming knob into my hot mouth and drained him, swallowing the last globules of opaque liquid before he fell to one side and collapsed on the floor in his adulterous ecstasy.

  "God, you're good!" he breathed, his eyes closed, his slug-like penis snaking over his hairy balls.

  "I get better," I smiled, climbing to my feet and standing with my feet either side of his head, my gaping cunt crack above his face. "You'll have this next time," I grinned, parting my swollen pussy lips and exposing my drenched vaginal opening, my solid clitoris. "You can have this whenever you want, if you keep your side of the bargain."

  "Yes, yes I will," he murmured, focusing on my crudely exposed, drenched sex hole.

  I'd had more than enough sex for the time being. "You'd better sort yourself out and leave, Stephen. I have things to do, work to get on with."

  I sat on the sofa as he dressed, wondering what his wife would do if she discovered his adultery. Hysterics followed by nights of tear-wet pillows, and finally, divorce. He wouldn't want that, I knew. I had Stephen Giles now, had him where I wanted him - and Tony was going to shoot to the top of the ladder. But what would I do? Which ladder was I climbing? Or descending?

  "The painting," Stephen said as he straightened his tie.

  "Yes, I'll get it," I replied, leaping up from the sofa. Returning with the Blue Lady, I smiled as he wrote me a cheque. "Double, Stephen," I reminded him.

  "Yes, that's what I'm doing. There you are, and thanks."

  "Thank you. I'll expect Tony to ring me tomorrow with news of his pay rise."

  "Yes, I'm sure he will. I'll... I'll call again."

  "Please do."

  Taking the cheque, I passed Stephen the painting and saw him out. Another problem solved, Stephen and I were equal in our debauchery - he had something on me and I had something on him. In reflection, I suppose I had nothing on him, seeing as there was no proof of his adultery, but I sensed satisfaction. My cunt had power over him.

  As I climbed the stairs to go to bed, I realized that, for the first time in weeks, I felt good about myself. I was tired, my inflamed sex ducts brimming with sperm, my neck and face sticky with the starchy, dried liquid - but I felt elation. I'd sleep well and wake refreshed, have a bath and look forward to a day of painting erotica - a day of erotic painting.

  How many
men had I had now? I wondered as I lay beneath the quilt, caressing my appreciative clitoris, my spunk-dripping vaginal entrance. How many different men had mouth-fucked me, cunt-fucked me, arse-fucked me? Now, I'd been cleavage-fucked, tit-fucked. Closing my eyes, I continued to stroke my ripening clitoris, revelling in the beautiful sensations until I finally drifted off to sleep and dreamed my dreams of perverted sex.

  The morning sun woke me, bathed me as I lay with the quilt pushed back, warmed my naked breasts. What would the day bring? I wondered. Masturbation, orgasm - more sperm? I fondled my sticky cunt crack as I lay there thinking - spunk-sticky. I'd have some fun with Suzie, I decided. Visit the postman's wife again and hurt her. I felt that I wanted to hurt Tony, too, although I didn't know why. Tony didn't deserve hurt, but I did.

  After a shower, I donned Suzie's outfit and went down for breakfast. Ten-thirty, it was getting late. Time passing, days, months, years... where was time taking me? My life was passing me by. It occurred to me as I ate my scrambled eggs on toast that I wasn't having any fun, there was no laughter. Suzie would bring me fun and laughter. Suzie was my best friend.

  As I was about to leave the house, the doorbell rang. I couldn't answer it as the new Suzie, I'd give the game away. Keeping quiet, I waited in the hall, praying that my visitor would leave, but the bell rang and rang. Checking myself in the full-length mirror, I decided that my sun glasses, my ginger wig and heavy makeup, were disguise enough. I'd say that I was a friend of Helen's, that she'd gone out and wouldn't be back for some time. I didn't know what I was going to say.

  "Hi," I smiled, opening the door to Gary, disguising my voice as best I could.

  "Oh, er... is Helen in?" he asked, scrutinising my long legs, my yellow micro-skirt.

  "Sorry, she's out."

  "Will she be long?"

  Suzie was bringing me fun. "I don't know, do you want to come in and wait?"

  "Thanks."

  "I'm Jackie," I smiled.

  "Oh, right. I'm Gary."

  Entering the hall, Gary couldn't take his eyes off me, my tarty clothes, my deep cleavage, my nipples pressing through my flimsy blouse. For some inexplicable reason I blurted out that Helen was my sister. He sat on the sofa, probably wondering at his chances of fucking me, forcing his solid cock deep into my wet cunt. I was surprised that he didn't recognise me. There again, my disguise was good, very good.

  "Are you a mate of hers?" I asked, standing before him.

  "Yes, I am. I live just down the lane, the house next door. I didn't know she had a sister."

  "Yeah, that's me. She's a bitch," I began, wondering how to have some real fun.

  "A bitch?" he frowned.

  Jackie was a prostitute, common. Her voice had to reflect that. "I'd better not say nothing, I don't want to drop her in the shit."

  "Please, go on."

  "Well, she's living here in this bloody big house, doing well, supposedly happily married, and yet... you won't say nothing, will you?"

  "No, of course not."

  "She used to be on the game."

  "What?" he gasped, gazing up at me as I stood with my feet apart, my naked cunt veiled only by my short skirt.

  "I shouldn't have said nothing, it's just that... we worked together, until she met that prat Tony."

  "Are you a..."

  "A prostitute? Yeah, I am. Helen don't want me here. I'm from her sordid past, see, and she don't want me hanging around. Just look at this place, she's done bloody well for herself, ain't she?"

  "Yes, she has," he replied. "But I can't believe that she..."

  "She puts on a posh voice to fool everyone. She reckons she's the lady of the bloody manor. She ain't nothing like what she used to be, I can tell you!"

  "This is incredible!" he breathed, his eyes transfixed on my inner thighs.

  "Her husband's posh enough, but he never thought nothing of giving me one behind her back."

  "Tony? He..."

  "Yeah. The last time I come here, Helen was out. He thought me worth a try and ended up giving me one over the kitchen table. He don't know I'm her sister, he thinks we met at college."

  "When did he... when did he give you one, Jackie?"

  "About two months back, I suppose. I charged him top wack, of course."

  "Has she told you that she's addicted to..."

  "Yeah, the daft bitch!" I giggled.

  Sitting in the armchair opposite Gary, my stomach somersaulting, I wondered what other stories to make up. I didn't know why I was playing such a dangerous game, but I found it incredibly exciting. Perhaps Gary would blackmail Helen, threaten to tell Tony of her sordid past. The fun was only just beginning!

  "She's got a kid, you know," I said, parting my thighs.

  "A kid? Bloody hell!"

  "You don't know the half of it! We used to make dirty videos. I'll never forget the one we done with six blokes. God, it was a bloody laugh!"

  "Tell me more," he grinned, gazing between my thighs, desperately trying to eye my cunt.

  I felt wicked, elated, as I wondered what other incredible stories to relate to Gary. I'd tell him dreadful things about Helen and he'd blackmail her, and end up making a fool of himself when he was proved wrong. Watching him through my dark glasses, I decided to go a little further.

  "We done six months in the slammer for bleeding shop lifting. Jesus, I could tell you a few things about our Helen."

  "Such as?"

  "We used to stay in hotels for nothing. We'd fuck the managers, get free meals and everything. Got a fag?"

  "No, I don't smoke. Look, I have things to do. I'll come back later," he said, rising to his feet, obviously planning his threats, his blackmail.

  "Yeah, right. I might see you again, you never know."

  "I'd love to see you again!"

  "Yeah, I'll bet you would, you dirty bugger!"

  Watching him leave the room, I was about to suggest that he fuck me, but I didn't want him yanking my wig or glasses off in the process. As the front door closed, I leaped to my feet, wondering at my stupidity. I must have been mad! What was there to gain from all I'd said to Gary? Trouble, that's what!

  It seemed as though I was lurching between Helen and Suzie - and Jackie - not sure what I was doing or why. Telling Gary that Jackie was Helen's sister was a mistake, I knew, but what was done was done. It had been fun, though.

  Hearing a car pull into the drive, I wandered over to the window to see Tony climbing out of a taxi. "God!" I breathed, looking down at my clothes. Panicking, I dashed through the hall into the kitchen and leaped out of the back door. I should have gone upstairs and changed, but it was too late - I'd had no time to think. In the garden, I hid behind the bushes, praying that Tony would take a bath, give me time to change into Helen, the devoted, loving wife.

  "Helen!" he called. "Helen, where are you?" After searching the house, he wandered out into the garden. Crouching behind the bushes, frozen to the spot, I waited until he went back inside - my heart racing, my hands trembling. Praying that I'd chosen the right moment, I crept through the hedge at the bottom of the garden and out into the field behind the house. But what to do now? Where to go? Gary's place?

  Chapter Ten

  After sitting beneath the hot sun for a couple of hours, I crept back to the house, praying that Tony had gone out. What was he doing coming home unannounced like that? I sensed anger rising, annoyance. He was disrupting my life, spoiling my plans.

  I heard Tony in the lounge, rabbiting on his mobile phone as I crept upstairs to the bedroom. I was safe, he hadn't heard me. Hurriedly changing, wiping the thick makeup off my face and concealing Suzie's clothes beneath the bed, I emerged as Helen, the faithful, loving wife. Tony frowned as I entered the lounge and smiled at him. Was he suspicious? He was always suspicious! I suppose I was a highly suspicious person.

  "Where have you been?" he asked, almost accusingly.

  No welcome kiss? "I went to post some letters and got talking to... What are you doing back? I thought..."

>   "I've finished in Paris, for a while, anyway. I have some good news, Helen," he smiled, crossing the room and putting his arms around me. I felt nothing. "I don't know why, but old man Giles has given me a pretty impressive pay rise."

  "Really? He must thing you're doing well."

  "Yes, I suppose so."

  "You don't seem very pleased."

  "I am pleased; it's just that I don't understand it. The other day he was indicating that I'm not ready for promotion, and then he not only puts my salary up, but says that I'm head of the queue for promotion."

  "I wouldn't question it, Tony. If he thinks you're worth more money and the company will benefit by your promotion, accept it and be happy." Stephen obviously thought that I was worth the money, that my cunt was worth the money.

  "Yes, you're right. How are you, been working hard?"

  "Yes, I have." On Stephen's cock, Gary's cock...

  "It's good to be home. I've been worried out of my mind about you, Helen."

  "I don't know why," I said nonchalantly, pulling away and moving to the sofa. "All I've been doing is going for walks and working."

  "You don't seem very pleased to see me. You've lost your sparkle, why don't you tell me what's wrong?"

  "Please, Tony! We've only been together for two minutes, and you've started going on already!"

  "I'm sorry, it's just that you're not your old self, you've changed."

  "God, not the you've changed line again. I'm tired, that's all. If anyone's changed, it's you, not me."

  "I haven't changed!"

  "Why don't you go and make us some coffee? And stop worrying."

  "I worry because I love you."

  Gary loves my cunt, my mouth.

  Gazing around the lounge as Tony mooched off, I noticed his bureau, his chair - the cunny-stained wooden knob. They somehow symbolised Tony, his methodical ways, his fastidiousness, and I realized that I didn't want him. I should have told Stephen Giles to send him abroad more often, not base him in London. I'd made another mistake.