That Filthy Book

by Lily Harlem

  Suddenly, he withdrew his fingers and my arse clenched, the remaining sting erotic and dark.

  “You want the plug?” he asked.

  “No, no I just want you, Jacob, please.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure, please.” I lowered and deepened my voice, surprising myself at how husky and dirty I sounded when I spoke. “Jacob, fuck me—fuck me up the arse, now.”

  The sound that erupted from his throat was more growl than speech, and in an instant the rigid crown of his cock was there; pressing, pushing.

  The lube was cool, his cock hot, and when he pushed in that first inch, the sensation of the two temperatures mixing was a welcome distraction from the whip of pain snapping around my anal opening. It stung like a firecracker, burning and biting.

  “Ah fuck, yes I’m in, love, you did it.”

  “Oh, God,” I groaned. How would I be able to take any more of him? He was so wide and so unimaginably long to fit inside my small cavity. I continued to masturbate, harnessing and swapping the sensations spinning through my pelvis.

  “I’m going in deeper,” he said, wrapping his fingers around my hipbones and pinning me tight to the bed. “Tell me to stop if you need to.”

  I shook my head frantically. I wanted him to ride into me as much as I wanted him to get the hell out.

  “Oh, sweet motherfucker,” he moaned, as he slid further in.

  “Oh God, Jacob,” I said, the words thick and heavy in my throat.

  He was so deep now, his balls nudged my engorged labia. The sensation was nothing like the butt plug. He was so wide; the whole length of him. Unlike the tapered shape of the plug, his cock was a dense rod of flesh, spearing me.

  My muscles contracted, and I had an unbearable urge to expel him, to bear down. I opened my mouth in anguish, fearful of what was about to happen.

  He withdrew. Not all the way, just so the head of his cock was inside me, the flare of his glans nestled against the inside wall of my arse. The feeling, thankfully, retreated.

  “Karen, love, I’m not going to last long. This is fucking amazing.”

  I groaned in response. Worked at my clit and claimed the first spark that would lead me to orgasm.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yes, yes,” I panted. “But can I have the vibrator too? To send me over the edge with you.” I stretched for it and he moved slightly with me so he didn’t pop out. I tossed it downwards for him, and within a second its familiar humming filled the room. It was one of those vibrators with ears, tiny buzzing ears, and as he smoothed it into my channel, I guided the ears to either side of my clit.

  Instantly, the sensations went up a level. I never stood a chance of lasting with the vibrator, and with him in my arse—well, I was already pulsing on the edge of orgasm.

  “I’m going to fuck your arse harder now,” Jacob said in a rasping voice that held more than a hint of the bad boy in him.

  “Yes, yes, Jacob, fuck my arse, fuck me hard.”

  He drove in, his fingers tight on my hips and his cock claiming my body in a way it never had before. It was so utterly primitive and deliciously bad that I cried out—in discomfort, in ecstasy, at the wonderful fullness and connection deep within me.

  He stilled. “Shit, I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

  “No, fuck no, Jacob, don’t stop, please don’t stop.” I thrust backwards, trying to impale myself harder on him. The vibrator was so high, nudging my cervix, stimulating my G-spot. My clit was getting ready for take-off, and his cock, damn, his cock was burning and glorious, thick and wicked. An orgasm of the most intense variety loomed before me. But I wanted to prolong this moment before I grabbed it.

  “Jesus, I can feel the vibrator,” Jacob groaned, pulling back then steaming in again. “No fucking wonder it gets you off every time, it feels fucking fabulous.”

  I couldn’t reply. My world had spiralled into a wonderful kaleidoscope of ecstasy. Carnal, primitive ecstasy. I was coming, it was there. Holding it off was impossible.

  “Jacob, I’m, I’m…please, speak dirty to me while I…please…”

  There was a pulse beat of hesitation then, “Ah, yes, I’m fucking your arse now, whore, really fucking your slutty fucking arse. Take it, take all of it, right up high.”

  As Jacob picked up to jackhammer pace, I erupted in a writhing heap of orgasmic wonder. Over and over, the waves crashed through me. I may have screamed in pleasure, or maybe the sound was in my head. I didn’t know. I didn’t care.

  “You’re taking it good up your arse, bitch. I’m gonna be doing this again real soon, whenever I fucking want to, ah, ha, fuck…”

  A second orgasm ravaged my body, his words catapulting me onto a new high. My back and neck arched to breaking point, and my arsehole burned as Jacob plunged deep and spurted his cum into my passage.

  “Oh, fuck, yes, yes…” he shouted, loud and uninhibited. “Fuck, that…is…it!”

  “Oh, Jacob, Jacob. Oh, God, yes.” My whole body pulsed; my arms and legs were spasming. His were too—I could feel his tremors juddering through him and into me.

  Suddenly, his big body flopped over mine, his heaving chest hitting me square in the shoulders.

  I grunted as air pushed from my lungs. “Jacob, the, the…”

  “Jesus Christ, Karen, that’s something else.”

  I wriggled and twisted. “The vibrator, turn it off,” I gasped. The sensations in my pussy were overwhelming, the stimulation too much after two intense orgasms. My clit and G-spot were engorged and delicate—the toy still thumping into them was a wild discomfort.

  Quickly he shifted, sought the base and withdrew it. He kept his cock lodged deep.

  “You okay?” he panted by my ear.

  “Yes, oh God, yes.” I could hardly catch my breath. My heart raced and the sound of my heartbeat raged in my ears. “And thank you, thank you for the dirty words at the end.”

  He kissed my shoulder. “I’d do anything for you, you know that.”

  “Yes, yes, and I’d do anything for you.”

  We stayed like that for a long time, his cock in my arse and his chest hair scratching my shoulder blades. It felt right, perfect. Jacob and I had always been close but this was a whole new level.

  I couldn’t wait to do it all over again.

  Chapter Seven

  Being sore wasn’t something I’d usually relish, but this time it served to remind me that another of my fantasies had been met. Every time I walked or moved, my arse ached, stung a little, bringing back memories of what we’d done the day before.

  With Jacob at work and the girls in school, I wandered through the house, tidying absently with no real vigour for my tasks. My mind remained on yesterday, and I relived it time and again until I couldn’t take it anymore. I risked having to rush upstairs and give myself some relief.

  I’d turned into a woman who craved sex, just like the woman in that book.

  But would Jacob be able to cope with my demands—ones I knew would grow with time? The days in between us being able to indulge freely were too many for my liking, and the planned weekend away couldn’t come fast enough. Jacob’s parents were coming to stay, to mind the girls while we went off on the ruse that we needed some special time over our anniversary weekend. Soon, the excuses for going away would dwindle.

  What the hell would we do then?

  I gripped the sink edge and stared out of the kitchen window into our back garden, at the large expanse of dark green lawn and the surrounding land—dips and swells of ground that went on for miles. We lived on the outskirts of town, our nearest neighbours far enough away that, if we had sex outside and I cried out, they wouldn’t hear me. The thick stand of trees at the bottom, more of a copse, really, would be a perfect screen, shielding us from any prying eyes.

  The next time they stayed over at Jacob’s parents’…

  I turned, walked through the house, the next chapter of that book playing on my mind—again. The place was so empty, so
quiet. Maybe it was time I got myself back into the workplace. My brain was too idle, that was it. That was why I couldn’t stop entertaining myself with sexual scenarios. But Jacob wanted me home, where the girls knew if they were sick I’d be here to care for them, not at work, trying to plead with a boss who had no intention of allowing me to go home. If I was honest, I wanted that too. Perhaps I could find something online that would allow me to stay home? I’d talk with Jacob about it, see what he thought.

  Sighing, I had the abrupt urge to get out. To go somewhere, even if just for a walk.

  I was lying to myself. I wanted to go and investigate the garden.

  For places to have sex.

  Instead of beating myself up over these new thoughts and desires, I shrugged away what was deemed ‘right’ and ‘normal’ and decided to fully embrace this new me. I’d said this before, but the old Karen kept creeping back in. Finding a balance between the two was proving harder than I thought. But I could do this, couldn’t I? Other women managed just fine—and not just fictitious women.

  Look, if I want to have sex outside again, why shouldn’t I? The world won’t go to Hell in a hand-basket if we fuck out there. Just because I’m a mother and a wife, it doesn’t mean my life has to change to the degree that I lose my identity.

  I’d already done that once and I wasn’t about to do it again.

  With fresh determination, I strode to the hallway, pulled on my boots and put on my coat, my mission firmly rooted inside me. With the keys and my mobile phone in my pocket, I left the house and walked around to the back. I stood in front of the kitchen window and glanced around.

  A wooden table and chairs sat on the crazy-paved patio, a brick barbecue beside them. I could lean over that table… A small fountain, water splashing over protruding rocks, gurgling in the quiet. Stretching out naked beside it on a blanket would be nice, but not until the summer. We could get one of those patio heaters, have a private barbecue, feed one another and drink wine until the cows came home. That would be a romantic night, nothing like the torrid, frantic fucks we’d engaged in so far. I found myself looking forward to it, filing that sultry summer evening into my mind for when the seasons changed.

  I stared ahead at the trees, far enough away that we’d feel secluded, just us in the world with no one else in it. I smiled. That was what I wanted more than anything else. Yes, the sex was an added bonus, but it being just me and Jacob, concentrating on one another and not the girls, the bills, life…

  Strutting across the damp lawn, I shoved my hands in my pockets. The day was crisp, with a bite to the air that chilled my fingers and pinched at my cheeks. A wayward breeze pushed my hair back from my face, and my eyes watered at the sudden assault. What would it feel like to have that breeze on my naked skin, the coldness perking my nipples? Springing goosebumps, Jacob’s hands melting them away?

  Exciting.

  I reached the trees slightly out of breath, keen to find a suitable spot. Birds scattered at my approach, their safe haven invaded as I walked through the copse. Their squawks echoed, as did the sound of their flapping wings, and I supposed they were fleeing to roost somewhere else, waiting for the human to leave their place.

  I gazed around, hands on hips, and frowned as I studied the area. The oak trunks were all rough, and I imagined the bark biting my arse as Jacob fucked me against one of them. My shoulder blades chafing. Twigs and natural outdoor debris digging into the soles of my feet.

  It turned me on.

  I ran a hand up the bark, skating over the knobbly protrusions, skin tingling from the contact. Moss, soft as velvet in places, dusted my fingertips, and the image of my back and arse streaked with it after sex filled my mind. I almost asked myself what was wrong with me but stopped.

  There’s nothing wrong with me. I just…

  I didn’t allow the next thought to bloom. Constant analysing wouldn’t change anything. I was different now, back to who I used to be, the young woman who had first met Jacob, and I just had to accept it. No more Mrs Good Girl, doing what other people thought I should. We’d do things our way, when we could, how we wanted. We’d plan it all out, right down to the last detail, and enjoy it.

  There, I’d told myself off for the last time.

  Feeling as though a burden had been lifted, I walked further into the mini forest, searching for a less ragged tree trunk. I found several, belonging to blackthorns. Two, with slim, relatively smooth trunks, stood close enough that if Jacob were to tie my wrists to each, I’d be spread-eagled between them, my body star-shaped and perfect for the germ of a new fantasy that popped into my head right then. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to lean over comfortably, though, without my shoulders and armpits screaming with pain. Would my tied wrists be able to take the strain? Would the ropes chafe my skin, leaving it sore and broken?

  That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

  I moved between the trees, reaching out to lay a hand on each trunk. Bent over to test the pain level. It wasn’t much, and without the encumbrance of my coat and clothes I’d have more freedom. Jacob could stand behind me, too, with enough room to strike my arse using a twig with the bark stripped off.

  Where the hell had that idea come from?

  I knew really, just didn’t want to admit it.

  I stood upright, fingers tightening on the trees, my breath coming hard and fast. Exhilaration steamed through me, as though a part of my brain had registered that unlocking what I’d obviously held inside had produced a kind of liberty. And it had, hadn’t it? As another gust of wind wended through the trees and ruffled my hair, flapping the open front of my coat so that they billowed at my sides, I had the urge to laugh. To let out all the old parts of me, the sound carried away by that wind, never to return. My smile hurt my face, but damn it felt good.

  I dropped my arms to my sides and twirled in a circle, feeling young again, with a new purpose, new ways in mind to bring me and Jacob closer. Just us. Time together.

  I wanted to strip naked, right here, right now, and dance around the garden, testing the cold on my skin, seeing if it fit.

  I didn’t.

  Instead, I went back into the trees, my gaze on the ground in search of a sturdy yet flexible branch. One that wouldn’t break when Jacob struck me with it, or hurt because it was too rigid. My few minutes’ search proved fruitless—the branches were mere twigs—so I resorted to looking upwards and finding one I could snap off a tree. The perfect candidate jutted off a long, thicker branch, low enough for me to reach up and wrench free. It broke away, the jagged end sap-coated and smelling sickly. I ran my palm up and down its length then swiped it through the air in an arc to see whether the other, tapered end was pliant.

  That word zipped a torrent of lust to my cunt, and I wished Jacob was home so he could bring me off, give me release. I brought my legs together, squeezed them tight to make the pulse in my clit go away. My stomach rolled with excitement as thoughts of what we could do out here swished through my mind. I imagined myself bound to those trees, a full moon hanging in an almost black sky, casting strong light that filtered through the leaves above and dappled the ground. From behind, Jacob’s breath warmed my naked skin—my neck, one shoulder—his body heat so intense I knew he was almost touching me. I saw it as though I had already entertained this before, but I hadn’t. It was all new to me, the wanting of this scenario, the tree branch, being tied to the trunks.

  As with my other fantasies, once the seed of turning them into reality had been planted it grew, raging through me, growing tendrils that snaked off in different directions, different possibilities that could occur from one basic idea. For our first time out here—would Jacob even want to do this?—I wanted my original desire, but on other occasions… God, there was so much to explore. We could play out the rape fantasy again, Jacob chasing me across the garden as I escaped the house. He could be an intruder, intent on taking me in our bed, but I’d get away, come here, try to hide behind the thicker trunks. But he’d find me, take me roughly on t
he ground or bend me over that tree stump over there, the moonlight showcasing my bare arse and breasts.

  Quickly, I walked towards the house and sat on a patio chair, beginning the task of stripping the bark from the branch. One scenario at a time, I told myself. We had plenty of days to investigate every single one that entered my mind in the future, and I hoped Jacob would provide some too. It would be interesting to know what he thought of in his private moments, what he wanted to do to me, and whether it was something I’d thought about too. Or perhaps there was something he wanted me to do to him.

  I stripped the branch and felt along its new, pale skin, slapping it across my palm to test how it felt. A sharp yet pleasing sting. I had no idea whether it would turn brittle before Jacob used it. Did I need some kind of resin to stop that happening?

  The sweet scents from exposing the layer beneath the bark wafted up, earthy and primitive, and gave me that sense of freedom that I’d experienced earlier. Was there something inside all of us, something archaic that harked back to the beginning of time, of man, where the aromas outside linked to our baser instincts? I had discovered something I hadn’t thought would turn me on before, hadn’t thought I needed—the burning desire to be taken in the open air with the smell of nature around me.

  It was one of the most pleasant revelations I’d ever had.

  * * * *

  Jacob had called around one o’clock to let me know he’d be late home, something to do with him having to finish up some paperwork so it could be couriered tonight. At first I was disappointed. I couldn’t wait to let him in on my new fantasy, but in a way it had been a Godsend. Trying to tell him while the girls were around—interrupting and just being within earshot, me trying to convey what I wanted in a coded way—wasn’t ideal. No, I wanted to tell him every delicious detail, gaining his whole attention, with us relaxed in the knowledge that the children were asleep and wouldn’t know what their parents were getting up to.