Fiction – Serenity, part 3

Find part 1 here

Find part 2 here

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As Dave ran his finger gently over the crease between her shoe and her foot, Serenity cried out in pain. It felt to her as though his finger was a scalpel, cutting further into the wound of her bleeding foot.

“Oh God, sorry.”

He blushed.

“Let me kiss it better”.

Bending over, he brushed his lips over the arch of her foot. Serenity held her breath. The pain was still there, but there was something soothing about the way his lips caressed her tender skin, and she started to relax ever so slightly.

“Better?” he mumbled, not taking his mouth away from her foot. “A bit”, she responded, slightly distracted by the sensation of his warm breath on her skin.

For the first time since coming home on Friday night, Serenity started to forget a little about the pain in her foot and feel more herself. She took the opportunity to survey the back of Dave’s head properly for the first time. He was good-looking, of that there was no doubt. Not her normal type though. He had the physique of a cyclist – tall, lean and  muscular, and a friendly, open, slightly weather-beaten face under sun-bleached hair that seemed contrary to the normal pallor of most other night-owl barmen she knew.

Serenity shifted slightly on the couch, running her eyes down his back, to where his t-shirt met his belted jeans. The movement caused her robe to open slightly, revealing more thigh, but she resisted the automatic reflex to close it again.

Sensing the movement, Dave looked up quizzically. “Do I need to kiss the rest of your legs better too?” he smirked. She giggled. “Well, it might take my mind off my feet…”

Dave grabbed a calf in each hand and kissed her knees playfully. “Here? And here….and here….and, oh, and here?” With that he moved slowly and surely up the inside of her left thigh, stopping only to glance up at Serenity’s face and make a mental note of the hardening outline of her nipples under her robe.

The goosebumps on her legs followed his progress further up her thighs as sticky juices seeped from her pussy in anticipation of where his mouth was heading. As he reached the edge of her robe, he snapped at it playfully and looked her directly in the eyes for the first time.

His eyes flashed at her, a deep, dark blue. Yes, they were friendly and open, but she also saw a hunger and an intensity in them that she realised she had not seen in anyone for a long time. The look was both provocative and searching, and she knew instantly what it meant.

Almost involuntarily she parted her legs slightly wider, causing the robe to fall open and expose her glistening cunt to his gaze.

“Good girl”, he whispered.

Her lips parted and her breathing grew heavier as she could no longer hide her arousal.

“But you’re not really a good girl, are you Serenity?” he continued in the same, soothing tone, “you’re a very bad girl, aren’t you? I watch you, you know. Watch the way you flirt outrageously with any man that takes your fancy. I watch the way you use your body to lure them into your little trap. Then you devour them and spit them out, don’t you?”

She nodded silently. His tone changed.

“Slut.”

A wave of emotion washed over Serenity at that moment. Her heart pounded faster, and her lips formed into a smile of relief. Finally somebody had dared say it to her face. She felt…recognised?…in a way she had never experienced before. It simultaneously calmed and emboldened her, as the balance of power seemed to have palpably shifted.

She nodded again.

She didn’t expect his next move, which was to take his middle finger and plunge it deep into her dripping pussy. She held her breath and awaited his approval, which he gave with a curt nod, and the addition of a second finger. As he proceeded to rub his thumb over her pulsating clit, she realised she was almost forgetting about the pain in her feet. Almost, but not quite.

“You’re holding back”, he stated calmly.

“It’s…my feet” she groaned, the strangest mix of pain and pleasure causing her to shiver.

He continued to rub her clit, but looked thoughtful.  “There’s nothing I’d like better than to bury my face in your cunt and lick you until to scream my name. I don’t think that’s what you need though. You’re obviously still being punished, and I think we need to make sure that punishment is seen through to the end, don’t you?”

Still apparently lost for words, Serenity simply nodded for a third time.

“Turn over”

Fear and anticipation began to rise inside her. As Dave showed no sign of removing his fingers from between her legs, she rolled over awkwardly, as best she could. She was glad her face was pushed into the cushions of the settee, as it meant she could hide the rising redness in her cheeks.

Dave lifted up her legs and slid himself onto the sofa underneath them, pushing her robe further up her back and exposing her backside fully.

“Do your feet still hurt?”

She muffled an affirmative, as he withdrew his fingers from her cunt, and placed his hand gently on her bottom, running it speculatively over her cheeks and upper thighs.

The combination of the slight suffocating effect of the cushions, and the tightening of her chest with expectation meant her breathing grew shallower and more urgent.

Dave’s soothing tone came back. “Sssshhh…it’s ok”. His hands continued to run over her backside, tracking the swell and curves of her body with each finger in turn, then gently fanning her cheeks with his palm. Slowly, and gently he replenished his fingers with the natural lubrication of her pussy, before testing the skin of her anus with his index finger.

She tensed, waiting for the intrusion, but it didn’t come. Instead, he lifted his palm and slapped it down tentatively on her right buttock, causing her to pant with the same rhythm. When no protest came, he smacked his palm down harder, once, then twice in quick succession.

Serenity had never felt such helplessness. She knew she could tell him to stop at any point, but her body seemed unable to make her actually do so. It was as though her will had dislocated itself from her brain, and something primal had taken over. All she wanted was for the pain to stop, and yet, all she wanted was for him to carry on.

The slight stinging on her right buttock left behind a tingly heat as he turned his attention to the left one, again smacking his palm down hard three times in quick succession.

Once he had finished the spanking, he waited, gazing at the red marks on her dark skin with satisfaction.

Now, finally, with all her concentration on the pain on her behind, the pain in her feet drifted out of her mind, and she suddenly found she could no longer hold herself together. Her body convulsed, and tears started to stream down her face. Dave pulled her up and towards him, gathering her in his arms, and holding her tight as he waited for the roller-coaster of emotions to leave her body.

They sat there like that for what seemed like an eternity, neither of them speaking, until finally she kicked off her shoes and held him closer.

THE END.

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Fiction – Serenity, part 2

Find part 1 here

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Serenity slept fitfully, true to her usual habits. Visions of faceless men drifted into her subconscious. Men that made her want to run, simultaneously towards them and away from them. She didn’t know in which direction, she just knew she had to run. She was running so much that her feet were hurting. Her feet really hurt.

Oh God, she had to stop running.

It took her a moment to fully come to and realise that the pain in her feet was real and was what had woken her. She rolled over carefully and looked down at herself, still naked except for the patent stilettos that now seemed to be almost a part of her own limbs.

Her mind drifted back to what had happened in the bar. What had the voice said? “Your precious heels will remind you of me and the pain you caused me, until you understand” She was still no closer to recognising the voice. The voice – the man – had seemed to know her though. Had she slept with him? The implication was there. It was true that she had had her fair share of one-night stands over the last 18 months or so, but she was sure she had never misled anyone about her intentions. She certainly didn’t remember deliberately causing anybody any pain.

Serenity spent most of the day in bed, only getting up for a cup of coffee around midday, and the occasional trip to the bathroom. She responded to her friends’ phonecalls with a curt text that only seemed to make them more worried, and their calls more urgent. She ignored them all, watched a little TV, downed half a bottle of vodka and went back to bed, where once again she had the same dreams of faceless men and searing pain.

It was a persistent knocking that woke her on the following day, a Sunday. Serenity buried her head under her pillow in the hope she wouldn’t have to answer, and willed them to go away.

The knocking didn’t stop, and a man’s voice called her name.

“Serenity? I know you’re in there. Answer the door. It’s Dave. From the bar?”

Serenity sat up. Dave? What the hell was he doing there, and, more to the point, how had he got her address?

As it became clear that he was not going anywhere, Serenity reluctantly got out of bed and limped her way to the door, throwing on a robe to half-cover her nakedness on the way. At the door she paused for a moment to try and overcome the searing pain that was still coming from her feet, and gather her thoughts.

“Dave?” she called through the door.”What are you doing here?”

“I bumped into Helen this morning. She told me she was worried about you, so I offered to stop by and check you were ok. She says you’re not answering your phone.”

Serenity hesitated.

“It’s ok, Dave… I’m…ok. Tell her not to worry about me.”

“You don’t really sound ok, Serenity. Can I come in?”

The tone of his voice told her that there was no way she was going to get rid of him easily. It seemed she had no choice but to let him in.

The Serenity that greeted Dave did not look like the Serenity he knew, or was used to seeing in the bar. That Serenity was vibrant, full of life, the centre of attention. The woman who stood in front of him looked smaller and more subdued. Her chocolate skin had a strange ashy grey quality about it, and her lips were pale and cracked. In his shock, he barely even registered that she only appeared to be wearing a jersey robe, half open down to her waist, only just clinging on to her modesty.

His surprise must have been obvious, for Serenity smiled ruefully. “Sorry, I’ve not got my face on. Come in.”

As she turned and led the way to the kitchen, he noticed that she appeared to be wearing the same heels she had worn the last time he had seen her on the previous Friday. The outline of her shapely arse was visible through the thin cloth of her dressing gown, and his groin twitched involuntarily with the effect her appearance always had on him.

It was obvious that she was limping, and he didn’t understand why she was still wearing the fierce-looking stilettos. They didn’t look comfortable at all.

“Coffee?”

“Yes please. But let me make it, you don’t look too good.”

Serenity leaned gratefully against the kitchen counter and pointed out where things were, taking the opportunity to take the weight off her throbbing feet.

“If you don’t mind me asking”, Dave finally said, “do you always wear your highest heels around the house?”

He was not prepared for the reaction this question prompted, which was that Serenity suddenly burst into floods of big, gut-wrenching sobs. He caught her as she half-crumpled, and carried her into the little living room, placing her gently on the sofa, and holding her somewhat awkwardly.

“Shhhh…it’s ok…it’s ok….”

He waited patiently for the sobs to subside, merely repeating gentle affirmations and stroking the side of her face with the lightest of touches.

When she was finally ready to look at him, the whole story poured out of her. The bar, the nightclub, the strange voice, and how she was now unable to remove her shoes, with the associated pain. Once she had finished, he moved down towards her foot, picking it up gently again.

Other than the traces of dried blood that she had obviously tried to wash off, the foot and the shoe looked normal to him. Pulling gently, however, he soon realised that what she had told him was true. There was no chance that her foot and her shoe were parting ways any time soon.

____

TO BE CONTINUED

Fiction – Underground

The second of my stories originally published on Wordejaculation.

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She was grumpy. It had been one of those days at work where nothing seemed to go right. Customers weren’t happy, her boss was frustrated and the stupid cow she shared an office with had decided to leave early and dumped all the urgent tasks on her.

His day, on the other hand, had left him buzzing – one of those rare days when everything seemed to have gone his way, and the testosterone was flowing. Plus that new girl in HR was definitely flirting with him. He grinned as he walked the short distance to the underground station and got on the train.

The métro on the way home was packed, as usual. She sighed, squeezed her way in and tried her hardest not to breathe in the smell of stale commuters. As she stood holding onto the rail, she closed her eyes and imagined herself far away. People were still squeezing on, until it seemed every possible drop of air was being taken up. As the train set off, she let her body yield to the rocking movement of the carriage. Inwardly cursing the bags and briefcases that were digging into her, she concentrated on her mental image of palm trees and sunny beaches.

He looked around the carriage and momentarily hesitated as he brushed up against the woman in front of him. Was that the new girl from HR? The one with the amazing arse and the penchant for killer heels? He had spent many an enjoyable moment wanking over the thought of dragging her into the nearest fire escape and fucking her senseless. He was momentarily disappointed as he realised that this was in fact a different woman – still, the resemblance was striking. Damn, she was also pretty hot. He felt his cock start to throb as he admired the way this woman’s curves were visible through the pencil skirt she was wearing. He cursed the fact he was directly behind her and tried to imagine the front of her blouse – slightly too many buttons undone, perhaps…a peek of a lacy bra?

As she desperately tried to get to her happy place, she became aware of something pressing against her hip that did not align with the usual pressure of a packed commute. She had not paid the man behind her much attention until then – he was the usual middle-aged manager in a suit that seemed to frequent that line, no doubt heading back to the suburbs to his miserable frigid wife and 2.4 children. She inwardly shook her head as she tried to get the bizarre thought out of her mind that the man was pressing his penis into her – it had obviously just been too long since she had last got laid, and her mind was starting to play tricks.

He mulled over what might happen if he should press his crotch against her. Would she cry out? Turn around and insult him?  Stamp her stiletto on his foot? Parisian women could be pretty forthright. The thought turned him on even more. There was now no hiding the fact that his cock was fully erect and pressing against her arse. He panicked, held his breath and waited for her inevitable reaction.

She tried to concentrate on what she would have to eat that evening. And yet…that was definitely a body part pressing into her, now with barely perceptible movement. She swore she could now clearly feel the outline; the long, firm shaft and the exposed head. Her first reaction was shock. She looked around the carriage surreptitiously,  but all the other commuters were wrapped up in themselves and nobody was paying her the slightest bit of attention. Why would they? The man was so close to her, with his briefcase strategically placed at groin height. Nobody would be able to see a thing. While these thoughts were shooting through her mind, the man’s initially tentative movements grew stronger and more confident. She knew she should cry out and draw attention to what was happening, and yet her mouth was dry and she felt paralysed. All she could think of was the way his cock was rubbing against her buttock with an increasing urgency. She was convinced she could hear his breathing quickening.

He could not believe that she had not reacted by now. All he could focus on was her arse and the way his cock was rubbing rhythmically against it. He wanted so badly to lift her skirt up, pull aside her panties and thrust his hard prick into her pussy in full view of all the commuters. Rip open her blouse and expose her tits to the carriage… The fantasy spurred him on, until he felt more brazen and more confident.

Quickly, and barely perceptibly, his hand brushed her other buttock, reached towards his crotch and, with a single smooth motion, undid his zip and grabbed his cock out of his trousers. It felt amazing. The feel of the extra friction from the rough cloth of her skirt against his throbbing head almost made him come instantly.

She could now more clearly feel every stroke of his cock through her skirt. She gagged slightly, yet something still compelled her not to move. Her thoughts were a mixture of curiosity and disgust.

The man placed a hand on her left buttock to steady himself as with a last, barely imperceptible, thrust of his hips he shot his load all over her skirt. As the train slowed towards the next station, he rapidly zipped himself up, bent forward, whispered “Merci, madame” and left the train.

With that she knew it was over, as quickly as it had begun. All that she was left with was a sick feeling in her stomach, a sticky wet patch on her skirt and a tingling in her cunt.

Fiction – Chemistry Studies

This is a story I wrote some time ago now that was originally published on the “Wordejaculation” site, which is now sadly defunct. Time to republish it (and another piece that I’ll post another time) here, I think.

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It was the summer of 2003. The summer when people finally started believing in global warming. The hottest summer in 500 years.

I was in my final year at university, sharing a flat with two others – Nickie, a med student who we never saw as she was always off doing whatever it is medical students do, and Rob,  who, like me, was in the final stages of finishing his Chemistry degree. He and I had been pretty much inseparable since Fresher’s Week, when we first bonded over Tequila slammers and a love of dancing “ironically” to Beyonce’s chart topper Crazy In Love.

Rob was a walking, talking cliché – tall, dark, handsome, athletic. He had the gift of the gab and was utterly charming. I don’t think there was a girl in our year that didn’t throw herself at him at one point or another. Ironically, this made me both incredibly popular with those who thought getting in with me meant getting close to Rob, and unpopular with those who couldn’t understand our platonic relationship and were jealous of how much time we spent together.

It was around the end of May that Rob started seeing Charlotte. He had of course been out with girls before, but I knew from the beginning that this was new. Charlotte was very different to the clean-cut  girls with blonde swishy hair that seemed his normal type. She was half French; petite, olive skinned with long dark hair and the most amazing pert round breasts and peachy arse I had ever seen.

One hot and sticky Monday, I let myself in to the flat to hear laughter coming from Rob’s bedroom. I put away my shopping, and headed for my room. As I passed Rob’s room, I noticed the door was slightly ajar and caught a good view of the bed, where the two of them were lying dressed only in their underwear, with Charlotte’s back towards me. I caught a glimpse of her round cheeks in the tiniest of frilly knickers and something made me stop and admire the two of them. The next thing I knew, Rob was pulling her towards him, kissing her neck and running his hands up her thighs.

My head told me to disappear and leave them to it, but I remained rooted to the spot. He slowly slipped her bra strap off her shoulder and started kissing her collarbone. She giggled as his mouth moved lower towards her right breast and one hand moved from the outside of her thigh to the inside, while the other moved to undo the clasp of her bra.

I was frozen; barely daring to breathe as I glimpsed the silhouette of her right breast, before Rob hungrily started sucking the nipple. Charlotte moaned slightly as Rob also cupped his hand around her left breast. I willed them to move around so I could see everything that was happening, but of course they were completely oblivious to both me and the increasing dampness between my legs.

As Rob continued to focus on her breasts, Charlotte ran her hand along his arm, across his chest and down towards the soft fluff of his navel. She let her fingers linger, teasing the short hair, and playfully sticking her fingers in his belly button before slowly running her index finger along the inside of the waistband of his boxer shorts. As she shifted slightly onto her left buttock, I saw the outline of Rob’s hard, erect cock straining at the fabric, with a delicious, barely imperceptible wet patch where his cock had dribbled. Charlotte’s hand wandered further inside his boxer shorts and I could just make out the way her finger ran up and down his shaft.  As she grasped it with both hands and pulled it out of his shorts, I had to stifle a moan. My pussy was dripping at this point, and I pressed my hand between my legs in the vain hope of – what? – certainly not stopping myself, I was well past that point by now!

Still kissing, sucking, stroking and teasing, they pulled off their last remaining items of clothing. They were now completely naked. They were such an amazing looking couple, and I could not get enough of the sight of both of them. I held my breath, silently willing them on to the next level. As Charlotte went up on her knees, I saw Rob’s cock, rigid and glistening through her thighs. As she gently rubbed her pussy against its tip, I felt my own hand lift up the flimsy dress I was wearing, push aside my soaking knickers, and push my fingers deep into my own juices. I stifled a moan as my fingers found my clit and furiously began to rub.

In front of me, Rob had grabbed Charlotte’s waist and pushed her down hard onto his cock. As she slid up and down, her movements hinting at the pleasure she was experiencing, I felt myself attempting to mimic the sensation by thrusting my fingers deep inside myself. The way her breasts moved, the way she thrust her head back and closed her eyes – these were things I felt for myself. I felt every movement of his hands exploring her body, felt his fingertips tracing her nipples, and felt every thrust of his hot prick as it carved through me. I bit my lower lip to stop myself from crying out as their lovemaking grew more frenzied. I staggered backwards, leant against the wall and gave in to the delicious sensations – my fingers on my clit, thrusting into my pussy and rubbing my nipples. As I felt the first shudder of orgasm tingling in my legs and my cunt, I opened my eyes for a final glimpse of the couple in front of me and drank in the view of her tits, and his cock. Charlotte let out a long, deep moan that instantly told me her climax too was close. Rob thrust into her one last time, and all three of us came with a delicious sigh.

I hid in my bedroom for the rest of the afternoon, too embarrassed to face the pair of them. It was only when I heard Charlotte leave that I dared venture into the kitchen, where I found Rob sipping a bottle of beer and flicking through the local paper.

He looked up as I came in, and grinned.

“Good afternoon?”
“Yeah, not bad” I mumbled, my face flushing at the thought of what I had seen and what I had done.
He looked at me thoughtfully and then said; “Well, maybe next time you would like to join us…”

That, however, is another story.

Fiction – Special Order

Every Friday lunchtime he took his sorry self to the café round the corner to see her. Without fail, he ordered a cheese and tomato sandwich, and a diet coke. A pathetic lunch for the end of another pathetic week. Self-pity wasn’t becoming, he knew that. His father had told him often enough; “Pull yourself together! Be a man!”. He didn’t really know what that meant any more.

His luck was in – she was serving today. She wore the same uniform as the other waitresses, except she had obviously tried to make the dowdy green skirt and blouse more appealing recently, by tucking and tightening to expose a bit of cleavage and giving more of a pencil-skirt effect, instead of the usual A-line. Her shoes were different too, he noticed. Being on their feet all day, the rest of the staff favoured comfort over style, but her black patent stilettos looked anything but comfortable. He wondered idly what it would be like to feel one of them pressing into his flesh, the sharp heel scraping the surface of his skin, and shivered involuntarily.

Completely lost in thought, he had not realised that she was walking towards him. Picking up his plate, she deliberately seemed to bend over so that he could not help but catch a glimpse of the tops of her breasts contained in her lacy bra.

“Gents. Now.” The command was a bark – quiet, so that the couple at the next table could not hear, but there was no doubting its forcefulness. Her face was passive, unsmiling, registering no hint of emotion. It was the first time he had really had cause to study her face up close. Her green eyes had a depth to them that didn’t betray what was going on behind them, and the rosebud mouth looked innocent enough. “Yes.” he said, waiting for her to distance herself to the back of the café.

He stood and made his way quickly in the same direction, heading for the gents toilets, hoping his excitement was not too obvious. His heart pounded as he opened the door. Once inside, he hesitated, hung his coat on the back of the door, and waited.

The door opened a minute or so later, and she came in, locking the door behind her. “Take your pants down”. It was the same quiet, confident tone, and again her face was expressionless. He obeyed quickly, unbuckling his belt, and unzipping his trousers. He hesitated slightly with his underwear, but a slightly raised eyebrow let him know she meant business.

As he stood there hoping for her approval, he knew deep down he would be disappointed. It was the first time her face expressed anything other than impassivity, and the half smile felt crueler than any outright open sneer might have done. She gestured behind him. “Sit down, open your legs”. He bit back a quip that he felt rising in his throat, an involuntary habit of his to defuse tension.

Standing in front of him, hands on hips, legs slightly apart, she surveyed him for a moment, and nodded. Reaching down to the hem of her skirt, she slowly started to roll it up her thighs. A loose thread hanging off the seam caught his eye, a reminder of the home-made alteration, a strange imperfection in her otherwise consummate appearance. Her legs were passable – her highly toned calves hinted at an ease with high heels, and her thighs were probably slightly chunkier than modern beauty dictated – but the confidence with which she now stood before him made up for any perceived imperfections.

She wore hold-ups under her skirt, nothing else. He was pleased to see that a neatly trimmed triangle adorned her pubic mound, while the rest of her cunt was fully shaved and exposed to him. While he tried to catch a peek of her labia, she came closer and put her hands on each of his shoulders. “Legs apart”, she ordered, and straddled him face on. They stayed like that for several seconds. He didn’t know where to look or put his hands, but desperately wanted to rip her blouse open and bury his face in her tits, yet her whole demeanour told him that would not be welcome. Instead he leaned back and gripped the edge of the toilet seat and waited.

He felt the warm liquid splashing his cock before he quite realised what was happening, little droplets of urine splashing his inner thighs as she pissed between his legs. The long, steady stream ran off into the bowl below him, and he closed his eyes momentarily to concentrate on the sound of piss against porcelain.

When she had finished, she shook herself slightly and smiled at him for the first time in the whole encounter.

“Lick me dry”

She stood up and offered him her cunt. He greedily licked the final warm droplets, interspersed with the musky juices that gave away her arousal. Before he got a chance to get too carried away, however, she took a step back, smoothed down her skirt, and headed for the door.

He waited in the tiny windowless toilet for her footsteps to recede and the heat of his face to cool down, before pulling up his clothes, grabbing his coat and heading out of the door.

Fiction – Construction

(As an aside, this one should probably also be known as The One In Which I Think I Probably Watch Too Much Porn, as it involves frankly slightly ridiculous stereotypes of big burly men in hard hats, and normally features a 70s-style soundtrack in my head when I play the scenario through.)

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“Eurgh. Thursday.” thought Jo, as her eyes started to focus on the room around her, and her ears protested at the hard-core dance music that appeared to be emanating from her clock radio. “Too early. Always too fucking early.”

She rolled out of bed and padded to the bathroom. Surveying her reflection in the mirror, she mentally made a note to make more effort to take her make-up off before going to bed. Just like she did every other morning. Squinting in the bright sunlight, she rummaged around in the bathroom cabinet for painkillers, and quickly downed them with icy water from the tap.

The shower was the one thing that worked in her pokey flat, and she stripped off and climbed into it,  luxuriating in the way the hard driving rivulets of water stung her body into a state that might actually pass as alertness. As she absentmindedly soaped herself with lemon-scented shower gel, she played back the events of the night before. There had been wine. Yes, lots of wine. Eurgh. Then shots with that group of guys. Double eurgh. No wonder her head was throbbing.

She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel from the hook on the back of the door. It would have to be instant coffee again – she really should get round to getting a new machine. Mornings like this were made for proper coffee; strong, dark and invigorating. The list of things that were already going wrong was getting longer, and it wasn’t even 7.30 yet.

Jo threw a slice of stale bread in the toaster and went to grab some clothes. She rummaged in her wardrobe and found the first top that looked like it might be vaguely presentable, and teamed it with a flared navy skirt. Simple, yet at least fairly smart for the office. Glancing at the overflowing laundry basket next to her wardrobe, she quickly decided against underwear. It was forecast to be a reasonably warm day anyway, and maybe some fresh air would do her some good – whatever it was blowing.

A slice of toast and some of her favourite songs on the radio helped lift her mood and she felt a little more human. Lashings of mascara and a slick of lipgloss ensured she also looked it. Jo grabbed her keys and her bag and headed out of the door to the bus stop. For once she wasn’t even going to be late!

It seemed everyone was out of town for the summer, and thankfully the bus had plenty of seats for a change. She put her bag down and collapsed onto the nearest one. The other passengers on the bus were the usual mix of elderly and commuters – no school kids at this time of year, thank God – the usual combination of strangers and familiar commuting faces. There was the woman who wore that awful pink lipstick that really didn’t suit her skin tone, and behind her the man that she occasionally bumped into at the corner shop being bullied into buying icecreams for his kids.

She didn’t recognise the man sat facing the back of the bus diagonally to her. He was maybe in his early 60s, Jo thought, with a shock of white hair and a dress-sense that seemed more up-to-date than his age implied. He was still handsome, and Jo could tell he’d obviously been a real heart-breaker in his youth. Or maybe he still was?

Her mental image made her unconsciously smile, and she blushed as she realised he was looking straight at her with a quizzical look in his eyes. She’d obviously made her interest in him too clear. Jo shifted uncomfortably in her seat and crossed, then re-crossed her legs. The movement reminded her of the fact she was not wearing underwear, and created a slight stickiness at the very top of her inner thigh. Older foxy man was now blatantly checking out her legs! Dirty old man!

Jo glanced out of the window and realised she was only two stops away from the office, when at the same time a wicked thought ran through her mind. Surreptitiously she tried to see if she could guess where her opposite number would be getting off. Dressed like that she supposed the likelihood was pretty big that he would be going further into the centre of town. She figured she was therefore pretty safe in what she wanted to do.

One more stop to go. She had to time it right or she would lose her nerve completely. Her stomach churned and she felt inwardly giddy. She’d never done anything like this. Well, not when sober anyway…

As the bus rounded the corner that meant she had a couple of hundred yards to her stop, Jo casually dropped her hands onto her lap. Gathering the soft fabric of her skirt in her fingers, she glanced around to ensure that the man opposite was the only person who would be able to see what she was doing. He was staring idly out of the window, and she wondered if he would actually even notice.

With one sure, slow movement she slid the fabric of her skirt up her thighs and quickly uncrossed her legs, exposing her cunt. She held her breath and blushed  a deep red as the man opposite turned his head because of the movement, and caught what must have been a full view of her glistening pussy.

The look of surprise and delight on his face would stay with Jo long after she got off the bus. That would give him something to tell his grandchildren, she thought…

___

The episode on the bus had made her giddy with excitement, and she practically skipped into the office. All morning she had to try to contain the fits of giggles that seemed to want to explode out of her at the most inopportune moments. Thankfully the office was suffering from the same empty August syndrome as the bus, and she spent most of the morning uninterrupted. Even though the whole thing had only lasted seconds, the arousal that had resulted from her little flash on the bus was acute, and she used quiet periods at her desk and trips to the bathroom to dip her fingers up her skirt into her dripping juices. It only made her hornier.

When it was time for her lunch break, Jo was glad to leave the office – she felt sure it was blindingly obvious to the few colleagues that were left what the only thing on her mind was that day. At one point she was convinced she was so flushed that the office maintenance guy was going to ask her if she had a fever.

She dashed out to the nearest sandwich bar and walked over the small green square that she liked to frequent in the summer, where she sat down on the grass and wolfed down her sandwich with a voracious appetite.

However, no amount of chicken salad on wholemeal could do anything to appease the hunger in her cunt. It was getting beyond a joke. Everywhere she looked she could see hot young office workers of both sexes flirting in the sun. She started to wonder if she was going to have to seduce Ben the IT geek in the stationery cupboard on her return to the office, things were getting that desperate. And all because of some stranger who was probably old enough to be her grandfather!

On her way back to the office, Jo realised that there finally seemed to be movement at the derelict office block across the road. She could see various men in hard hats pointing at sheaves of paper. About time too, the place was a complete eyesore, thought Jo.

She was staring absent-mindedly at the building, when she realised that one of the men was walking purposefully towards her, and smiling in recognition. Jo racked her brains as to where she might know him from, when finally it dawned on her that he had been one of the group that she and her friend had been drinking with in the nightclub the previous evening. She groaned inwardly as she wondered whether she had made a fool of herself, but reading the expression on his face decided against it.

He was maybe just under 6 foot, with floppy blond hair and deep brown eyes that twinkled out from under his hard hat. She could tell from the tan on his face and forearms that he spent a lot of time outside. Her eyes were drawn to the bulge of his biceps under his t-shirt. She had no control over the throbbing that instantly started up between her legs.

“Hi”, the man said as he got close, “it’s Jo, isn’t it? We met last night, at Fifth Avenue? I’m Greg”. As Jo opened her mouth to respond, he leaned in and grinned conspiratorially “I loved the fact you weren’t wearing any underwear”. “Fuck”, thought Jo, as she blushed bright red, then hesitated for a split second, before laughing and whispering back “I’m not wearing any now either”.

Had she really just said that? What was wrong with her? First flashing at respectable older gentlemen, and now this? She had to concede that Greg was a damn sight hotter than Ben the IT geek though…

She looked at the bemused expression on Greg’s face as he processed this piece of information. Jo guessed he hadn’t quite expected that reaction. She weighed up her next move. In for a penny, and all that… “want me to show you?” she breathed.

Greg’s grin grew wider. “Follow me”, he said, and led her round the back of the building. As she walked behind him, Jo had the chance to survey the way his jeans cupped his buttocks as he walked. With every step Jo made up her mind further that she desperately needed to get her hands on that body.

The back of the building contained a small courtyard, with sorry-looking raised beds that must once have contained flowers. Greg gestured to them; “hop up there” he beckoned, throwing his hard hat to the ground. She did as she was told, hoiking her skirt up around her hips at the same time, and spreading her legs. “I told you I wasn’t wearing any underwear” she laughed.

Greg grabbed her right thigh with his left hand while the other desperately scratched at the buckle of his belt. With a swift movement, he unbuttoned the fly of his jeans and pulled out his already erect cock. Jo’s pussy spasmed at the sight, and she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him towards her. With a slow, soft movement, she pushed her tongue into his mouth as he thrust his cock into her throbbing pussy with the same slow motion. Jo gasped as her aching cunt finally got its fill.

Greg’s movements were slow and steady at first, then grew wilder and less hesitant as  he responded to Jo’s moans. She wrapped her thighs tightly around his hips and drew his full length into her, willing each thrust deeper and harder.  Greg did not last long – his orgasm came quick and hard, and they clung together, panting for a few seconds. Finally he looked at her. “Sorry”, he mumbled, aware that his own orgasm had not waited for Jo’s. “That’s ok”, she smiled, shifting her buttocks on the uncomfortable wooden logs. She glanced up briefly to where she knew another man in a hard hat had been watching. “We can always try again later…”

Fiction – Thursday Rendezvous

The text came at 9.30, just after she had got back from the school run.

My meeting’s been cancelled. Am in the area. You around?

Her heart leapt. Yes, she texted back, Need to go out again at 2.30, so any time before then.

She let him in wordlessly, and they padded to the kitchen, where she put the kettle on and he griped about his boss. They took their tea to the living room, and sat down on the sofa, their legs entwined in a position of ease that surprised her. Over the course of the next half an hour, they slowly sank further into the cushions, until they were lying next to each other. They laughed and joked about colleagues of his and acquaintances of hers, and she ran her fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck.

His hand on her waist, he pushed her top up slowly, stroking the curve of her waist as they finally kissed. “I can’t. Not here.”, she said, trying to resist the electricity in his touch. His breathing grew heavier and he started to unbutton her top, and her resistance was half-hearted. The low-cut bra she was wearing made it easy for him to grasp her nipples between his fingers, and she moaned as he took one in his mouth. She tried not to think about his cock straining against the material of his trousers, but the feeling of it against her leg made it impossible. As he kissed and sucked, she closed her eyes and gave in to the sensations.

Moving his hand lower, he unbuttoned her jeans and slowly slipped his hand inside her soaking knickers. She held her breath as he delved his middle finger into the wetness between her legs. The first touch made her shiver. “Lower”, she whispered, and he smiled, angling his finger into the exact position she demanded. He rubbed her clit, gently at first, then with more urgency in line with her breathing, dipping in and out of the wet juices of her entrance, parting her lips and exploring every inch.

In the end she was surprised by how quickly she came – she couldn’t recall the last time it had been this rapid, or this intense. As soon as the waves of pleasure subsided, she could feel the tears of guilt run down her face.