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FIVE WORDS
Part Eight: February
Kelly sighed as she lay back in the deeply fragrant bath. She twiddled the hot tap to a halt with her toes, breathing in the aroma of lavender, jasmine and rose essential oils she’d mixed into the foaming water.
Life was good. She hadn’t been happier for as long as she could remember. It was good on so many levels. Chantal was settled in LA and embarked on her career. The worst of the English winter weather was over and the evenings were starting to get lighter again. She had found an idyllic house down in Portugal to become their second home. Above all, she and Mart had settled into a relationship that worked this time. Or seemed to work.
And yet, somehow she felt like she didn’t trust the script. It was like a movie where the ‘happy music’ and ‘sunset shot’ had come too early. You look at your watch and realise that there’s still a half hour to go until the end. And you figure surely the story can’t keep going that long with everybody smiling and happy. Sometime soon the creepy music will cut in once more and the camera angle will shift to reveal the shadow of an axe murderer standing, watching, waiting.
She disturbed the water with her hands so that it rippled up into her cleavage, the heat stimulating her breasts. The oils were reputedly aphrodisiac. Rose petals have long been used as confetti and to adorn lovers’ beds to encourage romance. She admired her boobs. Pretty good for almost 39 and a mom ! She’d lost a few pounds these past few months but all of them off her tum and bum. If anything she looked a bit fuller up top. She felt comfortable with other people seeing her naked. Her nipples had begun to harden with arousal.
Tonight was going to be interesting. She felt devilish. She reached out for her chilled champagne glass and took a sip. She smacked her lips.
Damn, life was good.
Mart pulled open the front door.
For a brief moment his mind went back to that evening in late October when he had opened the same door to Naomi and Nick. The same evening of the dinner party hosted when Ingrid had masturbated him at the dining table. He recalled cringing with embarrassment at being seen dressed as a butler by two of his oldest friends.
But this time it was different. Naomi stood there, resplendent in a full length fur-trimmed coat, her strawberry blonde hair piled up in a chic bun, lips glossy and a wicked twinkle in her pale blue eyes.
Alongside - or rather one pace behind - her, Nick stood dressed in a similar butler’s outfit of rented tailcoat, waistcoat and pinstriped pants. His gaze was firmly directed at his well polished black shoes.
“Good evening.” Nao said, sweeping indoors. Nick followed her.
“Good evening, Ma’am.” Mart replied, inhaling an intoxicating waft of expensive perfume as she passed.
“Here is my butler. He will take instruction from you this evening. Won’t you ?”
Nick nodded, finally glancing up. “Sure.”
“Er … no, Nick ! We talked about this.” She admonished him.
Mart watched Nick’s eyes dart towards him then back at Nao.
“S … sorry. Yes, Mistress.”
She gave both of them a placated smile. “Better.”
At that moment, Kelly appeared on the staircase. Mart felt his heart thump and his throat tighten. His wife looked stunning. Still pink from her bath, she was wearing the figure hugging dress that she’d worn to Alain’s restaurant once. And the new £30,000 diamond earrings that she’d purchased for herself without even telling him beforehand sparkled under the wall lights. For a fleeting moment he felt that familiar pang of loss. Nine months ago he’d have walked up and kissed her on the lips, gotten an eyeful of her tits, maybe even have cupped her butt in his hand. But now he wasn’t allowed to touch or ogle her without being invited first.
She merely held out her empty champagne glass for him to take.
“Nao.” She purred, lingering on the ‘nay’ and ‘o’ as two distinct syllables. “Welcome dear. You look gorgeous.”
The two women gave each other a couple of ‘mwah, mwah’ kisses on alternate cheeks.
Naomi held out her arms so that Nick could remove her coat.
“We’ll take two glasses of the Cristal in the drawing room.” Kelly said.
You could cut the atmosphere in the kitchen with a bread knife. Mart busied himself with the champagne. He looked longingly at the bottle of Roederer Cristal 1999 from a case of twelve he’d treated himself to a couple of years earlier. He poured out two glasses, feeling Nick’s eyes furtively watching his back.
“I’ll take these through, then I’ll be back.”
“Sure.” Nick mumbled in reply.
He carried the tray through the hall to the drawing room. Kelly and Naomi were sat opposite each other, talking excitedly. Mart saw with surprise that Naomi had lit a cigarette.
“Bring Nao an ashtray.”
He served them their glasses then scuttled around the cabinet for an old ashtray he knew they had somewhere.
“You know,” he heard Naomi telling Kelly, “I only ever gave up to please Nick. He really doesn’t like smoking. And I thought that as I was trying to get pregnant back then, it was the right thing to do.”
Mart found the heavy glass ashtray and placed it on the small table beside her. She glanced up but didn’t acknowledge him.
“But as that’s not going to happen, I thought, why not ? It’s not as if I smoke much. Only when I drink.”
“Which is quite often !” Kelly said, with a titter.
Naomi laughed out a plume of smoke. “Well, Kel, I took your advice literally. I know it won’t work if I just try to please Nick. I have to do what I want. Hence …” she held up the glowing cigarette.
Mart stood in the doorway.
Kelly waved him away with a dismissive gesture.
He left them to their drinks and conversation.
Now he had to face Nick.
“Well, who’d have thought, huh ?” he said, breaking the ice.
“Yeah.” Nick mumbled in reply, laying out the starter and cheese he’d bought as his contribution to the ladies’ dinner. Mart was doing their main course and drinks.
There was a long silence.
“Look,” Mart said eventually, “don’t be embarrassed. Not with me. I mean, you and I are the last people who should judge each other badly.”
Nick shrugged. “I know. It’s just …”
“Takes some getting used to.”
“Yeah.”
Another silence. Both men busied themselves in the kitchen.
“Do y …”
“Do y …”
They smiled, each suddenly speaking at once. It eased the tension.
“You first.” Mart said.
“Do you … have any regrets ?” Nick’s quiet voice was almost a whisper.
Oscar Wilde wrote that most people die of a sort of creeping common sense. Everybody discovers when it’s too late that actually the only things one never regrets are one’s mistakes. Mart was certain old Oscar was right.
“None.”
“Honestly ?”
“None at all, Nick. Well, not really. For the first time in my entire life I’m true to myself. Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad I had a normal upbringing, a great career, and I have a lovely daughter. I wouldn’t change any of that. But this is how I want to live the rest of my life. I really want it. Sure I miss some of the things I used to enjoy like free-time and fine wine but …” He shrugged. “But no, I wouldn’t change this either.”
Nick watched him stirring the sauce on the hob.
“So … you don’t regret the … denial. Chastity ?”
“Nope.”
Mart gave Nick a puckish grin and patted his own apron just below the waist to indicate he was wearing his CB.
“Or Kelly, you know … other guys ?”
“Especially the other guys, Nick. Strange but true. Sure it’s hard, physically, mentally, emotionally, but no. Amazingly, no regrets.”
“I couldn’t handle that.”
Mart shrugged good-naturedly. “It takes all sorts, Nick. So, go on then. What are you into ?”
Nick inhaled and gave him a shy grin. “Bondage. All my damn life. When I was thirteen, fourteen, I used to glance at the usual grubby mags the other boys were jerking off over and they’d leave me pretty unmoved. But add a few ropes or chains and even the plainest girl could get me going.”
Mart gave a reassuring smile. “Who was tied up ? Her or you ?”
“Her. Strangely photos of guys in bondage never did it for me. Photos of guys full stop, in fact. But one day I came across a written story about women dominating men, keeping them in chastity, and that was it. Nirvana.”
Mart nodded, turning the heat down on the hob.
“You remember the Gor novels ?” Nick asked.
“Sure do.”
A shrill ringing of a bell interrupted them.
“You’d better go through this time.” Mart said to Nick. “Top up their glasses. See if they want anything else.”
Kelly and Naomi composed themselves as Nick walked in. They waited in silence, stifling their giggles, as he refilled their champagne flutes.
“Are you helping Mart in the kitchen ?” Naomi finally asked.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“He’ll be fine on his own for a few minutes.” Kelly said. “Come here, Nick.”
She waited until he was standing just to one side of her. Raising her hand very slowly, she held his gaze, until her varnished fingernails were touching the zip of his pants. She smiled and pushed, feeling the hard resistance of a chastity device. Then, teasingly, she slid his zipper down.
“May I ?” she asked.
She made sure her question was clearly directed at Nao, not Nick.
“Be my guest.” Nao shrugged, cheeks flushed with excitement.
“Drop your trousers !” Kelly said, her teasing tone suddenly brusque.
Nick’s brown eyes squinted in confusion.
“Tch !” Kelly sighed, glancing disappointedly over at her friend.
“Do not … let me down.” Nao barked out the five words.
Shutting his eyes, Nick undid his buckle. Gradually he thumbed his pants down to his knees.
Kelly gave him an amused, encouraging nod. “Now those.”
She watched the tension in Nick’s jaw as he eased his briefs over the acrylic Exobelt tube and then down his legs.
“Open your eyes, Nick.”
She smiled and reached out to touch the hard plastic, flicking it.
“Suits him.”
Nao tittered, exhaling her tension. “You think ?”
“Oh yes. But the pubic hair has to go. It looks untidy. Incongruous.”
“That will itch.”
“So ? We shave our bikini line. Or wax. I like Mart hairless.”
Naomi fumbled her cigarette pack. “You heard, Nick. The jungle has to go.” She extracted a cigarette.
“Go light your wife’s ciggie.”
Nick began to pull up his pants.
“No.” Kelly said. “Shuffle over there. Small steps.”
She paused, watching. This was interesting. She felt like a Headmistress inducting a new teacher and pupil into her school. She really cared, really wanted them both to learn to enjoy it. Of course this lifestyle wasn’t for everybody. Not remotely. But there had to be so many people suited to this sort of relationship who would sadly never take the plunge. Fem domme or Male dom, it didn’t matter. Kelly wasn’t a feminist. She realised that it could just as easily be Master Mart and slave Kelly if the cards had fallen another way. But if two people like Nao and Nick were interested enough to experiment like this, then she felt duty bound to assist them.
Nick clicked the lighter.
“I think he should undress properly.”
“Yes.” Nao took a drag. “Take those and your shoes and socks off.”
They watched him strip to his tailcoat, waistcoat, shirt and tie.
Kelly chuckled. Her male friend of over twenty years standing looked ridiculous. Nicely ridiculous, but still absurd. “How long ?”
“Has it been on ?” Nao responded. “Four days.”
Kelly made a face. “Is that all ? Since he came ?”
“Yes.”
“And the time before that ?”
“Five days.”
“How did you let him shoot ?”
“Er … inside me. You know, s-e-x.”
“Any good ?”
Nao opened her palms, then flicked her cigarette over the ashtray. “Better.” She looked up at Nick, standing listening to her, then back over at Kelly. “You know, what used to piss me off was that we were only having sex about once every ten days, and it used to take him bloody ages to reach an orgasm. I’d be lying there, all interest gone, thinking about work or a crossword clue, while he humped on top of me. And I knew he’d been masturbating. That’s why he was so damn slow in cumming. Wasn’t it ?”
Nick lowered his head. “Yes, Mistress.”
“Mart was the same. Always checking his emails on the PC. Hah-hah ! Always checking the porn sites more like it.”
“Exactly. No more of that. Anyway, five days ago, he made me climax with his mouth first. Then he got inside me. And guess what ? He was done in two minutes ! I felt … you know … honoured. He’d saved himself for me and not wasted it on some 18 year Russian model and a piece of tissue.”
Kelly nodded approvingly. “I think it’s time we ate.”
An hour later, Naomi smiled as she sat back in her chair, twiddling the spoon in her cup, breathing in the aroma of rich, dark after-dinner coffee. This was fun.
Mart and Nick were now both naked from the waist down, standing like sentinels by the door, waiting to perform whatever task either she or Kelly ordered. If this was what it took to save her marriage, then why hadn’t they started years ago ?
“I think it’s time for the entertainment. Do you agree ?” Kelly asked her.
Nick’s Exobelt and Mart’s Gerecke had been unlocked and removed earlier. Both their penises hung in a semi-erect state, in the no man’s land between excitement and embarrassment.
Naomi wondered how her husband would measure up. She’d only ever known one other penis and that was a forgotten teenage memory. Her gut told her he was slightly below average; nothing shameful, but certainly no prize winning marrow.
“When did you last cum darling ? Remind me.” Kelly said to Mart.
“29th December, Ma’am.”
Kelly glanced over at her, giving a wink. “So, last year ?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“And how many days is that ?”
“Forty, Ma’am.”
“Exactly forty days and forty nights. Just like Lent. And you, Nick. Just five, correct ?”
“Er … yes, Ma’am.”
“Well, this should be an interesting match up. Gentlemen, you may start your engines.”
Naomi studied the expression on her husband’s face, the dilated pupils of his eyes in the candlelight. Would he be able to stomach this ? She watched him hesitate, mind evidently in turmoil. If she had given the order, she thought that maybe he’d have refused. But somehow Kelly’s greater experience and authority were enough to keep him in line.
Slowly the two grown men, both in their forties, started to tweak their penises. Their necks and cheeks flushed red with shame and a sheen of sweat reflected off their foreheads. Thumbs and index fingers caressed the crowns of their dicks, rhythmically pumping them up to size. Mart was evidently more able to cope with the humiliation. He skilfully stroked himself rigid within half a minute. Nick trailed, blushing and flustered, struggling to maintain a firm erection. Naomi soon realised that, not only was Mart’s body in better shape, but his dick was slightly bigger than her husband’s in both directions.
She squirmed, strangely humiliated, sensing out of the corner of her eye Kelly’s competitive gaze directed on her.
“The rule is simple. Winner takes all. The first man to make himself cum gets to shoot all over the floor. The loser gets locked back up without cumming. All clear ?”
Mart nodded, a peculiar focus in his green eyes.
Nick mumbled, grinding his teeth. “Yes … Ma’am.”
“Then you may begin.”
Of late, Kelly had begun surfing porn sites on the internet. She’d never been into magazines or videos, but the ease and privacy of her recently purchased computer and broadband link made research into this new lifestyle compulsive.
And one thing she’d noticed was, in stories how men who’d not had an orgasm for weeks, they were frequently described as shooting ‘buckets’ when they eventually came.
But her own limited experience suggested otherwise. Both Alain and James had seemed to produce copious amounts even when they performed twice or three times in a session with her. Yet Mart spurted less now than he had used to, as far as she could recall. It was as if, after eight months of scarce usage, his balls had simply decided on a manufacturing ‘go slow’.
When Mart came this time, he shot a single almost-white jet over the polished wood dining room floor. His knees buckled and his mouth hung open slack-jawed like a big dog.
“Let go !” Kelly barked at him.
His palm flew away from his shaft obediently and he screwed his eyes to focus on her, dedicating his submission to her. She gave him an imperceptible nod of approval. His dick was slightly thicker and clearly longer than Nick’s. The exercises and diet had got his body in better shape. And now he’d won the masturbation stakes. His reward ?
Hah, frustration ! In public. She could only imagine how hard it was for a man to stop half-way through. He let out a dissatisfied groan.
“Stop !” Alongside her, Naomi shrieked simultaneously at Nick who was still pumping away on his reluctant tool.
A rope of translucent drool was dripping at Mart’s feet. The tip of his dick was twitching, like a puppy seeking attention, to no avail. The single white jet and the small watery puddle were all he’d managed to expel.
Maybe if she’d let him continue stroking his shaft then more of the white stuff would have come out ? Maybe not. Perhaps she’d allow him to find out one day soon. In March, maybe ? Or April ? Who knows ?
Kelly turned her eyes to Nick, who had reluctantly withdrawn his fist.
“You snooze, you lose, Nicky boy.”
“I’m ashamed !” Nao muttered, stubbing her cigarette out.
Kelly glanced over in surprise. There was a hint of genuine reaction in her friend’s tone. She might just have been acting of course.
But on the other hand …
Later, after Nao and Nick had left, Kelly was lying face down on her double bed. She was talking into the telephone, although Mart was hunched on the bed too. He had his face buried between the globes of her upturned bottom, licking it reverently, while his right hand reached under to tease her engorged clitoris.
“Can you make it tomorrow ?” he heard her say.
He hated that she could speak as if he wasn’t there, and yet it thrilled him too. Pleasure-pain. He knew that it was part-act, but partly her genuine single-mindedness.
There was a pause while she listened.
“Goody. As early as you like. Breakfast ?”
Mart ran two fingers teasingly along her soaking labia.
“No need. I’ll send Mart round to pick you up.”
She reached behind with her left hand, pushing his head deeper into her anus. As usual she’d used the toilet before coming to bed.
“Sure. No problem. Yeah, he’s here now.”
Mart buried his tongue as if he was French kissing her.
“Silly ! I don’t think you should be jealous.” She wriggled on the end of his tongue, giggling. “He’s just laying our breakfast table, so to speak.”
Mart dared to shift his head so that he could slide his pouting lips along her rim down into her gaping maw. She shifted her thighs upwards, to give him better access.
“Can’t wait. See you then. Gotta go now. Nighty night. Mwah !”
He heard the blip of the phone call ending.
“Now …” she groaned into the pillow, “finish me off, you ass licking wimp.”
He kissed and began strumming her clitoris urgently.
“Yessssssssssssssss …” she hissed, buttocks clamping round his nose.
Naomi patted the bed.
“Come here.”
Nick sat down, hunched over in just his unbuttoned shirt.
“A penny for your thoughts ?”
He turned and gave her a wistful half-smile.
“What you expected ?” she asked. “Better ? Worse ?”
“I don’t know. I need to sleep on it.”
She kissed his cheek. “Sure. You want to keep … this on ?”
He glanced down at the Exobelt firmly securing his penis.
“Sure. It’s what I deserve.”
“Darling, it was a game. That’s all.”
“No, Nao. That’s just it. I didn’t think I would be able to do it. You know, stand there and jerk off. Or try to. But somehow I managed. It has to be like Kelly and Mart. Not a game.”
She lifted his face by his ears, stared at him.
“Is that what you truly want ? Like them ?”
“Not like them. No cuckolding. No extreme stuff. But in terms of commitment. And chastity. Yeah, just like them.”
They both sat in silence a few moments.
“What about me ?”
“What do you mean ?”
“Am I expected to be you know … chaste too ?”
“N … no. I’ll look after you … in other ways.”
She pouted. “You haven’t done that in twenty two years, Nick.”
“I did the other night.”
“That ? You licked me to one orgasm, Nick. You call that looking after ?”
“Then would you teach me ? How to look after you … properly.”
“You mean that ?”
“I do.”
She laid her head back on the pillow and parted her knees.
“Then you can continue lesson number one … right now.”
A few evenings later, Kelly and Jack arrived home at just after eleven.
It had been her first visit to Alain’s restaurant since she had split up with him. He had joined them for a jovial glass of champagne before dinner. Everything had gone okay; he’d treated Jack with customary Gallic charm. The restaurant was packed with couples, it being Saint Valentine’s Day.
Mart was waiting outside for them all evening in the car, producing an umbrella to shield her and Jack from the drizzle as he ushered them both into the back of the car.
They drove home in silence, aside from a few giggles and some rustling, as she and Jack kissed and groped on the rear seat like high school kids.
“Phew, I need some coffee.” She said, once they were indoors.
Mart brewed up a pot while she put a CD on the system. The sound of the King’s lush crooning filled the room.
“Dance with me.” She said.
Jack took her in his arms, kissing the top of her forehead.
She gripped his muscled butt, smiling at the hardness of his groin against her tummy. She started humming along to the words of the Dusty Springfield classic, sung by Elvis Presley:
“When I said I needed you, you said you would always stay
It wasn’t me who changed but you, and now you’ve gone away
Don’t you see that now you’ve gone and I’m left here on my own
That I have to follow you and beg you to come home.”
Kelly winked at Mart, who’d entered the room, carrying a tray. Instead of humming, she broke into singing, dancing slow in Jack’s clench.
“You don’t have to say you love me, just be close at hand
You don’t have to stay forever, I will understand
Believe me, believe me, I can’t help but love you
But believe me, I’ll never tie you down.”
She licked Jack’s ear. I’ll never tie you down, huh ? Oh Mart, yes I will tie you down, and right now !
It was the first time that she’d ever had sex with Mart lying underneath her, staked out in bondage. His wrists and ankles were tied to table and chair legs on the living room floor. She was squatting astride his head, buzzing from wine and coffee, listening to another Elvis track, slowly undressing Jack. He was straddling Mart’s waist, facing her.
So much of what she had read on the net about cuckolding these past few weeks missed the point. She guessed it was mainly fantasies or commercial formulaic rubbish for pay-sites anyway. She didn’t consider herself an expert. Not yet anyway ! But she did know one thing for a fact. Real cuckolding cannot be about man-hating. If you despise your husband or ‘wimp’, then you wouldn’t hang around to cuck him. To cuckold somebody properly, you actually have to love him. And therein lay the problem.
She helped Jack ease his shirt off and kissed his broad chest. He smelt of soap and pheromones. His strong fingers skilfully unclipped her lace bra, urgently pulling the cups away from her breasts.
And cuckolding isn’t about infidelity either. Tracy had got that wrong. To object to cuckolding as a breaking of marriage vows misses the point. Of course it has to be done consensually and carefully, but you don’t have to stick with a contract if both parties want to change it. ‘Infidelity’ is about one person having sex behind their partner’s back. But ‘cuckolding’ is about a person having sex in her partner’s face. She smiled. Literally !
The problem is that cuckolding involves loving your partner and most married women aren’t suited to fucking other men for fun. She hadn’t thought she was either, until she felt sexually and emotionally ready to enjoy the advantages such a lifestyle offered. Fortunately Tracy was the only one of her friends to have allowed Kelly’s behaviour to end their friendship.
Mart’s breath tickled her butt, making her shiver. She had told him not to lick her but just to lie there motionless. Jack’s hands lifted her hips, slowly guiding his erection into her. She sighed contentedly. He was a good size but she was sopping wet and ready for him.
They rocked together. Her bottom swayed along the hard ridge of Mart’s nose and chin and she put her arms up behind Jack’s head for rhythm.
Love is Love and Sex is Sex. Each to her and his own. She guessed that swingers at orgies knew the thrill of blending sex-with-the-person-you-love and sex-with-somebody-else at the same time. But this was a different, heightened buzz. You didn’t have to be a selfish egotist to appreciate the advantages of cuckolding your man over sharing him with another woman at an orgy.
Jack was really shoving it to her now. She pushed back to meet him, the two of them building towards twin peaks. It had been so rare for her to climax from intercourse during two decades of marriage. Yet, now she was often multi-orgasmic. She could feel Mart’s features contorting, his breathing ragged, as she bounced up and down on his nostrils.
Her brain started to explode. Her nipples were hard as coat hooks and the fluid in her loins was molten as lava. But the brain is the most important sexual organ and hers was swirling with the naughty thoughts this moment always brought. Fuck you, Mart. You’re locked up. Tied up. And I’m fucking somebody else. I’m free. Flying, up … up … up …
“Aaaaammmmm … yesssssssssssssssss …”. Half-shriek, half-hiss.
“Cum … yes … cum … yes …” Jack was bellowing in her ear.
Vaguely she wondered if he was talking to her or himself.
And then she felt the hot slurry of his orgasm in her pussy, like trying to douse flames with cordite. She shook her head to clear the hair from her eyes and smiled into his perspiring, grimacing face.
Then, ever so slowly, she lifted her butt and peered down at Mart.
Mart’s face was numb. He gasped another pittance of air from Kelly’s anus and heard the muted sound of Jack chanting ‘cum …yes’.
He realised Kelly had peaked and now Jack was about to unload. His weight was heavy across Mart’s ribs making it harder to breathe. Both of them were using his body like a trampoline.
At last, he knew they were done, clinging together in a post-coital mingling of fluids, slowing of heartbeats.
Then, ever so slowly, Kelly’s butt lifted and she leaned to one side, peering down at him over her shoulder.
Mart blinked, drawing in a lungful of fresh air. Kelly was clean and scented but an ass is still an ass. Her grin was lopsided, taunting.
She was so good at it that he had to keep reminding himself she was acting. And even if she told him ninety nine times that she loved him, the lingering one per cent of doubt lurked in a corner of his mind. He knew Kelly referred to Jack as just a fuck-buddy and friend-with-benefits, but …
She shifted, altering her position so that she was kneeling over his forehead, looking at him between her legs.
“Mmm …” she said. “Yum. That was a lovely Valentine Day’s present. Say thank you to Jack for satisfying me.”
“Er … thank … you … J … er … Sir.” He croaked.
Kelly grinned. “I think he was doing rather more than sniffing me like a dog, wasn’t he ?”
He grimaced internally. Half his lifetime ago, he objected to men like Jack sniffing around his woman, eyeing her up. But now he allowed men to mount her whenever she wanted.
“Yes … Ma’am.”
She stared down meaningfully at her neat triangle of pubic hair.
His eyes followed hers. A snail of pearly fluid was oozing from her red and puffy labia. The smell of eau de toilette and sweaty sex swirled in the air along with Elvis Presley’s voice in the background.
He parted his lips a fraction in response to the spark in her eyes.
Her abdomen muscles tensed and she exhaled, squeezing her insides. The trickle of semen increased to a flow down one side of her thighs.
“Say please.”
“Pl … please, Ma’am.”
It was never hard to humiliate himself at moments like this. It was later, in the dark, when the heat had cooled, that he felt shame in the rational part of his brain.
She lowered her hips until her pubes lightly brushed his nose.
He stuck out his tongue, licking her upper lips first. He found it easier that way. Like he was only performing cunnilingus. If he touched the semen first it seemed almost like giving a blowjob to a man. Inevitably though, within moments, he moved lower and tasted the salty tang of ejaculate. Jack’s ejac … ! Funny how word-plays came to you at the strangest moments.
He slid his tongue over the ‘v’ of her vagina to the small river running down her leg, lapping it up, until her skin was clean. Lick and swallow, lick and swallow, screw the eyes shut and block out the mind.
He felt Kelly moving above him, necking Jack. Worse, he could feel Jack’s dwindling and contented erection resting damply against his waist.
And meanwhile Mart’s own genitals throbbed. There was the familiar tightening inside his body, the triggers from his brain to his prostate all working fine. But his dick was unable to obey orders, secured as it was inside the best German steel, tight and unyielding.
Suddenly Kelly’s fingers were between her legs, in his face, splaying her labia wide apart. Her weight came down fully onto his head again.
He sucked in a breath and stuck out his tongue as far as it would go.
“This is all getting a bit samey.” Kelly said.
He nodded. Unsure of what to say. “Er … yes, Ma’am.”
It was the last week of February, a warmer, early Spring morning.
He held the funnel and glass bottle as she released a torrent of urine. It was dark and ammoniac, her first gruesome piss of the day.
She watched him cork the bottle and label it.
“I’m finding this routine dull.”
He kissed her labia dry of salty drops and pulled up her black thong.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she continued, walking to the basin, “I enjoy everything we do. But I think we can now take things up to another level.”
He watched her begin brushing her teeth.
He’d felt this coming a few days. It had started with her period, the day after Valentine’s. She had never been particularly moody but her time of the month always made her more introverted and silent. He’d spent long hours massaging and pampering her without any sex involved at all.
But something was up. There had been several secretive phone calls, whereas she usually spoke to anybody about anything in his earshot. She had gone out most of the previous day without saying where or what for. Mostly, though, it was intuition. Her mind was occupied.
She spat out toothpaste, gargled water and rinsed.
“Jack has agreed to take you on trial.”
Mart did a double take. Trial ?
She wiped her lips on a hand towel and smiled.
“Yes, Mart, trial. As in job. Probation period.”
Another job ? Fuck. Jack was some city trader type. Oil or commodities.
“Jack’s starting his own broking firm. Just him.” she sighed. “And you.”
He glanced at her, searching her eyes for a sign she was fooling. But he found none. Only a vaguely amused and resolute expression.
She turned around in just her thong and stood while he helped her into her black bra and fastened it, then her clothes, item by item.
Eventually, fully dressed she turned to face him.
“You will be Jack’s PA and receptionist.”
The next morning, he left home at 6.15 a.m., to drive to the station, and then an hour’s train commute to the office space Jack had rented.
It was a little before 8.00 when he arrived at the undistinguished, modern office block. Jack had taken a fully serviced suite on the second floor.
Mart knocked on the door with a JAG Trading Ltd sign.
“Hi.” Jack said, opening up, a phone cradled under his ear. He carried on his conversation while Mart looked around the room. There were two desks, two office chairs, a threadbare sofa, a large filing cabinet, table with coffee and tea equipment, and a window with a view over a scrap metal yard.
Jack finished his call.
“Hi.” He said again. “Welcome. Kelly explain everything ?”
“Er … maybe.”
He held out a key to Mart. “Eight till late. You open up and lock up. Tend the phones. Put calls through to me on my cell if I’m out. Some typing, set up and maintain all the files, handle my diary and emails. My old secretary has agreed to start in a month but … until then, mate, Kelly said you’d do it. Okay ?”
“Um … I guess.”
Jack winked. “The financial arrangement’s between me and her. Oh, and I take my coffee black, one sugar.” He pointed at the table.
Mart took the hint and flicked the kettle on. Jack’s phone rang and he answered. Mart brewed a coffee and added a spoonful of sugar as Jack’s call ended.
“Here … er, Sir.”
“I think it should be Jack here, okay ?”
“Kelly said I must insist on calling you Sir.”
Jack shook his head. “Phew, okay. She’s a dragon that missus of yours.”
And so the long day began. There were just the two of them. Phones rang constantly, and often Jack was on one call, while Mart had somebody waiting on the other line, sometimes two people. He was rarely asked who he was. It was just assumed he was a junior colleague or assistant. He set up a filing system and a Contacts database.
Jack went to lunch from 12.30 to 2.15, while Mart munched his way through a dry cheese sandwich he’d brought with him, washed down with a plastic bottle of Kelly’s piss.
At moments like this he sometimes asked himself, why ? He could easily flush her acrid fluid down the toilet pan and drink tap water instead. She would never know. She almost never even asked him. She just assumed. And that was part of the reason he never deceived her. But above all, it was because ‘he’ would know. He knew deep down that he could end this all tomorrow, if he wanted to. But he didn’t want it to end, so he had to obey her, or do his utmost, even if he could have got away with something.
He belched, puckering his face as the bitterness savaged his taste buds.
It was after 7.00 p.m. when Jack closed his briefcase and dashed out, late for an evening appointment.
“Lock up, Mart. Gotta go. See you bright and early tomorrow.”
It was past nine when he unlocked the door at home.
The house felt empty, brooding, silent.
He turned on the light and saw the note on the hall table.
Five Words.
“Gone for a break. Behave !”
The house lay in the hills north of Faro, about 10 kilometres inland from the Portuguese Algarve coast. It was simple but beautiful; a whitewashed building, with a bougainvillea-clad deck and swimming pool, all set in a hectare of olive trees. Although it was only late February, already there was heat in the sunshine and sweet scent in the light breeze.
Kelly sat at a table on the deck with the plans laid out in front of her.
Her architect leaned in, pointing out his suggestion with a ruler.
Their shoulders touched, transmitting a surge of electricity through her.
This was different. This was dangerous.
She did her best to quell the excitement in her nipples, hard and visible in her bikini. She was dressed in just a swimming thong and bra, with a sarong wrapped round her waist.
She hadn’t fucked him. Ever. But this was the closest they’d ever been. All it would take was one moment, one … mistake …
He turned and gave her that easy, glorious womanising smile.
“What do you reckon ? Knock down this wall and make a huge master bedroom ?”
She gave a throaty murmur. “Sounds good.”
“Or … should that be Mistress bedroom ?” he teased.
She nudged him, feeling the voltage surge again.
He turned his head and looked at her, his Tom Cruise grin effortless.
“Maybe …” she croaked, “… we should go check the room out ?”
Jack’s cell phone trilled. Mart was typing a contract note for a trade.
“Hi !” Jack said, in a voice clearly designed to attract Mart’s attention.
“Where are you ?” he asked.
Mart guessed it was Kelly calling but he continued two-finger typing.
“Really ? Cool.” Jack replied. “Yeah, business is great. Yeah, he’s fine too.”
There was a ten second silence while Jack listened.
“Sure.” He proffered the phone to Mart. “She wants a word.”
Mart rose off the typing stool and accepted it.
“Hi.”
“Hi, darling.” Kelly said, sounding as if she was next door. “Are you behaving yourself ?”
Her voice was skittish, almost girlish, like she’d been drinking.
“Sure.”
“Good boy. I’ll be back in a few days. I’ve bought a house.”
Mart gasped. It wasn’t the fact she’d bought a house so much as the fact she’d never even mentioned anything to him.
“Bought ? You mean signed ?”
“Of course I mean signed. All completed. It’s ours.”
“Ours ?”
“Mine and Chantal’s. The lawyers suggested that she have a share. Something to do with tax law here.”
“Oh … where are you ? Where is it ?”
She gurgled, half-laugh, half-groan. “Mmm … a surprise, darling.”
“Wh …”
“Pass me back to Jack, Mart. And remember, behave !”
Kelly reached out and fumbled the old-fashioned phone onto its stand. She was astride him, his hardness buried to the hilt inside her. His fingers playfully stroked her nipples, his eyes shining up at her.
“And remember, behave.” He mimicked, admiringly.
She laid a finger on his mouth to hush him. His lips were soft but masculine. She had always wanted to kiss them. Ever since the time at Chantal’s fifth birthday party when Mart had interrupted.
“Don’t talk, Dyl.” She said. “Just fuck me, please.”
It lasted less than three minutes, maybe two. And yet it was the perfect fuck. Her Best Man. Over twenty years of pent up desire. The forbidden fruit of Mart’s best friend. He’d always wanted her and she’d always desired him. At last, she had caught him between his cute dates. And Alain, James, Jack, all faded into insignificance for her. He was The Stud. Dylan.
Knock, knock, knocking on heaven’s door.
She felt his pulsing flesh filling her up with his illicit bliss.
“Yesssss.” She pumped manically up and down until she climaxed ten seconds later, collapsing in a sheen of sweat onto his chest.
The pool was unheated and the water was murky and cold, but they dived in and swam, laughing and splashing like teenagers.
Afterwards, they shared the single large towel and lay in the sun to dry.
“Is this a one off ?” he asked, breaking the silence.
She paused, staring into the cloudless sky.
“Is it my decision ?”
He stroked her tummy in a way that made her feel good about herself.
“Yes. It is.”
Oh boy. A week ago, she’d been clear what she wanted. But then she’d stupidly thought of the only architect-cum-designer she knew and phoned him. Dylan.
“That wasn’t just a fuck, was it ?” she said. “A casual fling ?”
He looked at her. His teeth were like piano keys; white and perfect.
“No … it wasn’t.”
I’m sorry, Mart. I’ve screwed up again. And there’s nothing I can do.
“I’m married to your oldest mate, Dyl.”
He tilted his head at her, in a sad smile.
“But this is different, Kel.” He lifted himself onto his elbows and kissed her gently. “You won’t be running out on your husband. There are two ways this could go. It could be terrible for Mart, his wife running off with his best mate. Or it could be fantastic for him. His ultimate fantasy realised. Becoming slave to the two of us !”
She moaned into his lips as he ran his fingers up between her legs.
“Mmm … I’m not usually like this Dyl. You know me. Cold Kelly. Wasn’t that what your crowd called me behind my back ? I never needed sex until this all began. But now … please …”
But it wasn’t him she was apologising to.
It wasn’t even Mart.
It was herself. The woman she’d once been. She felt guilty and yet the urgent need was too strong. The best of both worlds. That’s what she could have. She never had to choose any more.
He smiled, gently easing her back onto the towel.
“Don’t worry. It will be a pleasure.”
Unngh. She gasped as he thrust into her. His lips joshed her cold nipple.
“I can’t wait.” He murmured.
“What for ?”
“To do this in front of Mart.”
Nmnmnm. Her eyeballs rolled in physical and mental turmoil. He started thrusting rhythmically, in, out, in, out.
“B … but … you …we … m … must … all … st … stay … fr … friends.”
She opened her eyes as he reared up on his outstretched arms.
“Of course, Kel. This is what friends are for !”
And she gave in to the moment, surrendered to the future.
Que sera, sera.
End of Part Eight
To be continued in Part Nine (March)
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