The Christmas Exhibition (24 page)

             
We heard Sharon, Nici, George and Billy. Where were they headed? What if they found us?

             
Jill's fingers slid over Sean's spunk as she abruptly withdrew from me. She pushed my chest with her left hand.

             
I fell out of her.

             
“I definitely did!” insisted the distant sound of Sharon's voice.

             
I crouched, grabbing my trousers, as Jill jumped to her feet and hauled her miniskirt over her ass cheeks and her dripping, cum-drenched pussy. She shook her dishevelled hair, straightened her skirt and kicked her crotchless red panties under a filing cabinet.

             
Her left hand took my right. She squeezed. Smiled. “You came in me again.”

             
Then we ran towards the corridor.

             
Jill stopped at the door of the storeroom, and turned towards me. “Baby, I'm sorry. I love you. You're amazing.” Her tongue invaded my mouth, kissing savagely.

             
The voices in reception grew louder. Animated.

             
I broke the kiss.

             
Sharon was staring. Billy pointing drunkenly. Nici suppressing a giggle. George frozen to the spot.

             
As
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas
played from the office above, Jill popped the forefinger of her right hand onto her lipstick-clad lower lip, slid it gently into her mouth and closed around it, sucking the drying sperm of another man onto her tongue.

             
She gulped.

EPILOGUE

I was thankful Sean was leaving the country. That episode in the storeroom of Jill's work had been exciting – hell, it had been ground-breaking and exhilarating – but I couldn't come to terms with the possibility of it happening again, or escalating, without my presence. Despite Jill's assertions that she despised him, I couldn't help feeling under threat from him. His absence secured the end of her temptation.

             
We relived the events of the staff party several times over the Christmas holidays, and well into the new year as Sean became her fantasy fuck buddy for some time. Often she and I would fuck as she closed her eyes and imagined it was him pounding away at her. She squirmed, calling out at him/I to stop and erupting in an orgasmic fury as I ignored her protests. Jill said she was never certain of her attraction to him, but confessed it came from a dark part of her personality. One she would never acknowledge in real life.

             
“Have you explored that part of yourself before?” I asked, post-coitus in bed one evening.

             
Jill stared at the ceiling. There was a nervous ripple under her eye.

             
I propped myself on one elbow, leaning over her face. “Have you?”

             
A deep, anxious exhalation left her body.

             
What part of her adventurous past was she reliving?

             
“I'm not saying,” she whispered finally.

             
I pulled her negligee over her waist and reached down to cup her pussy, slipping my second and third fingers inside her.

             
“Oh fuck, Matt.” Jill turned her head. “Kiss me.”

             
I licked the inside of her lips, fighting off the advances of her tongue.

             
“Don't tease,” she wheezed.

             
“Tell me about your past, Jill.”

             
She whipped her neck away from mine. “No.”

             
“What was it you said a few weeks ago?” I thought back for several seconds, pleasuring her pussy and hitting her clitoris with the heel of my hand. “You were trying to convince me not to go to your Christmas party. Jeez, Jill, you were offering every outfit under your roof. I was having none of it, though still you continued. You were pulling out all the stops.”

             
Her breath was a concoction of frustration and arousal.

             
My fingers danced across the outer lips of her labia. “You said you'd unlock your biggest secret...”

             
Jill shut her eyes and sealed her front teeth on her lower lip.

             
“What was it you said, sweetheart?”

             
She shook her head. Moisture fell from one eye.

             
I pressed my fingers deeper, and scratched the surface of her sponge.

             
Jill took a sharp intake of breath. “Oh God...
Don't
... I can't take it.” Her body relaxed. Her legs spread further. She surrendered to my touch.

             
“You said he used to make you wear a second skin body suit. You said it covered you from head to toe, Jill.” I cleared my throat. “You said it was in this house.”

             
“I threw it away.” Her pussy pushed outwards, allowing my fingers to delve deeper.

             
“You're lying, Jill.” I rotated my fingers on her sponge. “You said he was a man you'll never admit to seeing. You said he owned your pussy.
My
pussy. Who was he?”

             
Her eyelids tightened.

             
I pulled at her sponge.

             
Juice gently oozed over my palm.

             
“Go on, sweetheart.” I kissed her beautiful forehead. “I can keep a secret... You
know
I can keep
all
your secrets.”

             
“
He
...” Jill's voice fell silent, her face contorting with the contagion of her anticipated confession.
“I think...” She spoke at but a whisper. “I
know
...
He
was the instigator of... Wait... Do you remember I asked you if it was possible... If it was possible to want to fuck someone you didn't even like?”

             
“Yeah,” I said, humping my heel harder against her vulva.

             
“
He
was the instigator of those impulses. The ones I experienced again for Sean.”

             
“What age was
he
?”

             
“It doesn't matter, Matt.”

             
“Tell me.”

             
“Never.”

             
I would find out. Someday. I was determined.

             
“I'll never tell.”

             
The man who had possessed her cunt as his property. I would discover his identity. It was inevitable.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

The first draft of The Christmas Exhibition was written over the course of four weeks from mid-October 2012 to mid-November. It was my intention to create an erotic tale from earlier in Jill and Matt's lives than when we meet them in The Uncertain Cuckold. To explore more of their insecurities and fantasies in their past.

             
I hope you agree that the story works as a stand-alone title. It is not necessary to have read The Uncertain Cuckold.

             
I also hope that you will now wish to read more books featuring Matt and Jill, if you haven't already.

             
I plan to continue crafting them as long as the wonderful support from my readers continues. Thank you, friends, you are all wonderful. I cannot demonstrate how grateful I truly am for each and every one of you.

             
I only hope my stories are worthy in reply.

Yours,

V T Vaughn

My blog –
http://vtvaughn.wordpress.com/

Follow me on Twitter – @vtvaughn_writer

PREVIEW OF

THE UNCERTAIN CUCKOLD

The Uncertain Cuckold is set approximately six years after the events of The Christmas Exhibition. Please enjoy this free reading of chapter 1 (of 16).

CHAPTER ONE

1

I lay under the duvet and watched my fiancée stride naked into the bedroom, her body fresh from a bath. She approached her drawer of sexy underwear and peered inside. Her figure was insanely gorgeous. She was slim with a voluptuous ass. Her legs were beautiful, her waist tight and her tits small and perky. She hated me calling them small, often threatening to save for a boob job, but they were perfect for fitting in my mouth. She was 31, two years older than myself.

             
“I wonder what I should wear,” she said, turning to face me with her hands on her hips.

             
Her pussy was shaven bald, something she had obviously done in the bath. Something she had done without my prior knowledge. And certainly something she had done without my consent. I loved her pussy in all kinds of fashion, though. Whether it was bald, hairy or cropped.

             
Jill's blonde hair cascaded down as she pulled out a pair of boy shorts. She slipped them up her legs until they clung to her hips and accentuated her magnificent rear.

             
“Do you remember that guy on the internet who bought me these?” she teased.

             
I was erect. Her history of male admirers on the web was something we rarely talked about anymore. She had never met up with any of them. Instead, she had engaged them in back and forth e-mailing, swapped photographs and even sold some pairs of her used panties. Many of the men posted her lingerie and chocolates as gifts. Jill's self-confidence had soared, and the rewards were all mine in the bedroom.

             
“You may masturbate over me,” she said, eyeing me through the mirror. “But do not cum.”

             
My cock strained against the duvet. My bulging balls ached and indulged by her dominant tone. I was suffering the effects of her enforcement of a sex ban which had lasted for several days.

             
“I'm saving myself,” she had said.

             
I seized my cock in my hand.

             
That I was not the man my fiancée was saving herself for sent shock waves to my loins.

             
“What about these?” Jill was holding up the skimpiest of g-strings with a pink garter attached.

             
I nodded, almost begging for her to wear them. I had tried to touch her several times all week, but each time I was dismissed and teased that her body temporarily belonged to someone else and only when that someone else had enjoyed the pleasure of it would it be returned to me. She enjoyed mocking and playing with me. And I too was addicted. “I'm going to be for him everything you wish I'd be for you,” she promised.

             
The sperm in my balls warned they were rising. My resolve was tested. The moment of no return agonisingly close. My hand slacked, then fell altogether into an excruciating, static slumber.

             
Jill watched, understanding the agony of my actions, and laughed. “If you
dare
cum, Matt... I
mean
it.”

             
We had a great relationship. One which few could appreciate or emulate. Neither of us had ever been truly unfaithful. Everything we had ever done had been either with the other's approval or so small it wasn't worth the hassle. We had occasionally swung with another couple. A married couple. The ladies would sometimes do things together, my fiancée once even going as far as to 69 the wife. But it was her lust for the husband, and him for her, which truly turned me on.

             
“Is this cute?” Jill asked, giving a twirl.

             
“Very,” I croaked, concentrating on the garters. “You should put on your matching stockings.”

             
Jill paused, then clasped the g-string with her fingers and pulled it off. “I've got a better idea.” She looked at me, a devilish smile on her face. “You're going to hate me when you see this.” She disappeared to the spare bedroom.

             
The man she was dressing for was called Gary. He was the husband of the couple we had previously experimented with. For years he had told me how he desired Jill, complementing her often and reminding me how lucky I was. His wife was attractive, but she wasn't in Jill's league. I couldn't help passing Gary's words on to Jill, nor to control my stiffness when she would reveal how she often fantasised about having him to herself for a night. It was only since Gary's marriage had hit a particular rocky patch, the depths of which we were unsure, that he and Jill had begun texting on a regular basis. They did it only during the day, when both were at work. I got to read the messages – after all, it was I who had first suggested the contact – and the arousal was tremendous. There was a hint of jealousy within, but I embraced it. This was one of my all-time greatest fantasies, and the doubt only served to strengthen the severity of the reality.