The Christmas Exhibition (9 page)

             
I took her fingertips into my mouth, greedily tasting her insides upon them.

             
“God, baby, I'm gonna hate myself in the morning when I wake up sober and realise what I've done tonight.”

             
I placed my hands on her hips, spread her cheeks wide as I fucked her and scrutinized her tight, beautiful asshole. Perspiration pooled at her opening, lubricating her most sensitive of orifices. Easing, tantalising and teasing it for my consideration.

             
“Feeling their cocks... Dancing my ass against them... Making Sean jealous... Seeing a glimpse of his thick cock in his trousers... I'm gonna despise myself in the morning...”

             
My moment of no return approached. My testicles were tensing. My orgasm impending.

             
“... Coming home and taunting my boyfriend about his inexperience...”

             
The blood pumped suddenly to my head. My breathing grew ragged. My motions quickening inside her pussy.

             
“... How my temptations turn to other men... One other man... A guy I can't stand... And yet somehow I want to crumble before him and let him violate me... Treat me like shit... Cum... Piss... Cum... Oh my God... I want
his
cum...
His
...
Pi
-”

             
I came horrendously inside her. “Fucking slut!” I blasted, emptying my first load of spunk.

             
“You filthy bastard!” she cried, bucking her hips back against my length. “Cumming inside me without a condom.”

             
I flung my cock further inside her velvet temple, unloading multiple volleys of additional sperm.

             
“If you make me pregnant-”

             
I slapped her ass, fell forward and bit her exposed shoulder. “Shut up, slut!”

             
“Aoooow, Matt!” She was screaming in agony, throwing her strength to her shoulder, wishing to free herself from my clamping teeth. “Let go of me! Fuck!”

             
I clasped her waist, drilled my dick finally inside her and erupted one last, momentous spurt. I was grunting, sweating and stifling revulsion at her numerous revelations. The point of pleasure was passing. Riotous realisation was dawning upon me.

             
I pulled out of her, her pussy making a plopping sound as I left.

             
My girlfriend had been touched by other men.

             
My girlfriend had enjoyed being touched by other men.

             
“Slut,” I said, as Sean had said before me.

             
Jill fell flat on the coffee table, her breasts pressed down and squeezed out by the wooden surface. Her legs spread wide. My semen dripping out of her used hole.

             
I walked around to where her head rested, gently pulled her up to my spent erection and silently invited her to clean the mixture of my fluid and hers with her mouth.

             
Jill's sexual exhaustion and drunkenness was apparent. Her eyes glazing. Her mouth murmuring. Her tongue swirling around my cock head. Her lips sucked under my foreskin. “Mmmmmm,” she moaned.

             
My heart was compounded by terror. Thoughts of losing her spiralled my mind into a sudden abyss of abhorrence.

             
“I love your cock,” she whispered, her mind meandering.

             
Her pussy was perhaps more promiscuous than any hint she had ever dropped before dared reveal.

             
How much of her wanton behaviour could I accept?

             
How much further could she push her limits?

             
How much more would I embrace?

             
Her blonde hair bobbed back and forth, her lips engorging my length. “I love sucking cock,” she confessed.

             
What limits?

PART TWO

1

I had awoken sometime around 4:30am. Jill's mouth was wrapped around a pillow, her torso splayed out on the mattress and the duvet placed tantalisingly between the naked cheeks of her ass. I was restless, erect and unable to resist the temptation to sneak downstairs for a private masturbation session.

             
I dropped my boxer shorts to my ankles, shivered in the cold and grabbed my cock in my hand. The lager had worn off. My head was clearer. Though my mind was clouded by doubts of her loyalty. Interested by thoughts of her adultery. And determined by emotions which were distorted between intrigue, distress and excitement.

             
My hand mauled my muscle with reckless abandon, throwing my closed eyes into conjured images of Jill's dress barely covering her backside, roaming against the erections of the men she had danced with. The labourers she described as
real men
. The watchful stares of the others, waiting their turn. And Sean. Sean, waiting, watching and wanting. His frustration turning to anger. The descriptive word in his head billowing and bellowing inside.

             
“Slut.”

             
Jill's refusal to revoke any attempt he made upon her.

             
Her desire for him to touch her.

             
Her want for him to touch her.

             
Her
need
for him to touch her.

             
His cum.

             
His...

             
I came violently into my palm, streaming spunk between my fingers and over my thumb, dropping more onto the wooden floor below.

             
I leaned back for a few moments of respite. I would find the tissues soon enough. I would clean up. I would hide the evidence. Jill would never know the true arousal I found in her slutty behaviour.

2

“
You filthy fucker!” she shouted.

             
I heard her somewhere on the peripheral edges of a dream I was having about scoring a goal against Spain in the World Cup.

             
Jill picked the nearest newspaper from under the coffee table and smacked it against my naked knees.

             
I jolted upright, realising my boxers were still around my ankles and my spent cock shrivelled between my thighs. “Shit.” I looked to the mantelpiece. It was almost 10am.

             
“Who's a right little wanker?” she teased, showing no signs of the hangover I had anticipated. “Wanking over me, I hope.”

             
My mind was dreary, drained from the roots of reality by the remnants of a dream still failing to relinquish control to the waking world. “Yeah,” I muttered, then leaned forward and reached down to my ankles for my underwear.

             
“No, no, no.” Jill walked quickly forward, and placed the heel of her foot on my boxers. “You don't get out of it that easily, mister.”

             
I looked up to her, in awe of her beauty and drinking in the delightful display her morning wear provided. Jill's figure was tightly wrapped in a pink satin nightdress, hid over the shoulders by the wool of my unfastened dressing gown. Her acquisition of my clothing only serving to increase my awareness of the cold.

             
“What did you masturbate to?” she demanded.

             
My face scorched with further embarrassment, stealing the toil of the temperature away from my senses.

             
“It was me.” Her heel hit the floor, trapping my boxer shorts in between. “Wasn't it?”

             
“Yes, of course.” My chest heaved beneath a deep sigh. “It's always you, Jill.”

             
She laughed. “Tell me more.”

             
“That's what happens when a guy goes out with the most stunning girl in the world. He fantasises about her even when he's not with her.”

             
Jill smiled. “You're sweet, Matt, but that's not what I meant.” She reached down to her leg, scratched her knee and peeled back the bottom of her nightdress as her hand retreated. “I want to know what you were fantasising about me doing as you wanked yourself off in the middle of the night.”

             
I stared at her beautiful thighs, until she dropped the satin and robbed me of my glimpse.

             
She raised her foot from my boxers. “Don't pull them up,” she said.

             
I gulped, and nodded as her foot travelled higher between my legs.

             
“What did you wank over me doing?” Her nightdress rode higher on her legs.

             
I felt my body slowly sink into the sofa. “I relived last night.” My eyes were on full observation, focused on the gap between her legs and hoping for the merest glance of her pussy. “All of it.”

             
Her toes tussled with my todger. Jill's grin was widening. “Good.”

             
“Until I came.”

             
Her big toe pressed on the fullest part of my cock, pushing it between my hairy thighs into the sofa. “What did you cum to, Matt?”

             
“All the vile, disgusting things you wanted from Sean.”

             
She closed her eyes. Her nostrils whistled through a sharp intake of her breath. She paused. Then exhaled. “I was a filthy bitch with you last night,” she said, then looked down upon me, her eyes scrutinizing my naked form from the waist down. “I may have exaggerated some things.”

             
A wave of relief wrestled my thoughts away from my disappointments. She hadn't been quite the slut I had feared. I had thought. I had – and perhaps still – fantasised she had been.

             
“I
may
have exaggerated.”

             
My penis almost inverted beneath her, shrivelling under her debasement.

             
“I may just be telling you that so you don't get angry with me.”

             
My cock stirred under her footing.

             
“Ba-by,” she teased, failing to miss the fact.

3

Jill was lying back on a three-seater recliner in the conservatory when I brought her her first cup of tea of the morning. Her blonde hair was dishevelled, yet cascaded beautifully over her neck and shoulders to my dressing gown. Her face was pure, washed of mascara. A strap of her nightdress had fallen, revealing more of her sensational, perfect skin. Her nipples pushed against the material. Her legs were crossed, the satin stopping halfway down her thighs. Her knees were red, perhaps marked from the scrapes of the coffee table from the night before. Her feet bare and cold to my touch.

             
“Thank you, baby,” Jill said, taking the cup and looking ahead to the Christmas tree on the other side of the room.

             
“You should put socks on,” I began, sitting next to her and massaging her toes. “You'll catch your death in here.”

             
“I'll be fine, Matt. I put the central heating on as I passed. This room should heat up in no time.”

             
I did not share Jill's confidence in a waning from the onslaught of the winter weather.

             
She broke a foot free and fondled my cock through my boxers, finding a path inside the opening at the front.

             
“Jill...” My tone was wavering, at one second seeking composure and the following conceding to her lust. “Mmmmmm. That feels good, sweetheart.”

             
She sipped her tea, smiled and uncrossed her legs, delicately parting her knees.

             
I could see a hint of her pussy in the darkness under her nightdress. “Jill, you're not making this easy.”

             
The underside of her big toe pushed my cock back from my balls, encouraging it to stand to attention. “I haven't the slightest inkling of what you're talking about, Matt.”

             
I sighed, grinning against my own wishes. “We need to talk, Jill.”

             
Her foot was rubbing my cock to a full erection. “All I want to hear is how long it took you to cum when you wanked.”