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The tooting of cab
drivers, frustrated by the tourists and the seasoned London
shoppers who bumbled out in front of them on to the busy roads,
competed with the jabber of thousands of voices. And faintly but
clearly, if you listened, the megaphone-enhanced call of a street
evangelist flogging tickets to heaven; it was just another a
background noise until you got within ten feet of the preacher
himself.

Let’s look
awhile, sisters and brothers, at Proverbs 5, in which we are warned
against the dangerous enticement of a seductress and the temptation
of adultery. No one is immune to sin and we must look towards
biblical wisdom so that we may preserve passion within marriage and
be prepared to resist the allure of infidelity.

My sons, pay attention
to my wisdom, turn your ear to my words of insight, that you may
maintain discretion and your lips may preserve knowledge. For the
lips of the adulterous woman drip honey, and her speech is smoother
than oil; but in the end she is bitter as gall, sharp as a
double-edged sword.

Her feet go down to
death; her steps lead straight to the grave. She gives no thought
to the way of life; her paths wander aimlessly, but she does not
know it.

Now then, my sons,
listen to me; do not turn aside from what I say. Keep to a path far
from her, do not go near the door of her house, lest you lose your
honour to others and your dignity to one who is cruel, lest
strangers feast on your wealth and your toil enrich the house of
another.

At the end of your
life you will groan, when your flesh and body are spent. You will
say, “How I hated discipline! How my heart spurned correction! I
would not obey my teachers or turn my ear to my instructors. And I
was soon in serious trouble in the assembly of God’s people.”

Drink water from your
own cistern, from your own well. Should your springs overflow in
the streets, your streams of water in the public squares? Let them
be yours alone, never to be shared with strangers.

May your fountain be
blessed, and may you rejoice in the wife of your youth. A loving
doe, a graceful deer – may her breasts satisfy you always, may you
ever be intoxicated with her love.

Why, my son, be
intoxicated with another man’s wife? Why embrace the bosom of a
wayward woman? For your ways are in full view of the Lord, and he
examines all your paths.

The evil deeds of the
wicked ensnare them; the cords of their sins hold them fast. For
lack of discipline they will die, led astray by their own great
folly.

Megan knew the
voice. Not at first, no, but as she got close enough to hear the
words through the megaphone distortion, she recognised the tone,
the slight lisp, the verbal nuances, and she knew for sure whose
face she would see extolling the joys and the sanctity of marriage
while condemning her and her like to the flaming pits of hell.

She leant against the
railings near Luke_66, watching as he ranted and spat his beliefs
at the passing masses. At first she thought she would simply slink
past and fade away, but the more she watched, the more she knew she
could not.

She wanted him to see
his sexy, sinful Sister_Suzy as she walked past, less than two feet
away from him, and certainly closer than any other passer-by had
dared to venture, and although his voice barely registered it – a
tribute to his consummate professionalism, which she couldn’t help
admiring – she knew that he had.

It’s not uncommon
for those who flit through the murkier reaches of the internet to
disappear occasionally – when a real-world identity is threatened,
for example, or when someone gets a bit too close too soon – and it
was three long weeks before Megan ventured back online.

Nikki was not the
first narrow escape she’d had, but it was the one that shook her
the most, so the period of abstinence left her with no withdrawal
symptoms whatsoever. In fact, over the first fortnight, she was
awash only with gratitude and relief.

It was only towards
the end of this short period of being re-rooted once again in the
physical world that the jitteriness started to set in; the
fidgeting making way for a snappy irascibility that only a fix
could cure. And so, as the feeling of danger passed and the need
for a high increased, she was slowly tempted back into the dark
digital corners. Conflicting voices in her head fought the battle
for another week, but in the end, having opted against the clean
slate of starting a new profile, there she was, Daddy’s_BiGal,
tiptoeing about and taking her first tentative look around PhetX in
weeks.

While she hadn’t been
active, her profile had remained live, its own entity, and she
returned to 78 new message strings. Most of these were junk,
holding no interest whatsoever, and she worked her way methodically
through them, deleting most, while setting a few to one side
perhaps to consider later.

SPH37:
Okay, okay, I hear what you’re saying about the
guy, as a human being, being the most important thing to you. But
seriously… you truly think that most women would agree with you?
I’ll be honest here, BiGal – it’s not my own experience. Yeah, you
can say I’m being oversensitive or paranoid or whatever, but, come
on – can you honestly say your eyes would light up if you reached
the jiggy-jiggy part of a date and this is what appeared? I’ve
photographed it next to a fairly medium-sized banana (yeah, I know,
I know… it was the first even vaguely relevant thing I found and
purely done for a bit of perspective) so you get the idea. Now,
please, be honest here… tempted? Ha! SmallPenisHumiliation
x

NOvanillaME:
Hey, great profile! You sound like my
kinda BiGal, lol. I’m a lonely dom without a sub. Long story.
Complicated, of course, like these things generally are, but we’re
still good friends. Take a look at my profile, please, and see what
you think. She’s here too, online, so if you don’t fancy me, she
might be more your flavour? Lol. Looking forward to your response.
Graham X

FunMan@666:
Hey Hun. Long time, no hear. My fault
maybe, I know, but I miss you. I really do. Life just keeps rolling
on so damned fast that we need to make time for the ones we really
care about – Sunni’s death kind of puts things into perspective for
me. I just wanted you to know that whatever’s going on with you,
baby, and I know something is, I’m here to listen when you’re ready
to share. I miss you. I miss us. XxX

FrocksNotCox:
So. It’s been a while since I sent the
photos. I hope you liked them and that your sudden silence is
merely the chaos of life and not yet another knockback. People on
here are so shallow. Funny, I honestly thought you were different…
but, yeah. No pressure, but I’d really like to know what you
thought of John and his alter-ego Tabitha. She’s been appearing
more and more lately. I know she’s not to everyone’s taste, but I’d
rather you were just upfront if you’re not interested than not
responding at all. You seemed more polite than most. Anyway I hope
you have a good life, whatever happens. John

Sue4Fem:
Yes. Yesyesyesyesyes and yes! I so want that
too. I love those pics, Megan! Let’s make a plan! XXXXX

Randy_Waterhouse:
Hmmm. Silence? I guess sometimes no
response is an answer in itself.

Kindly_Meister:
My dear, I already own both the cat o’
nine tails and the remote-control vibrating eggs. Both have been
well, if infrequently, used over the years. What I do not currently
own, as I believe only a truly special girl can withstand the
intensity I am assured it can bring, is a Hitachi wand. Have you
experience of them? I’d love to hear your thoughts. Yours,
Kindly_Meister. X

The last message
had been sent just 40 minutes beforehand. Glancing at his profile
with what was initially merely a casual interest, Megan saw an
elderly man whose photos varied from his profile shot – healthy and
outdoorsy in what she assumed was the Scottish countryside – to
more the insalubrious: an anal hook, various whips in action, a
masked woman of indeterminate age strapped X-shape across an
enormous pine bed.

His profile was brief
but witty and eloquent – she instantly liked the cut of his jib,
and that was an excellent start. He had a strong online presence
stretching back a few years and this, she had learnt, was a
reasonable sign of what she glibly called sanity. This was a
nebulous concept in the context of cyber-sex, but she had slowly
been learning to identify the nut-jobs out there from what they
revealed of themselves. Sometimes warning signs would appear in
someone who appealed – an unexpected hint of desperate neediness,
say, or a turn of phrase that crossed from dirty into crass – and
it was tempting to dismiss these as passing shadows to be ignored,
signs of a latent tendency to be judgmental, perhaps, but Megan had
learnt the hard way that gut instinct was everything.

She followed the
advice on Kindly_Meister’s page and clicked the links to his myriad
stories. He had also, she noticed on further research, given and
received a lot of positive feedback, both to the work of others and
in response to their comments to him. The alarm bells stayed
silent.

And then she began to
read.

She read
A Week at
the Cabin
, the highly detailed tale of a middle-aged man out
walking alone through the Highlands, caught up in a fierce storm
and forced to take shelter in an unmanned mountain hut. Walking in,
he’d been met by a woman much younger than himself – her age, the
fact that she had recently had her 18th birthday, was stressed
quite strongly in the story, Kindly_Meister later told her, due to
the strict rules applied by the erotica website on which he
posted.

There was, his main
character suspected from the first moments, an obvious immediate
attraction, but the age gap meant that he wanted to be sure of what
she wanted before he took things further. There followed an overly
long though well-crafted scene between the hiker and the young and,
it turned out, incredibly inexperienced and vaguely gawky teenager,
which led to the inevitable – well, it was an erotica site –
conclusion. Having bid farewell the next morning, the two parted,
never to have contact again.

It was, Megan thought,
interesting as an insight into the man, but the sex scene itself
did little for her. But that was fine, she thought. She was not
after a speedy online turn-on. She could find that anywhere. What
she needed was someone with more depth, a man who knew more than
she did and would be capable of leading her, and in Kindly_Meister
she was beginning to think she saw precisely that. He appeared to
be a man who could take command when necessary. She also liked the
moral code of the story, and there was an appealing honesty shining
through his words.

She read
A Moment
in Time
, then skimmed through several other tales, all
eloquently written but too wordy, perhaps, and with fairly
interchangeable plots: man meets woman (generally much younger, but
not always), generally in unusual settings – hitchhiking, picking
his son up after a term as an activity leader at a remotely placed
activity camp for families, whatever; man ends up walking with
woman to some even remoter place; and man gently nudges woman, via
a slight angsty exchange led by her, towards the conclusion that
guilt is the only true sin and that his cock will cure all. And it
usually did.

It was with
Decently Indecent Proposal
, though the name had made her
cringe, that he won her completely. The story showed, she believed,
a man who understood not only women, but her. Megan lay on her bed
one Sunday morning, cup of tea getting cold by her side, and soaked
up the words in front of her. It was the story of a
54-year-old-American woman, married to a man 15 years her senior,
who had met, and connected with, a guy of similar age to herself
online.

There it was.
That spark, the connection between her and Mike had been
immediately obvious to Lisa, but this, this taking the virtual and
making it real, this was something totally different, and not
something she felt comfortable doing without obtaining
approval.

How she managed to say
the words she needed to say to Donald she didn’t know, but somehow
she found the courage. Looking back, she guessed she knew that, as
a man who had always loved her above all and put his own needs
before her own, he would put that macho possession bullshit to one
side and understand. At the end of the day, Donald was her true
master, and in giving his permission to this, he had shown it. He
had seen the right thing and done it – could there be any greater
testament to the man?

After dinner, during
that first meeting, a time when he had sussed out the nature of the
man who would take his place for the evening, the three had walked
together to the hotel lift, Lisa and Donald holding hands tightly,
Mike to the right of them both. They had gone up to the fourth
floor and headed to room 430. The wrist and ankle restraints were
already attached to the bed, and Mike stood to one side in the room
he had booked and watched as Lisa kissed the older man and slowly
stripped, folding her clothes neatly across the back of a nearby
chair. Donald noticed her hands shake slightly and leant over to
grab one. Wearing just a small pair of black lace panties, she
pulled herself into his arms and began to sob a little against his
chest, before he pulled her back to look at him.

“
It’s okay, honey,
it’s all okay. I’m good with this I promise you, and if you need
me, you know where I am. But, I don’t think you will. I trust this
guy,” and he smiled over at Mike.

Taking off the last of
her underwear, Lisa lay face down on the bed as they’d planned,
while Donald put on her blindfold and restraints. He kissed her,
stroked her tear-stained cheek with the back of his hand and
whispered something tenderly in her left ear before walking down to
the bar, where he planned to have two doubles before going to the
first floor, to his own room, his and Lisa’s room, closing the
door, and retiring for the night.