Butter Wouldn't Melt (15 page)

‘You're going to have to teach me how to do this,' I told him. ‘It's my first time, with a man.'

‘Oh God,' he repeated. ‘I think I've died and gone to Heaven.'

‘I'm not sure they do this in Heaven,' I said, and slipped my hand into the opening of his Y-fronts.

He felt warm and soft, silky too, really rather a nice feeling. I began to explore him, stroking his balls and taking hold of his cock, which had begun to swell, making a long bulge beneath the white cotton. He was watching, enraptured, but silent.

‘You're supposed to be teaching me how to do this,' I reminded him.

‘You . . . you're doing very well,' he assured me. ‘Don't feel you need to rush. Just pull up and down . . . yes, like that, and feel my balls, if you like.'

The bulge in his pants was growing rapidly now, his cock extending to one side as I began to stroke his balls once more. They felt strange, shifting under my fingers as if they had a life of their own, and it was amazing how big his cock was getting.

‘You'd better take me out,' he sighed.

I nodded and tugged the hole in his Y-fronts open, to pull out his cock, a plump, pink tower of meat, almost as heavily veined as Trilby's dildo. A thick collar of wrinkled skin surrounded the top, with the tip of a moist, bright pink helmet just beginning to poke out. I could smell him too, a scent very different from pussy, which made my nose wrinkle but which seemed to be helping send little shivers down my belly to my sex.

‘Take my balls out too, please,' he instructed, his confidence rising to my obvious enthusiasm.

I complied, scooping his balls sack out of his underpants to leave it lying fat and heavy on a bed of plain white cotton with his cock rearing above, now maybe halfway to being hard. It looked rather nice, and very rude, hideously ugly, but still desirable. I
took him in my hand and began to pull up and down as I had before, stroking and tickling his balls at the same time.

‘A little harder,' he sighed, ‘and roll my foreskin back, please. Yes, like that, only with your finger and thumb in a ring. Yes, perfect . . . oh God . . .'

‘Do men like that?' I asked.

All he seemed to be able to manage was a nod, and his mouth was slack with pleasure, so presumably they did. It looked rather comical to me, with the big pink hat of his cock head popping in and out of his foreskin as I rolled it up and down, but he was soon too big to keep it in. He was hard too, his cock shaft now curving up from his belly with the big veins standing out blue on his pale skin.

‘Are you fully erect?' I asked him, and he gave a weak nod.

‘Then I suppose I'd better suck you off,' I said doubtfully.

‘Yes, please,' he answered. ‘If you want to.'

‘I do,' I assured him. ‘I really do, just not yet.'

I continued to masturbate him, wondering if I'd ever seen anything at once so repellent and so attractive as his erect cock and heavy balls. Girls are pretty all over, not men, and I was supposed to put the hideous thing in my mouth, and suck. I was going to do it, too, just as soon as I'd plucked up enough courage. My mouth came open and I was telling myself I'd put him in on the count of ten, then twenty, then thirty, all the while tugging at his now straining shaft.

‘You'd better do it, Pippa,' he gasped, ‘or I'm going to come in your hand.'

‘Hang on,' I told him, ‘not yet.'

‘Stop it then.'

He took over from me as I let go, opening his eyes to stare down. I smiled back, nervous and
embarrassed, but excited too, and rather enjoying myself. He spoke.

‘Would you . . . would you mind taking your top off? A lot of men like a girl to do it topless, or at least with her breasts bare.'

I wasn't doing that for old Prufrock, but now I didn't mind. Nodding my agreement, I quickly shrugged off my jacket and undid my tie, with Clive staring all the while, as if he couldn't bear to miss a single instant of my little show. I did my blouse buttons slowly, teasing him just the way I'd teased the girls when AJ had me perform a striptease at Whispers. His eyes stayed glued to me, and he was nursing his erection as he watched.

‘Is this good?' I asked.

He nodded dumbly. I eased my blouse off down my arms, wondering how best to show my breasts. AJ likes to make me strip quickly, or to pull my clothes off herself. Penny likes to flip my bra up before she spanks me, and I tried the same, taking hold of the undersides of my cups and tugging them up. Clive gave a soft moan and began to wank faster.

‘Good?' I asked, although the answer was pretty obvious.

‘Perfect,' he sighed. ‘I love to see a girl play peek-a-boo with her tits, and yours are no nice, small and perfect . . . and your little rosy nipples, so stiff . . . and . . . oh God, suck my cock, Pippa . . . suck it, I'm going to come.'

‘Hold on!' I urged.

I moved quickly forward, determined to do it, and this time my urgency got the better of me. His hand came away and mine had replaced it, holding his big, silky shaft as I opened my mouth, to take him in, sucking a man's penis for the first time in my life. He groaned, and I thought he'd come, but there was
nothing extra in my mouth. If anything, he seemed to have got himself under better control, and I drew back, once more tugging gently at his shaft.

‘Come on, Clive, teach me,' I urged.

‘Like you were,' he sighed. ‘Come on, Pippa, finish me . . . be my little cock sucker.'

A sharp pang ran through me, shame and excitement. That was what I was now, a cock sucker, maybe what I would be once he'd come, but it was what I wanted. Again I rocked forward to use my mouth on him. I still didn't know what to do, so I began to lick, the same way I would a girl if she had a really huge clit, kissing the bulbous helmet and lapping under the shaft. Again Clive groaned, and this time he came, a fountain of thick white spunk erupting from his cock to catch me completely by surprise, full in my mouth.

It tasted horrible, salty and slimy and male, but before I could spit it out a second spurt caught me in the face and hair, forcing me to close my eyes and leaving me spluttering spittle and come over my bra and my bare tits, which was where he finished off, wanking himself to spray gobbets of sticky whiteness into my cleavage and both little mounds, before wiping the last drop off on one nipple.

Finally he collapsed back onto the sofa, leaving me with spunk dribbling down my face and chest, my eyes closed to avoid the sticky streamer laid over one lid and my mouth open in disgust. I heard him speak.

‘Oops! Sorry, Pippa, I got a little carried away. Let me get you some loo roll.'

I shook my head, and climbed unsteadily to my feet. Opening my single clear eye, I made my way over to the bathroom, a big, white-tiled affair. I locked the door very carefully and went to the loo, not to wipe my face, but to tug my skirt up and slip
my knickers down to my ankles, then to sit down. He'd spunked in my face, maybe the most disgusting thing I'd ever had done to me, worse than being peed on, worse than being made to suck things I'd had up my bum. I simply had to come, and I had to come still filthy with his mess.

After all, it was what I deserved. I was a cock sucker, his little cock sucker, so it was perfectly right for me to have my face spunked in, and my mouth. I could feel it, and taste the salt and slime, filling my mouth and wet on my skin. As I began to masturbate I was touching my breasts, rubbing the spunk into my nipples and scooping up the bigger blobs so that I could suck them from my fingers.

As I soiled myself the same phrase was running through my head again and again, what I now was, Clive's little cock sucker, and as I came in a welter of shame and ecstasy it had changed, to what I was going to become, Mr Prufrock's little cock sucker.

IT DIDN'T SEEM
nearly so easy the next day, not least because I'd spent a night of glorious mucky lesbian sex with AJ and was wracked with guilt. She'd been amazed by how horny I was, but I could hardly explain that it was because I'd just sucked my first cock, while I knew it was pointless to ask permission to go down on Mr Prufrock. What I did tell her about was my meeting with Morris, and how he knew what had happened at the Pumps, which put her in a foul mood until I managed to drag her out of it by crawling around her kitchen floor in the nude and pretending to be a puppy.

She was still talking about it in the morning, going through the thirteen girls over a bowl of cereal and trying to decide who was the traitor, which was how she saw it. I had to point out that any one of them might have told their girlfriends, who in turn might have told somebody else, or even Morris directly, so that in the end she had to admit defeat. She drove me in as usual, but dropped me in Fenchurch Street, where she had an early collection to make. I walked to work through the back streets, past Champagne Charlie's and to the rear door of Montague, Montague, Todmorden and Montague.

I had to knock twice to get any attention, but was eventually admitted by Andy Wellspring. He made
some remark about my figure, but I barely heard. My attention had been drawn to the gloomy well of Mr Prufrock's stairs. The door at the bottom was shut, and he probably wasn't even in, but it was impossible not to imagine him crouched down there, thinking his dirty little thoughts, or even masturbating to pictures of girls being rude on some smutty website. I was sure it was the sort of thing he'd do.

Andy obviously knew he was out of the running, because he didn't linger, leaving me to walk through into the hallway. I knew I should go and see Maggie to find out what she wanted me to do, but I was dreading the answer. In the end I told myself I ought to wait until Clive had a chance to get his bet on, otherwise the whole thing might go wrong, which was enough of an excuse to delay my fate. I went upstairs, to meet Steve Frost just coming out of the Blockhouse. Clive was there too, at his desk, but I ignored him. We'd agreed it was the best course of action the day before. I'd also explained to him that his blow-job was strictly a one-off. Mark was there, talking to Gail, so a little flirtation was obviously a good thing.

‘Hi, Steve,' I said brightly. ‘Are we going anywhere today, like out for lunch maybe?'

A distinctly stern voice answered me – Maggie, who was coming upstairs behind me and must have been in one of the partners' offices.

‘You've had quite enough long lunches for one week, young lady. At the very least you might have checked in with me before going home.'

‘I just missed you,' I explained. ‘I was with Clive.'

‘I know,' she said, ‘and I know what you were doing.'

She didn't, but I wasn't about to correct her.

‘So it need not go any further,' she continued, ‘not officially.'

The last two words had been spoken softly, and Steve had already gone into the Blockhouse, out of earshot. It wasn't safe to say anything specific, so I merely gave her a nervous smile.

‘What should I do?' I asked.

‘I need you to collect something for me, from Stepney Customs.'

‘Oh, I thought . . . Mr Prufrock?'

‘Never mind Mr Prufrock, this is important. Come upstairs for a moment.'

She took my arm and led me quickly up to my own room, where she shut the door. I was already beginning to feel nervous, and it got worse as she fixed me with her sternest look.

‘This is one of those tasks,' she said. ‘Mr Mulligan's account is badly overdue, and he is being deliberately difficult, but only so that he can take advantage of our special relationship . . .'

‘Sorry,' I broke in, ‘I don't understand.'

‘For goodness sake, Pippa,' she sighed. ‘Mr Mulligan comes to Morris's parties, as do many of our clients, which has allowed us to build up a useful network of contacts and business. Think of it like the Rotarians, or the Masons, only with spanking instead of funny handshakes.'

‘Spanking girls? And in this case me?'

‘Yes, of course. You're not going to be prissy about this, are you, Pippa?'

‘Prissy! Maggie, I . . .'

‘Yes, yes, I know, you're a lesbian, etc. I've heard it all before, Pippa, and I'm not impressed. We both know you like it . . .'

‘No I don't! And why me? Couldn't you send Helen?'

‘Mr Mulligan has asked for you personally. He's one of those men who likes to try something fresh, I'm afraid, and that something fresh is you.'

‘But I don't want to be spanked by Mr Mulligan!'

‘Pippa, you're beginning to sound like a brat. It probably won't even be bare bottom, not in front of his son and the other mechanic. He may not ask to spank you at all, but you're to be prepared for it, and you're to tell him you'll be at Morris's next party, and to promise him he'll get to do you there.'

‘But I'm not going to Morris's party!'

‘That hardly matters, once his cheque is safely in the bank. We can say you caught Mr Montague's cold or something.'

‘Yes, but . . .'

‘I'm not asking you to have sex with the man, Pippa, just to flirt a little. The most you'll get is a few pats to the seat of your skirt, and that won't hurt, will it? Or if you really have to be a little madam about it, tell him you're on your monthly and promise you'll be willing at Morris's party. Is that too much to ask?'

I didn't answer, and I knew I was pouting badly.

‘And you needn't put on that face to me, young lady,' she said. ‘Now come along, bend over your desk and I'll warm you up a little. That will make it easier.'

‘But if he's not going to . . .,' I began, only to break off with a squeak as she pulled me firmly across my own desk.

She had me by the wrist, and twisted my arm up behind my back, forcing me to stay in position as she groped for my skirt and I began to babble.

‘Maggie, no! This isn't fair . . . and anyway, you're not allowed to . . .you're not . . . AJ said so, and . . . and . . . ow! Not so rough!'