Lust Call (16 page)

‘Do you want to know who Brian is?' a male voice asked me as I slipped into the bushes.

‘Yes, I do. I also want to know who the hell you are.'

‘All in good time, Sarah.'

‘Tell me now, or I won't come here again.'

‘Lift your skirt up and bend over with your open cunt against the hole,' he ordered me.

‘I'm not a slut,' I returned indignantly. ‘Why are you disguising your voice? Tell me who you are.'

‘Do it, Sarah. Do it, and then I'll tell you who Brian is.'

‘I reckon that you're Brian. You're the one who's been . . .'

‘You don't have much time, Sarah. Do as you're told, or you'll never discover who Brian is.'

Lifting my skirt, I backed on to the fence with my open pussy lips pressed against the hole. I couldn't understand why I felt so aroused as his swollen knob stabbed between the puffy cushions of my sex slit. I must have been a right little slut, I thought as his knob slipped into the tight sheath of my vagina. It wasn't only the fact that I was being blackmailed that drove me to comply with his crude request. I actually wanted him to fuck me. I wanted to be fucked by a stranger through a hole in the fence. What the hell had I become?

With my naked buttocks pressed hard against the wooden fence, and his solid shaft gliding in and out of my sex-drenched vagina, I gasped as my clitoris swelled and my womb contracted. He wasn't going to tell me anything about Brian, I knew as I rested my hands on my knees. My long blonde hair cascading over my flushed face, I closed my eyes as his cock swelled and my juices of desire streamed down my inner thighs. I needed this, I reflected as my orgasm neared. He wasn't going to tell me anything that I didn't know. But I needed to be fucked senseless.

What the fucking hell was I doing? If Dave came back, if he wandered down the garden . . . But it was the danger and excitement that I thrived on, I realised as gasps of male pleasure sounded from behind the fence. Rather than having to sneak out of the house to meet another man, or lie about where I was going, all I had to do was slip into the bushes at the end of the garden. The notion sent quivers through my womb, and I imagined three or four men lined up in
the alleyway, all waiting to fuck me through the hole in the fence.

‘You love it, don't you?' the man breathed.

‘Yes,' I gasped, immediately wishing I hadn't.

‘I'll do your tight little arsehole next time.'

‘No, I . . .'

‘Make sure your arse is well greased with Vaseline this evening, and I'll . . .'

‘I can't, my husband . . .'

‘Seven o'clock, Sarah. Be here at seven, and I'll fuck your tight little bottom-hole and fill your arse with spunk.'

Rocking gently back and forth as he fucked me, my buttocks repeatedly slapping the fence, I slipped my hand between my parted thighs and massaged the swollen nub of my yearning clitoris. I'd loved masturbating in the garden during my teens, and now I was enjoying a hard shafting in the bushes. This was the ultimate in sexual depravation, I mused dreamily. Hiding in the bushes with my skirt up and my hairless pussy slit pressed against the hole in the fence, a huge cock fucking my tight cunt . . . This was sheer sexual bliss.

The man's spunk started jetting from his throbbing knob and lubricated our illicit union as he repeatedly rammed his weapon-head hard against my ripe cervix. My own orgasm erupting within the pulsating nub of my solid clitoris, I gasped and squirmed, pressing my naked buttocks harder against the fence to allow him deeper penetration of my adulterous cunt. I could feel his spunk overflowing and streaming down my thighs as my vagina spasmed and gripped his thrusting cock. I'd not been fucked like this for years, I reflected as my orgasm peaked and shook me to the core. And I wasn't prepared to wait years until I was fucked like this again.

The squelching sounds of sex filling the warm summer air, I stifled my gasps of pleasure as my vaginal muscles tightened and gripped the thrusting cock. Again and again, he thrust his beautiful organ into my trembling body, flooding my inflamed cunt with his spunk as I sustained my incredible climax with my vibrating fingertips. My clitoris swelling again, another orgasm shaking me to the core, I wondered how many times I could come during one fucking session. Whenever Dave had fucked me, I'd only come once, if at all. But I now had a new and fulfilling sex life.

‘Be here at seven,' the unseen man whispered in a false voice, his cock sliding out of my inflamed cunt as I fell forward on to my knees. ‘Grease your tight little arsehole and be here at seven.'

‘Yes, yes, I'll be here,' I breathed, wondering what the hell I was saying.

‘You want your arse fucked don't you, Sarah?'

‘God, yes. I want my arse fucked.'

‘Until this evening, Sarah. Don't be late.'

Crawling out of the bushes on my hands and knees, I lay on the grass on my back and gazed up at the blue sky. Sperm oozing from my gaping sex crack, my young body trembling uncontrollably, I could feel my clitoris pulsating as my orgasm receded. I'd forgotten what a proper fucking was like, I mused dreamily. Dave was useless in comparison to my unseen lover. Seven o'clock, I reflected, imagining a solid cock shafting the tight duct of my rectum. How the hell was I going to escape Dave and slip into the bushes?

Recovering in the aftermath of my massive climaxes, I finally sat upright and looked about the garden. Small twigs and leaves adorned my long blonde hair. My face was flushed, my thighs sticky with spunk and vaginal milk. I leapt to my feet and
dashed into the house to clean myself up before Dave came back. Again, I was unable to believe what I'd done. Fucking a man at the end of the garden while my husband was next door . . . I was sailing dangerously close to the wind.

After a shower, I slipped into a short summer dress and trotted down the stairs. Sitting on the patio with a glass of iced orange juice, I began to change my way of thinking about the blackmailer and his accomplice. One, two or three men . . . I didn't really care how many men were using my body for sex. I was enjoying myself so, what the hell? This was a new way of life, I mused. I'd been doing housework, cooking, washing and ironing during my four years of marriage. Dave was out meeting people on photo shoots, while I was stuck at home. Now, it was my turn to enjoy myself.

I was still concerned about the photographs of my debauched sexual acts. But I really didn't think that the blackmailer would send them to Dave. If he did, he'd no longer have the pleasure of my tight pussy. But there was an unbalance. He had the photographs, and I had nothing on him, and I didn't like that. I was more than willing to have crude sex with him, and I was looking forward to an arse fucking, but I didn't want the threat of divorce hanging over me.

‘Barry and Jilly will be here later,' Dave said, walking through the kitchen and joining me on the patio.

‘Oh, the barbecue,' I breathed. Shit, I was supposed to be in the bushes at seven. ‘What time did you tell them?'

‘I didn't. There'll come round when they're ready. That is all right, isn't it?'

‘Yes, that's fine,' I replied, my vaginal muscles tightening as I recalled the crude fucking I'd just
enjoyed in the bushes. ‘I haven't seen Jilly for ages, it will be nice to have a chat with her.'

‘You've seen plenty of Barry, though,' Dave said mysteriously.

‘Have I? Oh, yes, we've been chatting over the fence. He's been working on his kitchen.'

‘Yes, it looks really nice. He's done a good job.'

‘So, did you bring me a present back from Morocco?'

‘Sorry, love, I didn't have the time.'

‘Oh, OK. When are you going to bring your case in from the car?' I had to play the role of twee little housewife. ‘Only, your clothes will need washing.'

‘I'll do it later. Sarah, are you sure that everything is all right?'

‘Yes, of course I'm sure. Why do you ask?'

‘Barry was talking about you.'

‘Talking about me?' I hesitated, wondering what to say. ‘What do you mean?'

‘I don't know. He kept mentioning you and . . . To be honest, I got the impression that he fancies you.'

‘What?' I gasped, breaking into a giggle. ‘Barry, fancy me? You are silly, Dave.'

‘Am I? He said that you were out here in a short skirt, and then in your bikini.'

‘In case you've not noticed, it's summer time. The weather has been beautiful, Dave. I always wear short skirts in the summer. And, if I'm sunbathing, I'll wear a bikini.'

‘I suppose so. It's just that . . .'

‘Just that, what?'

‘Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'm imagining things. There was one other thing.'

‘Oh?'

‘He apologised for drinking my beer.'

‘Did he? Oh, that's right. We were chatting and he
looked hot so I got him a beer from the fridge and . . . Dave, what's this all about? Do you suspect me of screwing around?'

‘No, no of course not. It's just that, you said Susie drank the beers. And, earlier, when I was round at Barry's . . . What were you doing at the end of the garden?'

‘I was . . . I was looking at the plants.'

‘I saw you go down there, and you didn't come back for ages.'

‘Dave, I was looking at the plants. What do you think I was doing?'

‘I don't know. When you came back, you looked . . . Well, you looked worn out. There were leaves and bits in your hair. I thought you'd been rolling on the ground by the way you looked.'

‘I was tidying up the bushes and . . . The heat got to me, so I went and had a cold shower.'

‘Oh, right. Well, I'm going to nip out and get some more beers for this evening. I'll bring my suitcase in when I get back.'

‘Oh, we need some wine. Red and white.'

‘OK. I won't be long.'

What the hell had Barry been saying, I wondered as Dave went back into the house. Why had he mentioned my short skirt and bikini? He must have known that Dave would have become suspicious. And to apologise for drinking the beer . . . I'd thought that Barry would have been the last man to go blabbing his mouth off. He was a good fuck, I mused in my wickedness, recalling his solid cock shafting my tight little cunt. But he wasn't my only lover. He was
not
indispensable.

Barry turned up at five o'clock, alone. Jilly, it seemed, was still at her mother's house and wouldn't be back
for several hours. That was probably just as well, I reflected as Barry winked at me. I'd thought that things would be difficult between Barry and me, but the atmosphere couldn't have been more relaxed. Barry was aware that my gaze repeatedly fell upon his shorts, and he flashed me the odd knowing look as he helped Dave with the barbecue. To tease him, I lifted my short dress and allowed him a peak of my hairless pussy crack whenever Dave wasn't looking. Dangerous games.

‘How are you?' he asked me as Dave went up to the bathroom.

‘Feeling hot and sexy,' I returned huskily, grabbing the crotch of his shorts as he stood by my chair. ‘Why the hell did you mention my bikini and the beers to Dave?'

‘I realised my mistake as soon as I'd said it. Sorry if it caused problems.'

‘Dave was suspicious. Don't go saying anything like that again.'

‘OK, sorry. Have any more emails or photographs turned up?'

‘No,' I lied. ‘I think it's over.'

‘Thank God for that. How about giving me a quick suck?'

‘Not now, Barry,' I sighed. ‘Dave will be down any minute.'

‘Later, then?'

‘Not with Dave around. Behave yourself, Barry.'

‘How can I behave when you keep showing me your sweet little pussy?'

Pulling the front of his shorts down and exposing the stiffening shaft of his magnificent cock, he looked down at me and grinned. He knew that I couldn't resist as I took his warm shaft in my hand and fully retracted his fleshy foreskin. Leaning forward, I took
his ripe plum into my mouth and moaned softly through my nose as I sucked gently. This was bloody risky, but I was desperate for spunk, craving another fix. Wanking his rock-hard cock and kneading his full balls with my free hand, I took his bulbous knob to the back of my throat and sank my teeth gently into his solid shaft.

Gobbling and sucking like a babe at the breast, I realised that I was sailing very close to the wind. Dave was in the house, and I was sitting on the patio sucking my neighbour's cock . . . I was asking for trouble, but I couldn't help myself, I couldn't fight my arousal, my desperate craving for fresh spunk. Barry's balls were full and heavy in the palm of my hand. I'd have loved to have sucked and licked his scrotum, but I had very little time.

Hearing Dave upstairs, I gobbled on Barry's swollen knob and wanked his shaft faster in my rising sexual frenzy. My long blonde hair cascading over my face, I breathed heavily through my nose as Barry began to tremble and gasp. He was almost there, I knew as he clutched my head and rocked his hips. Fucking my mouth, he let out a low moan of pleasure as his spunk jetted from his throbbing knob and bathed my darting tongue. I swallowed hard, trying not to allow one drop of his spunk to dribble from my mouth as his balls drained. Repeatedly swallowing as I heard Dave bounding down the stairs, I sucked harder to bring out the last of his spunk before I was caught.

‘Another beer, Barry?' Dave called from the kitchen

‘Er . . . Yes, yes please,' Barry replied, tugging his shorts up and moving to the barbecue.

‘There you go,' Dave said, joining Barry and passing him a can. ‘Sarah, more wine?'

‘No, I'm OK,' I said softly, the taste of sperm lingering on my tongue.

As the men chatted, I realised how close I'd been to getting caught with another man's cock spunking down my throat. I must have been mad, I reflected. Had Dave not called out . . . I was going to have to be careful in future. I enjoyed a comfortable life, an exciting life, and the last thing I wanted was divorce. Dave would be at work tomorrow, I mused happily. I'd have all day to fuck and swallow spunk.