Lust Call (21 page)

Entwined in adulterous lust, the sound of flesh meeting flesh resounding around the room, we gasped and writhed in our illicit act as my vaginal throat again swallowed Sam's creamy offering. I was exhausted, but I wanted more and more. Could I fuck all six men in one day? Six cocks, six loads of fresh spunk. A swollen knob pumping sperm into my
thirsty mouth, a solid cock fucking my arse and another fucking my cunt . . . I was now a fully-fledged slut.

‘You're amazing,' Sam said, finally sitting back on his heels.

‘And you're bloody good,' I breathed huskily. ‘Do my arse now, Sam. Fuck my arse.'

‘God, you're an insatiable little nymph,' he said with a chuckle.

‘She's a filthy slut,' his wife screamed, entering the room and glaring at me. ‘And you're a cheating bastard.'

‘Oh, I . . .' he stammered, leaping to his feet and pulling his trousers up. ‘I thought . . . I didn't know you were back.'

‘You filthy whore,' she spat, slapping my face. ‘Get out of my house.'

I grabbed my panties from the floor, leapt to my feet and stared at Jane. There was devastation reflected in the blue pools of her tearful eyes. Her marriage was in ruins, vows shattered, trust betrayed . . . There was nothing I could say, I knew as I walked past her into the hall and stuffed my panties into my handbag. She screamed at Sam as I opened the front door and left the once marital home. Did I feel guilty, I wondered as I walked down the street? I no longer felt the emotion.

Sperm streamed from my naked pussy and coursed down my inner thighs as I headed home, and I wondered why I'd not been able to control myself. I'd had no intention of fucking my friend's husband. I'd thought that I'd moved on and was making a fresh start. Once a slut, always a slut. Sam had come on strong to me, I reflected. No, I'd started it by exposing my hairless pussy lips.

Nearing my house, I wondered why Sam hadn't mentioned my shaved pussy. It had been his idea to
invite me round, I mused. Recalling his words, I began to worry.
It was my idea to invite you here this evening. I knew that Jane would be out and
. . . He'd planned my seduction, he'd known that Jane would be out, he'd not mentioned my shaved pussy . . . He'd planned to fuck me, so he must have also known that Dave wouldn't be with me. And he knew my telephone number and email address. He only lived ten minutes away from my house so it would be easy enough to slip into the alleyway and hide in the bushes by the fence. And there was something else that Sam had mentioned, I reflected. He had a couple of weeks off. He could have gone to the alleyway during the day to meet me. It all fitted, but . . . Sam, my blackmailer? No, surely not.

Checking my emails the minute I got home, I wasn't surprised to find nothing from Brian. If Sam was Brian, he'd be rowing with Jane and have no time to send emails. What if Jane contacted Dave? If she told Dave that she'd caught me fucking Sam . . . Shit, I thought, switching the computer off and wandering into the kitchen. I was in real trouble now.

Pouring myself a glass of wine, I checked the kitchen clock. 7.30, half an hour before Dave was due home. I was in a terrible state. My hair dishevelled, spunk oozing from my hairless pussy crack . . . Gulping down my wine, I had an idea. If Sam was my blackmailer, then Jane and Dave would understand that he'd threatened me and I'd had no choice. Stupid bitch, I thought. Sam had the bloody photographs. I jumped out of my skin as the phone rang, and dashed into the lounge.

‘Hello,' I said, pressing the receiver to my ear.

‘Why?' Jane asked me. ‘Why, Sarah?'

‘Jane, I . . .'

‘You were supposed to be my friend.'

‘I know,' I sighed. ‘Has Sam been going out in the evenings?'

‘What?'

‘Sam, has he been going out for walks or . . .'

‘What the hell are you talking about? You've just fucked my husband, and you're asking me whether he goes out for evening walks?'

‘It's important, Jane. Please, tell me.'

‘As it happens, he goes out for a walk most evenings. He's just gone out for a walk.'

‘Alone?'

‘Yes.'

‘Look, I know that you're going to tell Dave about this.'

‘Damned right I am. You've fucked my marriage, and I intend to fuck yours.'

‘OK, I understand that. But, before you do, we must talk.'

‘I don't want to hear your excuses, Sarah.'

‘I'm not going to make excuses. All I'm asking is that we talk before you tell Dave. Can you come round tomorrow morning?'

‘I'll be there at nine. And, half an hour later, I'll ring Dave on his mobile and tell him what a dirty little slut he's married to.'

‘OK, OK. Just give me that half hour, and you can do what you like.'

As she hung up, I hoped that she'd stick to our agreement. I also hoped that I was right about Sam. If he was blackmailing me, if I told Jane that I'd been having an affair with a couple of men and Sam had photographed me and blackmailed me and forced me to have crude sex with him . . . She'd think me a slut for screwing two other men, but she'd realise that Sam had forced me. It was a hopeless plan, but it was the only plan I had.

I was about to take a shower and prepare a meal for Dave when he rang me. He was going to be later than he'd thought, at least eleven if not midnight. He sounded worried, anxious, but I had no idea why. He also seemed to be in a hurry and I didn't get a chance to say that I'd been round to see Sam and Jane. After the call, I poured myself yet another glass of wine. Taking my glass and the bottle out to the patio, I plonked myself in a chair.

As I watched the evening sun sink below the trees, I thought it odd that Sam had wanted me to go round on the very evening that Dave would be working late. And, now, Dave was going to be even later. Were they in this together? Had Sam called Dave and told him about Jane catching us? Was Dave going to be even later because he'd gone to meet Sam in a pub? Jane had said that Sam had just gone out for a walk. What the hell was going on?

I gulped down my wine and refilled my glass, wondering whether Jane was in on the scam. Perhaps her timely entry had been planned and . . . but what would be the point in that? My mind was going way off track as far as Jane was concerned, but the possibility of Sam and Dave working together was very real. If that was the case, then Dave was a sad pervert. Had he watched me getting fucked by other men? Had he been spying on me when Sam had fucked me?

‘Hi, sexy,' Barry called over the fence. ‘Drinking alone?'

‘Hi, Barry,' I sighed. ‘Dave's working late. What are you up to? Where's Jilly?'

‘At her mother's, as usual.'

‘Do you two ever get to see each other?'

‘No, not really.'

‘She's not seeing another man, is she?' I said with a giggle.

‘Funny you should say that. I rang the other evening and Jilly wasn't there. Her mother said that she'd not been round.'

‘Really? Did you ask Jilly about it?'

‘No, I didn't. There's probably a good explanation. Anyway, I'm back to work next week. I'm going to miss seeing you during the day.'

‘Barry, this thing about the photograph.'

‘Have you been sent any more?'

‘I've been sent several.'

‘What?'

‘When we were on the sofa in my dining room . . . I was sent a photo of us together.'

‘How the hell . . . Christ, Sarah, why didn't you tell me?'

‘I'm telling you now.'

‘Fucking hell, I thought it was over.'

‘Do you have any idea who it might be?'

‘No, no idea at all. Whoever it was must have been in your garden.'

‘I think I know who it is.'

‘What? Who is it? Tell me who it is.'

‘A friend of mine, Well, her husband.'

‘Christ.'

‘He has my email address and . . . I think Dave's involved.'

‘Dave? You're joking.'

‘No, I'm not. I won't go into the details, but it all fits.'

‘So, what do we do? This man . . . What does he want?'

‘Sex, basically. When you went to the pub with Dave the other evening, did he say anything?'

‘Dave . . . He didn't go with me to the pub.'

‘What? But, the next day, I asked you whether you'd enjoyed the pub.'

‘He asked me not to tell you, Sarah. I don't know where he went, but he wasn't with me.'

‘What did he say, exactly?'

‘We were walking down the road and he said that he had to go and see someone and he'd join me in the pub later. He asked me not to mention it to you.'

‘And, he didn't join you?'

‘No, he didn't. He said that it was perfectly innocent but he didn't want you to know. Shit, there's my phone. I'll be back in a minute.'

As he dashed into his house, I felt my stomach churn. The night that Dave had said that he was going to the pub with Barry, someone had fucked my arse through the hole in the fence. It was Dave, I was sure. The whole thing fitted together perfectly. I'd had to be by the fence at seven o'clock, and only a short time before seven Dave had announced that he was going out with Barry . . . This was a shocking revelation. But, where did Sam fit into the equation? And what about Keith?

I had to make a plan of action, I decided, sipping my wine. First of all, I had to discover whether Dave had been to Morocco or not. He always kept receipts for his business so that shouldn't be too difficult. Secondly, I had to speak to Sam. If he had been blackmailing me, he might spill the beans now that Jane had caught him with his trousers down. Jane was now in a position to destroy my marriage so, if Sam had been the culprit, he'd hardly carry on taking photographs and threatening me. Jane's untimely arrival might have been rather fortuitous, I reflected. Sam was in trouble and, if he was in this with Dave . . . Things had certainly changed over the course of the last few hours.

I might be able to turn the whole thing round, I thought, pouring myself yet another glass of wine. If
I confronted Dave, said that I'd suspected him of screwing around behind my back and that's the reason I'd gone with another man . . . I'd had too much wine to think straight. Before I did anything, I'd talk to Jane in the morning. Depending on the outcome of our chat, I'd either confront Dave or . . . I didn't know what the hell I was going to do. This was a bloody mess, I knew that much.

Wandering into the house as the front doorbell rang, I hoped to God that Jane hadn't decided to bring our meeting forward. Taking my panties from my handbag, I slipped them on and opened the door. To my amazement, I found myself face to face with the last person I'd expected to see. His hand in his pockets, his dark eyes sparkling, Keith grinned at me. Ushering him in before the neighbours saw him, I realised what a mess I looked. My thighs were sticky with Sam's sperm and my clothes were crumpled, and I wasn't in the mood for a chat. Running my fingers through my dishevelled hair, I closed the door and asked him what he wanted.

‘I've seen that man again,' he enlightened me.

‘What man?'

‘The man hovering in the alleyway, by your back fence.'

‘Keith, I thought . . . I thought that you were the man.'

‘What?'

‘You asked me to meet you by the fence at nine o'clock this morning.'

‘I asked you? I was out for a walk, Sarah. I didn't really know you before this morning. We hadn't arranged to meet.'

‘But, you were looking in the bushes, you were looking at the hole in the fence and . . .'

‘Yes, because I was trying to find out what was of interest to the man I'd seen there.'

‘So, what we did in the woods together . . .'

‘Was absolutely amazing. Actually, that explains what you meant by the fence coming between us. I've been wondering about that all day.'

‘I thought you were the man. God,' I breathed. ‘This gets worse by the minute. This man, when did you see him and what did he look like?'

‘I saw him ten minutes ago. I thought that either you or your husband should know about it.'

‘My husband? God, no. Whatever you do, don't tell him.'

‘Doesn't he know, then? Surely, if there's someone creeping about and spying . . .'

‘It's too complicated to explain. So, what did this man look like?'

‘Mid-forties, average height, light hair . . . Almost ginger, I suppose.'

‘Ginger? I don't know anyone with ginger hair.'

‘Sarah, I doubt that it's someone you know.'

‘You don't understand, Keith. This man knows me well, and I reckon that I know him.'

‘The plot thickens. Oh, I also saw that chap from opposite hanging around in the woods.'

‘Derek, yes. He's keeping watch for me.'

‘This is all rather odd, if you ask me. What's going on, Sarah?'

‘I don't know,' I sighed. ‘Can you stay? I mean, would you like a drink?'

‘I'll have a beer, if you have one?'

‘Yes, of course.'

I grabbed one of Dave's beers from the fridge and led Keith out to the patio where I offered him a chair. Sitting opposite him at the table, I reckoned that, along with Derek, he was at the bottom of my list of suspects. He'd been an innocent passer-by, lured into the woods and fucked. Watching him sipping his
beer, I couldn't believe how many mistakes I'd made. My latest blunder was believing that Keith was my man, until I'd met Sam.

‘I take it that your husband is out?' Keith said.

‘Yes, yes he is. Keith, what we did in the woods this morning . . .'

‘You want some more?' he asked me, chuckling and raising his eyebrows.

‘Yes, no . . . Look, you don't understand. Someone's been hanging around in the alleyway, as you know. But they've also been getting into my garden. God knows how, but they've managed to get into my garden on several occasions.'