Lust Quest (11 page)

“A ghost?” I breathed. “Don't be so silly.” Shaking my head as I switched the computer on, I decided to bring a ghost into my story. I had no idea how to do it, or whether David would like the idea, but the notion gripped me and I spent several hours hammering the keyboard.

After dinner, I printed the chapter I'd written that afternoon and wandered out onto the patio with a bottle of wine. The evening sun sinking below the trees, I began to read the chapter. “This isn't right,” I breathed, flicking through the sheets of A4.

“Crystal grimaced as the young man forced his fist into her inflamed anal canal. A girl's teeth sinking into her hairless vulval lips, a solid knob rammed to the back of her throat, she shook violently as the leather whip flailed her naked breasts.”

Reading through the pages, I shook my head in disbelief. I hadn't written one word of the sexual torture. This wasn't my work. Lifting my head, I looked down the 96

garden, pondering on the mysterious young girl. Dusk falling, I could barely make out the bushes. Was there something there? I wondered, straining my eyes. Feeling cold, I grabbed what was left of the wine and went into the kitchen and locked the backdoor.

There was no such thing as ghosts, I tried to convince myself. If Crystal Marshall had been murdered, my Crystal ... “The idea's ridiculous” I breathed, walking into the lounge as the phone rang. A ghost lurking in the bushes? Grabbing the receiver, I decided to put ghosts and ghouls out of my mind. But I couldn't explain chapter six. Pressing the phone to my ear, I sighed as Alan the ex began rambling.

He'd been thrown out and he'd not meant to lie to me and wanted to come round and talk and the thing with Jackie had been a mistake and ...

“All right,” I finally conceded. “Come round for a chat. But you're not sleeping here.”

“Thanks,” he said. “It's just that I need someone to talk to.”

“And that's all you're going to do,” I stated firmly.

“Of course,” he agreed. “I'll be about ten minutes.”

As I waited for him, I wondered why I was bothering to speak to him, let alone have him round for a chat. He'd lied to everyone and didn't deserve any sympathy. He certainly wasn't going to doss on my sofa, if that's what he had in mind. Again pondering on chapter six, I paced the lounge floor. Someone had written it, but ... No one could have got into my den. I'd obviously written it. I must have had some kind of mental block and forgotten what I'd written.

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When Alan arrived, I took him into the lounge and gave him a glass of wine.

He looked tired and drawn, and I wondered what Angela had said to him. I found myself staring at the bulging crotch of his jeans as he sat in the armchair and rambled on about his great love for me. The last thing I'd intended to do was seduce him, and yet I felt compelled to unzip his jeans and drag his penis out. My thoughts muddled, I poured myself another glass of wine and tried to clear my mind of ghosts and Crystal.

“Why don't you strip off?” I breathed as Alan talked about moving in with me.

I can’t for the life of me think why I said that.

“Great,” he smiled, leaping to his feet and unbuckling his belt.

“Hurry up, then,” I whispered, wondering what the hell I was doing. They hadn't been my words and yet ... “I want your cock spunking in my mouth.”

Watching him pull his jeans off and slip out of his shirt, I couldn't believe what I'd said. I was either tired or ... Perhaps I'd been working too hard over the last couple of days, I pondered. And I'd probably had too much wine, which was blurring my thinking. It was best to get rid of Alan and have an early night. Staring at his naked body, his erect penis, I was about to tell him to go when he stood before me.

“You taste good,” I murmured, retracting his foreskin and licking the silken globe of his purple knob. Kneading his heavy balls as I sucked his knob into my wet mouth, I dug my fingernails into his scrotum. He twitched as he felt the pain, and I tightened my grip on the sensitive skin of his ball bag Complaining, he tried to push me away but I clenched my hand, gripping his hairy ball bag until he cried out.

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“Christ,” he said, grabbing my arm. “You're hurting me.”

“I'm sorry” I chuckled, releasing his scrotum. “I didn't mean to hurt you. I'll tell you what I'd like to do.”

“What's

that?”

“I'd like to tie you up with rope,” I grinned, licking the shaft of his solid cock.

“What?”

“I said, I'd like to tie you up with rope. Don't you want to have some fun?”

“Yes, of course,” he replied eagerly.

Leaping to my feet, I moved to the door. “I have a washing line in the cupboard. I'll go and get it.”

Returning to the lounge with the line and a pair of scissors, I grinned at him and he stared at me. I didn't know why I was acting the way I was, and neither did he.

All I knew was that I had to commit vulgar sexual acts with him while I had the chance. It must have been writing filth that had made me like this, I reflected. But I hadn't written chapter six, had I? Instructing Alan to lie on the floor with his limbs spread, my mind brimming with wicked ideas as he complied, I knelt at his feet and cut the line into four lengths.

“This will be fun,” I grinned, tying one length of line around his right ankle and securing the free end to the radiator. Yanking his feet wide apart, I tied another length of line to his other ankle and fixed the end to one of the sofa legs. Crawling across the carpet, I tied the last two lengths of line to his wrists and pulled his hands behind his head. Tying one free end to the other sofa leg and the other line to the TV

stand, I stood up and gazed at his spread-eagled naked body.

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“Perfect,” I murmured as he pulled on his bonds and asked what I intended to do. “You've been a naughty boy, Alan,” I replied huskily. “I'm going to have to punish you.”

“Sounds like fun,” he chuckled. “You know, we're really good together.”

“Aren't we just?”

“I was hoping that you'd ... Well, you know.”

“Want sex with you?”

“Yes.”

“Of course I want sex with you, Alan. I've been hoping you'd call me.”

“I know how much you want me, Jade. And I want you. Angela was ... I don't know why I ever bothered with her. It was you I loved all along. I suppose she enticed me with her lies and I fell for it.”

“Well, you're here with me now so you needn't worry about her. As you said, we're really good together. And we're going to get better.”

The only good thing was that I was about to have my revenge and vent my anger on the lying bastard. Whether I was being driven by Crystal the heroine or my own craving for revenge, I didn't know or care. And as for Crystal Marshall ...

Prostitution? Had a client abducted her and ... She'd seek revenge, given half the chance. But that was impossible seeing as she was ... It was impossible, wasn't it?

Taking the scissors from the floor, I settled between Alan's splayed thighs and began snipping the dark curls covering his balls. Lifting his head, he protested as I cut away the pubic hairs above his erect penis. Ignoring him, I worked around the base of 100

his cock until nothing but rough stubble covered his pubic area. He was beginning to annoy me with his continual complains, so I grabbed my wet panties from beneath the hall table and stuffed them into his mouth.

“That'll keep you quiet,” I smiled. “Now I can enjoy myself in peace.” I don't know what had possessed me to cut his pubes off, but I decided to finish the job and slipped into the bathroom and grabbed my razor and a can of shaving foam. He'd look like a little boy by the time I'd finished with him. And he’d have some explaining to do if he was lucky enough to pull a whore. Sitting between his thighs again, I squirted the foam over the stubble of his pubes and began shaving him. He wriggled and moaned through his nose, but there was nothing he could do to halt the depilation of his genitalia.

Finally wiping the foam away, I studied my handiwork. “Smooth as a baby's bum,” I murmured, running my fingertips over his rolling balls, the swell of his naked pubic mound. Catching his wide eyes as I stood towering above him, I grinned. “The time has come,” I whispered, placing my foot on his stomach. “The time has come for you to receive your just reward for your lies and deceit. You're about to be punished.”

His terror-stricken eyes following me as I walked across the room, I wondered what he was thinking. He'd be in two minds, I concluded, opening the bureau and taking out a wooden ruler. On the one hand, he'd trust me not to hurt him or do anything stupid, apart from shaving his pubes off. On the other hand ... He didn't really know me. I'd changed, and he couldn't be sure what to expect of me. I didn't know what to expect of myself.

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“Angela came round earlier,” I said, sitting by his side and tapping his flaccid penis with the ruler. “Apparently, you told her that I was a tart. You went running to her with your stories of my unfaithfulness and your lies about me screwing around behind your back.” He winced as I tapped his slug-like organ a little harder. “You lied about me. And you lied about her. You said that you were dossing on a friend's sofa.

She hadn't thrown you out, Alan. You lied to get your hands inside my wet knickers.”

Tapping his hairless balls with the ruler, I giggled. He was terrified, and so he should have been. He was a lying cheating bastard and deserved all he was going to get. But what was he going to get? I wondered, flicking his limp penis from side to side with the ruler. Realizing what I was doing, as if waking from a dream, I focused on his shaved pubic mound. Recalling chapter six, I began to wonder what was happening to me. This was so uncharacteristic that I couldn't believe I'd written the chapter, or shaved Alan's pubes off.

“I'll wank you,” I smiled, dropping the ruler to the floor and grabbing the soft shaft of his cock. The fear left his eyes as his penis stiffened within my warm hand.

He was finding trust in me, confidence. “Is that nice?” I asked, running his foreskin back and forth over his swelling knob. He nodded his head, his eyes smiling as he relaxed. Leaning over, I sucked the purple globe of his solid cock deep into my hot mouth and moaned through my nose. His naked body writhed, his heavy balls rolling as he wallowed in his pleasure.

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Pleasure before pain.
The words reverberating around my mind, I again pondered on the young girl's face emerging from the bushes. Wishing I'd seen her, I wondered whether she was the ghost of Crystal Marshall. I didn't believe in ghosts as such, but thought that some form of projection of the mind was possible. Perhaps Crystal's thoughts had been so powerful just before she'd died that they'd somehow materialized. But why in my garden? Was there a link between my fictional character and Crystal Marshall? If there was a link, then I had no idea what it was.

As Alan breathed heavily through his nose, his orgasm nearing, I couldn't stop wondering what the link was. I'd not known Crystal Marshall, so why would she haunt me in death? Simply using her name in a book wouldn't call her from the grave.

What was I thinking? It hadn't been established that the girl was dead. Call her from the grave? I should be writing horror, not erotica, I reflected as Alan's moans grew louder. He wanted to come. He wanted me to wank him faster and bring out his sperm.

“I fancy a cup of tea,” I said, leaping to my feet and leaving the room. In the kitchen, I happened to notice a carrot in the vegetable rack. Wicked ideas filling my mind, I grabbed the carrot and ran my fingers along the tapered shaft. Would I really do it? I wondered, picturing his face as I forced the carrot deep into his rectal canal.

To write about anal sex, I'd need to watch the brown tissue surrounding his bottom-hole expand to accommodate the shaft. A carrot penetrating a man's bottom or a penis entering a girl's bottom, the effect would be the same. Male or female, carrot or penis, the brown tissue would stretch wide open just the same. I had to witness the enforced 103

opening of an anus, I concluded in my new-found wickedness as I returned to the lounge.

Alan's penis was still erect, and no doubt in dire need of wanking to orgasm.

But he'd have to wait until I'd satisfied my curiosity about his anus. The thick end of the carrot was almost two inches in diameter. I reckoned he knew what I intended to do as he watched me examining the vegetable. Would he enjoy the experience? I wondered, kneeling between his thighs and parting his tensed buttocks. Two inches?

It might be possible. There was only one way to find out.

Pressing the thin end of the carrot against the delicate tissue of his brown ring, I twisted and pushed until the end slipped past his anal sphincter muscles and drove into his tightening rectum. He writhed and moaned through his nose as I eased the orange shaft further into his private duct. His penis still solid, I reckoned that he was enjoying the experience. Perhaps I'd slip a carrot into my bottom later, I mused. God, what was I thinking? And what the hell was I doing to Alan?

I tried to halt the crude act but my hand continued to push the carrot into his inflating anal canal. Watching the brown tissue expand, I felt a quiver run through my contracting womb. My arousal heightening, I forced the carrot into his rectum until only the end protruded between his rounded buttocks. His head lolling from side to side, his penis rock-hard, I knew that he was deriving pleasure from my crude act. But I'd not intended to bring him pleasure.

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My mind awash with crude thoughts, I grabbed the wooden ruler and sat by his side. A loud slap resounded around the room and the ruler struck the back of his penis. Another slap, and another until the organ shrank and fell limp over his hairless balls. I continued to slap his penis as he writhed and moaned through his nose. He'd wanted to come so much, and all I was doing was thrashing his cock.
Poor Alan
, I thought, striking his deflated member again and again.
Poor used and abused bastard.