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Authors: Stephanie Calvin

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BOOK: The Young Wife
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The girl was only naked at her waist. The rest of her was covered in a white plastic skin that moulded her frame into the sleek lines of a machine. Only the sweet bulging of the fleshy hips and buttocks betrayed her as a human. That, and the reddened fig of her ripe young cunt bulging out to us. Her arse was so high, and so open, that I could see both her bellybutton through the space between her thighs, and the tight pink bud of her anus as it nestled above the glistening lips of her slit. The muscle-woman had her hands free now, and she used them with cruel effectiveness. She angled her body in such a way that we could see her spread the little cunt of the platform girl with her thumbs, until we could look into the tight pink hole between the swollen lips. Then she released the tender folds, and turned so that we could see her licking her fingers. She gave the platform a little kick off, before standing on and spinning with it, showing the others what we had just seen. When she had spun around towards us more than once, she straddled the platform-girl so that she faced us over the girl's bottom, with one massive golden thigh flexed either side of the white waist. She rocked her pelvis back and forth so that the silver cocks flicked up and down, while her hands held the girl's arse-cheeks wide open for a few turns.
The platform girl was sucking hard on the black dildo, while the bodybuilder started working a thick thumb round and round in her defenceless arse, and I felt my cunt-lips rolling wetly under me. Anne was transfixed, with shining eyes devouring every nuance of the scene revolving in front of us. I heard a great ‘oh!' from the crowd and looked back in time to see the muscle-bitch mounting the platform girl. She made sure we could see the silver heads slipping into the tender cunt and the tightly puckered arse. She worked them smoothly in, until over half of each polished shaft was buried in the offered cleft. I saw the smears of fluid shining on the silver stems, and the powerful flexing of the muscle-bitch's meaty buttocks.
The platform girl was screwing up her long-lashed eyes, and sucking, sucking, sucking on the ebony shaft between her ruby lips. Saliva ran freely down her chin, and her arse-cheeks wobbled carelessly to the powerful thrusts of the muscle-bitch, as the double dildo stretched her reddened cunt and arse.
All around me hands went to wet pussies, as Anne's had crept to mine. Her fingers slipped in easily as I spread my legs wide. My howl of ecstasy was lost in the roar of approval as the bitch-queen furiously rooted the last shining inches of silver into the slave's soft flesh. I was coming in long, wet waves, when the muscle woman stepped aside and spun the platform round, so that we could see the open arsehole, the sucking mouth, the gaping slit of the slave girl spinning . . . spinning . . . spinning.
Four
I have no recollection of the journey home, nor the of the events that took place after the ‘performance' at the club, but I awoke, alone, in Anne's bed, feeling absolutely fine. No hangover or illness: just an intense feeling of security and well-being. I dressed in a borrowed frock and, not feeling the need, went downstairs without any underwear or stockings. Anne was making breakfast, so I sat at her table, and idly discussed the bizarre spectacle we had witnessed the night before, as if it were something one sees on a regular basis.
We needed to get back to the house, to consolidate the gains of the previous evening, though Anne told me that she had made some arrangements that morning which would make our life a lot easier in the weeks ahead. She had made some enquiries about professional help which were to bear fruit sometime during the next few days. In the meantime, we decided, it was up to us to soften Leo and his family up for the real assault. The truth is that, though I had said we must not kill Leo with excitement, the idea had been planted in both our minds, and it swirled beneath the dark surface of our conscious minds, like a predatory fish, waiting for the moment to strike. I had convinced myself that I only wanted to have revenge for the injury to my dignity, and I imagine that Anne had the same sort of idea. In any event, as soon as we had both eaten and washed up, we carried Anne's suitcases out to the car and proceeded to make haste back to my house. My house. That was the point, really. I was not going to be thrown out of my own home because of those two bitches, especially after what I had endured at the hands of Leo.
When we arrived, I pushed past the scowling pair as if they were shop assistants, and directed Anne imperiously to put her things away, while I went to see my darling husband. The harpies, as I mentally named them, hung around the door of Leo's room, while I made a great fuss of him, so I was obliged to ask them for some time alone with my dearest. Antonia looked as if she was going to protest, but obviously thought better of it. Vivian must have explained that the worm had turned, and that it was not going to be as easy to get rid of me as they had both hoped. Antonia was wearing a pair of tight cream jodhpurs, and I had to admit that she had a very nice figure. Her boots were deeply polished, and high to the knee, and her blouse was tucked neatly into the waistband of the close-fitting trousers. She had a very slim waist, and it made the bulge of shirt over her breasts look even more puffy and filled out. Her sleeves were rolled up her slim brown forearms, and the shiny auburn hair was piled high on her well-shaped head. Not a wisp of hair was out of place, and her neat little face had that clean look of someone who spends a lot of time creaming herself with expensive cosmetics. An altogether dainty little piece. How I hated her!
They reluctantly left, in the sulky manner of children who want to stay and hear what the adults are saying, and I locked the door behind them with a lot of fumbling, so that they would hear it and know there was no point in hanging around. How it must have galled them! I turned around and sat down to study Leo. It was the first time I had had the chance in weeks, and I was surprised at how well he looked, for someone who had nearly died. My comment the previous evening had obviously stung, for he was scrubbed pink and clean-shaven. He had suffered little damage to the nerves of his face, and there was no evident sagging; though, if one continued to look, the lack of expression betrayed the fact that all was not well. I felt a twinge of pity, or at least I think that's what it was. I stood up, and bent over to kiss his forehead, ruffling the thin hair of his head as I did so. I still admired the clean strength and silvery beauty of it, even though I knew that Leo himself was no more than a dirty old man.
‘That's what you are. Isn't it, Leo?' I said, ruffling the silver hair in an affectionate way. ‘A dirty old man.'
I crouched down to look into his face, and was surprised by the pleading look in the icy blue eyes. They blinked and moistened at their edges, and I remembered a film I had seen once. There was a man in it who had suffered a stroke, and his wife had stumbled on to the trick of asking him to blink if he agreed or disagreed with her statements. Once for ‘yes', and two for ‘no'. I decided to try it, and at the back of my mind it occurred to me that he was more likely to accidentally agree by this method, as it was twice as hard to say ‘no'. Yes, I was quite callous at that time, but my defence is that the recent events had unbalanced me. It awoke a curiosity in me to find out how much his mind had suffered. I stared intently into his eyes, as I explained what he should do, and he blinked once when I asked him if he understood. I decided to tease him a little, and to play on the lack of physical attention he had been receiving since our wedding night.
Are you a dirty old man, Leo?' I asked maliciously. ‘It's all right; I won't tell.'
He had a slightly wounded look, but even so he blinked, once, very slowly. I grinned and continued, saying, ‘I have been very naughty, Leo. Do you know what I have done?'
He blinked twice, and the look in his eyes was at once cautious and anxious.
‘I've been very naughty indeed,' I said, with a wicked little smirk. ‘I have gone out without any knickers on. In fact, I'm not wearing any now.' I paused, and his eyes grew noticeably wider.
I continued, saying in a foxy voice, ‘Would you like to see?'
One blink. Evidently some portion of his desires was intact.
I grasped the hem of the frock I had borrowed, and slowly hauled it, inch by delicate inch, up the smooth columns of my legs. Ever so slowly, the neat arrow of my bush slipped into view; then I tensed my big cheeks to thrust my pelvis rudely forwards. It bulged out to his mute gaze and, though he made no sound, I saw a muscle in his neck flicker with what I presumed was an attempt to speak. I crouched down again, and asked the wide-eyed invalid, ‘Would you like to see it up closer, Leo? I know you like it.'
One blink!
I turned around and stood, legs slightly apart, with my back to him. I looked coquettishly over my shoulder at him as I raised the light hem. This time I pulled at the front so that the material was stretched over the full curves of my backside. I heard his breathing catch and coarsen as I slid the taut edge of the dress up the broad, smooth slopes of my outer thighs. It caught at the first swelling of my cheeks, and I bent a little forwards to make the underside of my buttocks curve to the stretched hem. It drifted up the gentle concaves of my tensed bottom-cheeks, and floated up over the swelling mounds. High up on my hips I gathered it. I looked back over my hip, but could only see Leo through the periphery of my vision.
‘Isn't that nice, Leo, my lovely, big bottom sticking out like that? Can you see my pussy? I bet you can,' I teased, and rocked my hips from side to side. I let the dress fall to the sides of my narrow waist, and it wreathed my hips like a halo. I ran my hands down to my knees, and started to trace the taut muscles at the backs of my long, satiny legs. My fingers tickled the plump inner edges of my thighs, and I fluttered them up until they grazed the smooth curves at the beginning of my bottom. The cleft was warm, and my fingertips cool, as I flirted with the seam between my tense cheeks. I felt the damp tickle of my slit, and pressed into the flesh at either side of the wet fruit of tingling folds. I felt the outer lips suck wetly apart, and altered my stance so that they bulged back towards Leo.
My head hung down as I called back to him, ‘Do you like that, Leo? I bet you do. See how open it is? How wet? It needs a big cock to fill it. It is lonely.'
I stroked the slick folds with trembling fingers, and felt the throb of arousal dart up into my gut. A lazy coil of smoky lust unfurled, and I slid my hand more firmly against the slippery, hairless lips. They were so flushed and plump that my fingers rolled, and slipped over them, into the deep well of moisture that they hid. I felt the slick rim of my tunnel flinch at the contact with the narrow tips. I stroked the lips apart, then put my right hand underneath me, between my widespread legs, and laid my middle finger along the wet crease. The plumpness where my fingers joined my palm pressed against my mound, and I stroked the wicked finger along the damp crack until it settled inwards to the core of me. My other hand crept over my lower back to crawl like a spider down the crack at the bottom of my slender spine. I spread the fingers so that they spanned the tight cleft, then used them like a wedge to spread the resilient cheeks. I knew that Leo could see my other finger dipping in, and so I added another to it, to force the little tunnel open. My pussy clenched against the two indriving digits, so I tried to add a third. I could only dip them in an inch at first, but the little tunnel gradually accepted the slow stretching beak that stabbed at its wet opening, and soon I could push them in up to the second knuckle.
I have no idea what it was doing to Leo, but it made me ache for something bigger that would go all the way in, though I was stretched to the limit as it was. I pulled my hand out and smeared the juices all along my open crack. The smoothness of my perineum under the oily film maddened me with lustful feelings. I spread my arse-cheeks wider to Leo's gaze, and felt my anus tighten in protest. I purposefully relaxed it, so that it felt all sullen and pouty. Underneath it, the hot swell of my cunt throbbed with excitement, and I rubbed the foamy slit with the broad paddle of three flattened fingers. It felt heavenly.
I remembered who I was supposed to be doing this for, and reluctantly turned my mind back to the invalid who sat mute, and helpless, behind me. I bent over further, and peered back at him through the arch of my full and creamy thighs.
‘Don't you wish you could do it to me, Leo? I would let you do it now,' I said, speaking unevenly because of my awkward posture. Straightening up a little, I tossed my dark, curly locks and giggled at him. I could see the slack-lipped face over the side of my naked hip, so I gripped my bare cheeks again, and opened them so that he could see me too. ‘Would you do it to me, Leo?' I taunted him. ‘Would you fuck my pretty little cunt? No one else has, you know.'
I shifted posture again, and arched my back, so that the full globes of my bottom tensed, along with the deep hollow between the tendons and muscle of my lower back . . . Still my full cheeks were apart, and still I taunted him, saying, ‘Would you slide your big cock in there, Leo? Or would you like to put it somewhere else?'
As I said this, I grazed the wrinkled rays around my arsehole with one narrow-tipped finger, and inserted just the tip into the smooth, sticky hole. A dirty thought occurred to me, and I felt devilish, and cruel enough, to tempt the wreck that had been a lusty, forceful man with the idea of it.
‘Would you put it in here, Leo? In this little place?' I called out to him huskily. Then the dirtiest thing of all, ‘And would you make me suck it afterwards? After you had put it in there?'
Abruptly, I straightened and let my dress fall back to cover my broad thighs. My cunt throbbed, and I put my legs together and gave the muscles of my inner thighs a little squeeze as I turned to face him. I crouched down until we were at eye level again, and noticed how red his face was. Beetroot against the shiny frame of his silver hair. Perhaps I had overdone it a little, I remember thinking. I dismissed the thought with a callous, inward shrug. He was a bastard anyway.
BOOK: The Young Wife
13.17Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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