The Young Wife (6 page)

‘Do you want to come to my room?' she asked, and the question split the silence like the cracking of a whip.

I felt my insides soar with sick delight as I answered, ‘Yes', and we rose unsteadily, circling round the table towards each other, like tigers entering a jungle clearing. The last steps before I touched her felt like they were drawn out in time, and I watched my own hand, like a stranger's, drift trembling to her chest. The first contact set off little rockets of activity in the back of my skull, like sharp, cold water from a shower. I couldn't think, and the actions of my body were instinctive and immediate. My free hand curled around her waist, and drifted up, under the edge of her jumper, along the warm, taut skin of her side. My fingers grazed the straps of her bra, and came to rest in the unfamiliar hollows of her back; my hand fluttered nervously against the ropy sinews of her lower spine, as I tilted my head for the touching of her lips. Her dark head moved in a blur to my throat, and the shock of her naked tongue against the delicate skin of my neck made me gasp. She licked urgently upwards to the edge of my jaw, then swooped her soft mouth over mine to gather up my expelled breath. Our lips rolled softly together, in the lightest of touches, until her quick and clever tongue slipped out between the rolling, coral-pink swell of her soft lips, and darted into my mouth. Surprise after surprise, but I went with the feelings that her probings had produced, and coiled my tongue around hers, in a clumsy dance of sudden heat and tingling. Her cheeks were cold, and the soft skin thrilled me where it brushed against my own. I started to roll her jumper up, and was surprised when she grasped my hands in hers, stopping me.

‘Not here,' she said, and drew me with her as she walked towards the stairs. ‘We must go to my room.'

I made no protest, being content to let her lead me up the stairs, while I studied the lazy swinging of her hips and shoulders. Her bare feet whispered against the boards, making soft counterpoints to the swishing of her calico trousers. The trousers bunched in little puffs around the broad belt that held them up, but they were drawn up tight around the swell of her bottom, and the seam was buried deep between the tight cheeks. The rolled-up ends exposed the tanned flesh of her lower calves, with the flexing of the large tendon at her heels drawing my eyes to its ropy strength. The shadow of her slim legs showed in a patchy outline through the gauzy fabric, and I, unable to resist, stroked the firm curve of her hip.

She paused to let me stroke her hips and lay my head against her lower back, and for a moment we stood awkwardly on the steps while I panted, in hushed excitement, against her spine. Then she resumed the stately upward progress, until we stood before the threshold of her room. She let my hand go, and turned, so that I could pass before her into the curtained dimness within. I stepped hesitantly past her, and stood with my back to the door, listening to it shut over the sound of my own harsh breathing. I felt her move behind me, and my mind gathered stray impressions, while her hands busied themselves at the fastenings of my dress. It slipped away from me, to the floor, letting the slight chill of morning air from the open window cool my bare skin. I was wearing only the plainest of underwear, and suddenly I was ashamed of the plain whiteness of my bra and panties. I wished I could be dressed for sacrifice.

Quick fingers snapped the catch of my bra, and my breasts were pushed forward, free, while the warm breath of Anne tickled on the short hairs of my neck. I shuddered, and the rosy tips of my tits swayed in gentle time to my quivering frame. Anne's cold fingers slipped around my ribs and clutched in greediness at the swollen tips. She pinched both stems with hard fingertips, while the bra gathered in the crooks of my updrawn elbows. I gasped, and pushed my buttocks back at her to steady myself, until I felt the roughness of her trousers rubbing, and the tine of her belt scratching at my lower spine. She released me, for a moment, and I heard the whisper of her jumper sliding over her hair, then the first shocking contact of her stiff, bare nipples against my back. Her perfume rose in waves around me, and I swayed in a near faint when she popped the clasp of her belt open. The trousers hissed over her skin, and she flicked them, with a foot, across the polished bedroom floor. They struck against the skirting board, and the movement drew the attention of my overheated mind. As I turned my head to look, she stopped the movement with a gentle hand and whispered, in the gentlest of sighs, ‘Don't. Not yet! I want to play with you like this.'

I stood, stiff-limbed, while ripples of goose bumps ran over my naked flanks, and felt the play of Anne's warm breath on my back. The first light tickle of her fingers at the swelling of my hips almost passed by unnoticed, such was the fevered state of my mind. There was too much sensation. Too much that was new. The unfamiliar room, the presence of another woman, naked at my back, the vulnerability of my circumstance.

Anne's warm hands slid over the tense muscles of my hips, and met over the flat plain of my lower belly, just above the waistband of my knickers. She pushed the tips of her fingers, like blunt knives, between my skin and the tight hem. The sheets of muscle at the side of my bellybutton fluttered at the contact of the soft pads, and I caught my breath when they slipped, ever lower, to stroke and scrape at the flattened tangle of my pubic hair. Anne was leaning heavily into my shoulders, and I felt the hair above my ear float away from her whispered words.

‘What are you hiding in here, Jessica?' she asked, and I could not frame a reply, for one of those impudent fingers had stroked its way, through the crisp hair, down to the seam of my sex lips and now pressed lightly against my bud. I felt the skin of my clitoral hood slide over the little nub, as Anne's knowing finger rubbed its way between the moistening lips of my sex. Slow, delicious tingles spiralled lazily up my spine, like bubbles fizzing along the stem of a straw, and my hips rocked unconsciously with the flares of pleasure produced by Anne's manipulations. My cheeks brushed against the silky fronts of Anne's hips, and the realisation of her total nakedness poked through the fabric of pleasure that her finger was weaving in my mind. She was wearing no knickers, and the fleeting contact of her pubic hair against the crease of my bottom confirmed this. I pushed my bottom back more firmly, to feel her nakedness better, and the front of her melded into the back of me like we were made of plastic. Her breasts bulged against my shoulder blades. Her stomach sucked against the sweaty hollow of my back. Her thighs flexed in hot, muscular contact against the straining backs of mine.

I felt cool air slip in between us as she moved her left hand away, out from the restriction of my panties, and into the warm space where my buttocks pressed against her taut inner hip. Her fingers curled around the full flesh of my bottom, where it tensed beneath my cotton pants. She gathered up the material and, in one smooth movement, pulled it up into the tight cleft between my cheeks. It felt oddly, uncomfortably sexy, to have my bottom divided in such a way. The pressure on my clit increased as Anne's hand was pulled tightly against my cunt by the drawing up of my knickers at the front, by the tugging at my behind. I tilted my upper torso away from Anne, to ease the pressure between my cheeks, and the heavy globules of my swollen-tipped breasts hung like ripe fruit. I moved my right arm over Anne's, so that she could twist around my hip, and burrow even deeper between my thighs. I felt a finger slip wetly into me, between my puffy lips, and wriggle like a little snake along the crease.

The edge of Anne's hand kept the pressure on my clitoris, as her fingers squirmed up into my pulsing slit. I bent forward, rudely opening my legs to strengthen the stance, and braced my upper body by clutching the corded muscle above my knees with both hands. The hand at my rear was adjusted, and I felt the slim fingers joining in the seeking of their fellows at my front, A sudden stretching sensation in my sex heralded their entry, and I groaned in utter abandon as Anne smoothly pushed a couple of fingers in. She leaned away from me a little, and her right hand ceased to play around the entrance of my cunt, and concentrated on the pearly nub that was the centre of my pleasure. Her other hand had found a rhythm that was clearly pleasing to us both and, with each inward movement, I felt the entrance of my vagina yield a little more.

‘God, you're so fucking tight!' Anne murmured, even as I felt her attempt to add another finger.

‘No, too much,' I protested, as the finger joined the others within me. She slowed her pace, and shortened the movement of her hand, and I trembled on the edge of acceptance. She kept me there, on that delicious precipice, by the perfection of her knowledge. She knew, by the shudders of my hips and the shivering in my legs, that I was close to coming.

Moving swiftly, she withdrew her hands and rolled my cotton pants down, over the swell of my hips, until they were stretched taut across my widespread thighs. She rubbed her whole forearm down my perineum and over the swollen lips of my cunt, then back up, to fiercely enter me again with three bunched fingers. My brazenness increased with my excitement, and I tilted my hips up to her, so that she could push her hand more rudely into my stretched and slippery pussy. I groaned, and squeezed the walls of my vagina against the insistent press of her slim fingers. She slapped me, once, twice across my broad cheeks, and I came against the thrusting, beak-like intrusion of her hand. My head snapped up, and I howled with ecstasy.

‘That's it! Come,' she cried, and slapped me once again in delirious arousal. I felt her hand slip out of me, as I fell to my knee, with my pants tangled around my lower thighs. I turned my head groggily, and her figure swayed above me as my eyes struggled to focus. I watched as she sat down before me and lay on her back. Her brown thighs lolled wide, and the slit below the thin stripe of her pubic hair gaped pinkly out at me. I saw her hands float down, dreamlike, to flirt with the glistening opening, and watched, fascinated, as the pale ovals of her fingernails disappeared into the puffy crack. She had no ring on her fingers, and her right hand slipped up, unhindered, until only the last knuckles could be seen. Her other hand had slipped beneath her, and she raised her hips up so that she could delve between her plump cheeks. I clearly saw her pink and hairless anus accept the probing of the middle finger of that hand.

I rolled over on my naked hip to her, so that I could lie on my side and watch her masturbate. My eyes had adjusted to the dimness, and every detail of what she was doing was plain to me. I was especially fascinated by what she was doing to her arse, and my gaze was concentrated there. I lay as if in a dream and devoured the sight of her anus sucking at that slim finger. It bulged a little outwards as the slim stem withdrew, shining from the juices that were dribbling from the workings of her other hand.

The noises of Anne's panting mingled with the wet sounds of her masturbation, until it was difficult for my ear to separate the two. I saw her arsehole tighten, and her cheeks bunch ever tighter against the hand between them. It looked like some kind of sandy-coloured spider crouched in the seam of her bottom, probing with one jointed leg into the crinkled hole that they framed. Her huffing and puffing changed to low animal groans, and the firm muscles of her inner thigh strained so that the tendons were thrown into sharp relief. Her upraised stomach rippled with contractions as she jerked her hand inside herself. My own stomach tensed as her crisis approached, until there was a knot of tension under my heart. All at once she collapsed, letting her bottom thump down on to the spider. Its legs fluttered weakly under the bulge of her cheeks, while her other hand slipped out to dangle against her inner thigh. I hauled myself over to her on shaking limbs, until I was crouched on all fours above her. I gently let my upper body down to rest on hers, and felt the answering clasp of her damp thighs around my waist. My knickers were in a tangle round my ankles, so I kicked them off, and drew my knees up under me again, so that my bottom swayed loosely to the cool air that drifted in the open window. I lay like that, with my head on her sweat-beaded chest, and listened to the heavy thumping of her heart. My head rose and fell gently, with her breathing, and her hand eventually walked up the wet coils of my hair to rest on the crown of my head. Her heartbeat was slow and steady before she next spoke, and I smiled into the golden skin of her chest.

‘You are going to have to return to that house, Jessica,' she said, ‘but don't worry. I shall be going with you.'

I murmured some sort of thanks against the firm mound of one breast, but I was lost in the feeling of the coolness in my cleft and the loose, lazy sensation in my bottom.

‘I have a plan,' she continued, ‘and I think you're going to like it.'

I listened to her outline of what we would do. Her voice rumbled pleasantly up from her chest, and I felt the first warm stirrings of hope light a stray ember in my stomach. The slide into depravity began there, and I would love every minute of it.

Three

The first step to freedom was, oddly enough, my return to the place that I had come to think of as a prison. Leo's house.

As Anne pointed out to me, it was also legally mine, and Leo's relatives had no right of abode there against my wishes. Though I could have happily whiled away the afternoon in Anne's big bed, I was given no opportunity to try, as Anne insisted that I re-establish my rights to my own home as soon as possible. Even so, it was after three before we were ready to leave her house. There was a lot of exploratory fumbling, especially on my part. Having opened the avenue of Sapphic passion, I was loath to close it down again so quickly.

‘Business first,' said Anne, as we got into my car and strapped ourselves into the deep seats. ‘You must not let them drive you out. You are going to take charge of your life, and your home, even if it means calling the police to remove them. Though, if our plan is to have any success, it will be better if we can manipulate them into staying.'