Kevin sat back, his heart hammering faster than ever. She was like him. She agreed with him. She was a she! He tried to block out the urgent signals vying for his attention between his ears and his hips, distracting himself by searching for the first of the stories his new friend had listed, suddenly desperate to read more of her musical words – punctuation-free or otherwise.
The first review she had left was meant for a man with the dubious nickname of ‘BigIsBeautiful’, and her evident indignation was superbly and fully expressed. Kevin flicked to the story itself, expecting a few thousand words of pure filth, to judge from Annabelle's vitriolic put-downs, and he was therefore unsurprised to read of the debauchery that the author had led his girlfriend into during a card game with a friend. Kevin whistled in admiration at Annabelle's resolve and determination to uphold everyone's morals – to berate this sad, sick man – when the author bent his girlfriend over the card table and pulled her panties down in front of the friend, and then – god, how sick – invited the laughing friend to take his c... member and – god, he spread his girlfriend's legs until her cu... her woman parts were exposed – my god, really exposed and open and clearly wet and shining and pink and then the friend – oh you cannot... oh brave, brave Annabelle... how she must have squirmed when the head of the friend's member... oh my god it parted her... the girlfriend... parted her and... Oh! Entered her!
Kevin gasped, feeling Annabelle's front... no, her affront and... The poor, poor Annabelle... having to read such degrading filth, having to read about another woman being stripped and... oh, poor Annabelle's eyes having to scan those br... those words.... Kevin's hand moved faster and faster as the woman in the story was impaled, as his mind pictured Annabelle's suffering at reading such... Oh, and now the woman was crying for more!!! This was all those disgusting writers' faults!!! Poor Annabelle and oh that poor woman who was now... oh my goodness, she was screaming such vile... oh... oh damn, such a mess, so vile and evil was the story. Oh, the poor girl! Oh the mess!
The sun was rising, some eight hours later, before Kevin could finally collapse into his bed, exhausted from the terrible tensions, but happy that he could truly understand how that poor, poor Annabelle had suffered by reading such filth, just so that she could write so eloquently to warn others about the debauchery and the dangers of disease and mental degeneracy. He was happy too, that he'd finally plucked up the courage to respond to her wonderful reply to his earlier message.
*!*
Within a couple of days, Kevin and Annabelle had swapped more than a dozen messages, their natural shyness having been washed away by the force of their mutual indignation at the suffering they had been through to enable them to shine a light for all right-minded, decent people.
But it was at ten minutes to midnight on the first Friday night when life changed forever. Kevin had already worked out that Annabelle was English – her spelling of words like 'colour' and 'behaviour' was the proper way, and she was resolutely polite – but an aside, buried deep within a sentence, alerted him to something even more incredible. She had mentioned a large poster she had seen at, ‘of all places, the message board in her local park near the William Morris museum.’
With fingers that trembled more than they normally did when he was writing to his new friend, he casually asked whether Annabelle had meant the Morris museum in Lloyd Park. As he clicked 'send' he looked out at the floodlit edifice not one hundred yards from where he was sitting: the museum itself.
It had been genuine curiosity that had made him ask, with no thought as to what a positive reply would imply – so when a clearly querulous confirmation arrived the next morning it sent him into a state of utter confusion. It meant, obviously, that Annabelle wasn't just a fellow Englander, but... a local. Shaking his head to block a million confused thoughts, Kevin selected one of their mutually most hated stories as a distraction. By sharing the agonies that Annabelle must have gone through to review this particular piece of shallow smut, Kevin could centre himself. He read of the female softball team's descent from innocent office girls to cat-fighting harpies who take their struggles into the shower block after a game where they find the janitor cleaning the floors, but don't actually realise he's there until after they strip off ready for their showers and then walk in on him totally naked, their ti.. breasts bare, their… lady parts... visible, bare, some even shaved and then they find their fighting makes them feel... and oh god the debauchery! And that blonde with the soap! And they make the guy... And he puts it... and...
Ten minutes later, in a haze of surprise and tiredness, Kevin found himself composing the sort of message he would never have believed himself capable of, let alone in a position to actually, genuinely, have an opportunity to write. He asked Annabelle whether she might consider – no pressure, probably it was silly of him to ask – whether she might consider that they might, perhaps, just maybe, meet. Somewhere neutral of course, just so that they could acknowledge each other and so that he could profess his admiration for her moral rectitude in person. No strings, no need to worry if she was too reluctant or nervous, he'd quite understand...
Later, he told himself it was the speed of her response that brought forward such wild emotions. When he read that she would be ‘honoured to meet such an upstanding beacon of moral rectitude’, well he could hardly blame his body for reacting in such an explosive way, could he? After all, this was a woman who had suffered the vile depredations of those stories and had stood tall, who had read of such depraved and vile acts and let the writers know of her outrage, and who was now going to come together with him, Kevin, as his righteous cohort in their mutual, moral crusade! Yes, they were going to come together... oh... oh those nasty so-called authors, those purveyors of bare bodies and depravity... oh how poor Annabelle had to suffer at the sight of them... all that sweat and wailing and... oh yes, they would fight together... they really would come together in...
His engorged member in his hand, Kevin muttered an oath against all those writers who had made Annabelle suffer at their words and let forth a stream of ejaculate that was copious even by his own standards. That poor girl...
The next two days passed in a blur for Kevin as he prepared for the meeting that Annabelle had agreed to – in the local coffee shop. His mind was blurred with suppressed excitement at the thought of actually meeting a real woman... that is, a woman with decent values... his eyesight blurred from re-reading every message they had shared, and his hand... well that spent a lot of time in blurred activity as well.
On Sunday evening he finally stood in front of his wardrobe mirror and gave himself a critical once-over. He knew he was no looker, but he'd scrubbed up as best as he could and wore his best... well, only… suit, his shirt ironed, at least where it showed, and a new tie neatly knotted around his warm neck. With a final check that the, er, front of his suit trousers didn't look unusually lumpy – and still worried that the sock rolled up in his underpants might be misinterpreted (or slip), he marched out of the flat.
The thirty-five minutes he waited for Annabelle in the coffee shop were the longest of his life – made worse by the fact that he had got there thirty minutes early. Despite her being only five minutes late, Kevin was still shocked when he realised that the short, slender, demure looking blonde who stood peering nervously around the room was her. In a shocked daze, Kevin rose and waved. It wasn't exactly love at first sight, but they both knew that something special was occurring, and were it not for their fast and steady, strong and resolute morals, they might even have dared peck each other on the cheek, even on that first date.
It took only four weeks before Kevin dared to invite Annabelle back to his apartment one evening – so that they could share their moral outrage for once, and maybe work together on a critique – and even then, it was with considerable trepidation that the offer was made.
Somehow their moral strength won the day and they were soon settled before Kevin's computer, selecting a suitable – or rather, unsuitable – story to review
. Being the archetypal gentleman, Kevin insisted that Annabelle make the final selection from their mutual short list and they were soon complaining about the antics of 'Sexy Sioux' and her lascivious husband 'Donkey Pete' who was getting her to serve drinks to him and his friends wearing a playboy bunny costume that kept slipping.
“It's just so awful for the poor woman isn't it?”
Kevin nodded his agreement, letting loose a subtle cough to clear his throat before replying, “It is, Annabelle, and it's not even as if she's attractive enough to garner that response from those three guys.”
“I thought that she must look okay from what I've read so far,” Annabelle tossed her somewhat lank tresses, “I mean the writer says she's pretty much bursting out of the outfit rather than it just slipping all the time.”
“That doesn't make her attractive to me. Tarty, maybe, but all big and... well it's not really that attractive is it?”
Annabelle studiously avoided looking down at her slender form, nerves evident in her voice now, “I... um... I thought all men liked their women all... um...”
“Over-developed? Um, no... not all...” Kevin's voice rose slightly at the end of the sentence.
“You mean... that is, you don't?”
“N-n-no, I, er, I for one... that is, not that I ever really look or anything but sometimes you do need a, er, reference view...”
“To get perspective?” Annabelle offered.
“Yes! Just perspective, yes! But, um, purely from a perspective point of view I prefer smaller and firm... neater.”
“So you don't... um.... that is... I'm not... I mean...”
“You're... is it alright if I say 'ideal'?” Kevin's cheeks were out-glowing the room's one bare bulb.
“Oh, Kevin... um, that is... yes... it's very... nice. I thought... well I thought you didn't... like... and that's why we just… talk and stuff...”
“No! I mean, no... I... didn't think you'd take too kindly to me making a move or anything after all we've said about... things on the site.”
Annabelle hung her head but managed to say, “I wouldn't mind, honestly. I mean we wouldn't be doing anything like they do in the stories...”
“Ha, ha... no, of course, I mean if I could tell my friends... well the two guys I work with... if I could tell them that you were... I mean that we were… good friends... that would be all of my dreams come true...”
Annabelle looked up and turned to Kevin, “That would be an honour. I mean... Kevin I've gotten to trust how you think and... I would be happy to make you happy.”
“Oh, Annabelle... I... a kiss...?”
“Whatever you want, Kevin... whatever!” She offered her mouth to him.
Kevin drew her close and kissed her deeply, “’Whatever’ is the loveliest offer I have ever had in my life,” he managed, “Not that you need to worry about me wanting to be too naughty!” He kissed again.
When they broke for air, Annabelle was panting, “A bit naughtier than kissing? Or is that too much? I really do mean anything...”
Kevin drew her tight and his hands started to wander across her blouse, “Oh Annabelle, a little more sounds so very, very sweet, and I was just meaning that I wouldn't ask you to do anything like they do in the stories...” He pulled her blouse open, “I mean I wouldn't do this...” Her bra fell away as the clip fell open, “I wouldn't do this for my friends no matter how proud I was that you're so... oh my god, so beautiful!”
“You are proud, aren't you?” Annabelle moaned, her hand caressing the bulge in Kevin's trousers, “And I'm promising you now, I will do whatever makes you proud – like now, like the stories... anything.”
“Oh, Annabelle!” Kevin stood, drawing her upright, tearing at her remaining garments as she tore at his. The only delay to proceeding occurred when a stray sock appeared, somehow wedged inside his trousers, but was soon discarded during an emergency bathroom break.
His engorged cock entered her even before her shoulders made contact with his bed and the release for both of them was a chorus of moans and wails that had Mrs Patel from downstairs banging on the ceiling. As Annabelle's climax drew a howl from her, Kevin finally discovered the true joy of ejaculating actually inside a woman.
For every night during the next three weeks the pair of them never got beyond the first couple of pages of a story before their newfound passions overwhelmed their desires to uphold the moral integrity of the site's readers. They had to, of course, try to establish the real feelings of the characters by sampling their behaviour... And Mrs Patel was forced to buy a new broom after wearing out her old one.
*!*
It was Kevin's birthday that finally broke the cycle that they had got into, and they even managed to joke about it before Tony and Jim arrived to share drinks and give Kevin his cards.
“I finally get to show you off,” he told Annabelle shortly before the guys were due to arrive.
“Oh?” she laughed, “Am I wearing too much then?”
Her summery dress was quite low, but perfectly respectable. Kevin laughed, “That's just a story thing as you well know, but there again...”
“Kevin!” she pretended to be shocked, “Don't take advantage just because it's your birthday!”
“You saying you wouldn't?”
The doorbell rang, and Annabelle gave a sly, teasing smile. “Maybe I would...” She slipped the dress a couple of inches lower, her breasts at the point of exposure.
Kevin groaned, “That's why I've fallen for you, I think.”
“Get the door,” she giggled.
An hour later she found Kevin in the kitchen. “Happy, birthday boy?”
“Oh yes,” he kissed her, “And I have never been more proud in my life. They love you.”
“You do look a bit proud, but I wouldn't say a lot proud...” her hand trailed across his trousers.
“Oh, you're mean!”
“Maybe I wasn't joking earlier...” Annabelle flicked open one of the buttons of the dress, “I mean, I didn't notice that button coming open and I just hope I don't drop anything and have to pick it up...”
Kevin ran a hand along her shoulders, “You wouldn't dare...”
She bit her lip, spun on her heel and walked towards the living room where the guys were laughing about something. Heart pounding, Kevin followed.
“A toast to the birthday boy,” Annabelle was announcing as he joined them, “To my lovely guy!”
“Lucky guy, more like,” Tony said.
“Too true,” Jim added.
“Hey, I know it!” Kevin kissed Annabelle's cheek and gave her a nervous, panicky smile. “The luckiest guy of all!”
Annabelle's pupils were dilated as she gave him a tight smile and 'accidentally' dropped a packet of peanuts, “Oops!”
He watched with avid, eager eyes as she bent and the straightened slowly, apparently unaware that the dress had slipped so low that the tops of her areolae were now visible.
It was Tony who managed to mutter, “You're not wrong about being the luckiest!”
Annabelle gave a quizzical look before glancing down and squealing. She put an arm across her chest, giggling, unable to pull the top up with the drink and peanuts in her hands, “Well don't just stand there, Kevin! Make me decent!”
“Oh, you're already that,” he laughed, nervous tremors twitching in his cheeks, “But I like that look anyway. Proves how lucky I am.”
“Any lower and there would be no argument,” Jim tried.
Kevin bit his lip before saying, “True, but Annabelle's too shy for that sort of thing, even if it is my birthday.”
“Don't push you luck, Kevin,” she managed, “It might be your birthday, but I will prove you wrong if I have to!”
“Oh, I wouldn't want you to do that,” Kevin gave a tremulous smile. He ignored the groans from his friends and the shrug from Annabelle, and added, “It's me that will make my own luck!” He reached forward in a flash and yanked at the dress.
Annabelle squealed as it pooled around her
ankles and her arms jerked wide, leaving her standing in just tiny cotton panties, her small, firm breasts completely naked.
“As I said,” Kevin managed, “I am the luckiest guy in the world.”
Jim and Tony hooted agreement as Annabelle froze there, her jaw hanging open, a look of shock and something wilder etched on her face.
For reasons she couldn't even fathom herself, she offered her drink and the packet of nuts to Kevin, “Cover me!”
He took the items and then held one of her hands high, “Isn't she perfect?” Against a chorus of agreement, he looked into her eyes, “Story time?”
“Well,” she said quietly, “It is your birthday.”
Kevin gave a sly, eager smile and turned to his friends, “Guys? If you think she looks cute, you should feel how sexy she is!” he turned back to Annabelle, “Lose the knickers?” It might have been a question but need not have been.
Annabelle took back her hand, and as Jim and Tony stepped forward, she slipped the knickers down her thighs to join her dress, “Seems like birthday boy wants you to see my pussy.”
Beside her, Kevin unzipped, “Birthday boy,” he gasped, “Wants them to do more than see it. I'm going to fuck her guys!”
With a desperation that he no longer thought possible when it came to Annabelle, Kevin pushed her down to the couch and spread her legs wide, his eyes darting from the hot, moist pussy to the rapt gazes of his friends. He threw his trousers aside and quite literally dived on top of her, his throbbing cock impaling her as Jim and Tony cheered and, at the couple's urgent invitation, found out just how sexy she felt.
With six hands pawing at her nakedness it took less than three minutes for Annabelle to let loose a scream of delight louder than anything she and Kevin had been forced to read about. At the very first twitch and spasm of her belly muscles, Kevin exploded inside her, their eyes locked in mutual delight. Still panting and gasping, Kevin flicked his gaze first towards Jim and then towards Tony before locking with Annabelle’s once more. Her pupils widened for a fraction and her love-light burned even brighter as she gave the subtlest of nods.
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