'My daughter loves England. Why don't you take her back with you? Just while I'm studying the contract.'
'But we have a deal, Ralph. You don't need to study the contract, just sign it!'
Laura was becoming agitated now, breathing hard into his shoulder, little shudders rippling through her as she ground her pubis into his.
'Things have changed, Tommy. We're not talking business now, we're talking family merger. Think about it, son.'
And Tom did think about it as Laura came in heaves and pants, her sinuous body slithering on top of his, her passion picking him up and sweeping him away into a shaking, quaking orgasm that rocked him to his bones.
It was a ridiculous idea. Quite insane. But there was something about this perverse and elegant beauty now slumbering on his chest that had turned Tom upside down. Maybe her father wasn't so crazy after all.
'I don't fucking believe it!'
The big globes of Meredith's breasts were shaking with passion and Tom couldn't take his eyes off them. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off them ten minutes earlier when she'd bounced to orgasm on his penis but now they wobbled with a different kind of emotion. Anger. Disbelief. The lust for revenge. He'd just told her that he'd married Laura Simons three days ago in Las Vegas.
She came at him with a champagne bottle, 130 pounds of nude and spitting fury. Her hair flew around her head in an auburn tangle and her tit flesh quivered as she aimed blows at his head. She looked magnificent. He took the force of the bottle on his arm and crushed her to him. She bit his neck.
He had known there would be no easy way to break the news to Meredith but he guessed that fucking her first had not been the most politic. The trouble was, she had been begging for it and she was too damned gorgeous to resist.
'Bastard! Bastard!' she spat into his face. 'How could you leave me here to flash my butt at Simons for two weeks while you're off shagging his daughter? How could you do it?'
Tom didn't answer. He should have told her at once that he'd fallen for Laura but she would never have consented to stick around and keep the old boy happy under those circumstances.
'And how could you breeze in here and take me to bed without mentioning that you married her?'
'I'm sorry, Meredith. I'm a bastard, I know. But I had to have you one last time.'
She burst into tears. 'You stupid sod,' she mumbled between sobs. 'You've married the wrong woman.'
And so he had.
Three years later
On the afternoon that Tom heard from New York that Ralph Simons had been ousted as President of the Simons Corporation he rang a detective agency.
'I want someone with a video camera. Someone discreet and experienced. I want them here in half an hour, if not sooner.
'Blimey, Mr Glass,' said a young woman's voice, 'they're all out.'
'Can you use a video camera?'
'I suppose so.'
'I'll pick you up in half an hour or you can tell Mr Dazzle I'm closing the account.'
As a result he found himself driving home with a tiny blonde in a loose cheesecloth shirt and a denim skirt cut off at mid-thigh. Roxy looked about fourteen.
'Shouldn't you be at school?' he said.
She guffawed, making a lot of noise for a small person. 'You must be joking, I left ages ago. I'm not as green as I look, Mr Glass, honest.' And she gave him the benefit of a bubblegum grin, revealing two rows of perfectly white teeth and wrinkling the freckled skin on the bridge of her turned-up nose. Tom was not convinced but said nothing.
He parked a street away from his house and led her to the garden gate. There was a four-year-old Saab standing in front of the garage with a tennis racket and cage of balls on the back seat. He made her video it.
'I'll go through the kitchen door,' he explained. 'You wait outside and follow me when I tell you.'
The back door was locked but he had a key. He'd been carrying it around for weeks, waiting for just this set of circumstances. He went through the empty kitchen and into the hall. He listened. From above came cries and moans. They were the sounds he had anticipated but nevertheless they set the hairs itching on the back of his neck. It was the sound of his wife making love.
He ushered Roxy up the stairs, the camera whirring, recording their progress. Tom crept into the spare room next to the bedroom and the girl followed. They moved silently though the precaution was unnecessary, for Laura, as Tom well knew, took her pleasures noisily.
'OH BABY, OH BABY, OH BABY!' she was yelling. 'Take me there, sugar, pleeese!'
Tom locked the door behind them and placed a chair against the wall adjoining the bedroom. He indicated to the girl that she should stand on it. Then he pulled aside the curtain on the mirror in front of her and watched her pretty mouth fall open as she stared into the room next door and saw the naked man and woman on the bed.
The two-way mirror was a toy he had installed years earlier and he'd had a certain amount of fun out of it in his bachelor days. Now he was going to use it to record the extra-curricular activities of his wife.
Laura and a broad muscular man were entwined on the white sheets. They made a handsome couple. It occurred to Tom that they would make excellent models for an upmarket sex manual. Here they were in the missionary position, for example; she was cradling his thrusting pelvis in the vee of her outspread thighs, one hand clutching the compact flesh of his pumping buttocks, the other stroking his neck with agitated fingers; he was driving into her in measured strokes, his fingers on the flattened bowl of her breast, his face buried in her neck.
Laura's black hair whipped across the pillow as her body shook in orgasm and her cries, formless shouts of ecstasy, could plainly be heard through the wall.
The man must have come too for, after a moment, the pair disentangled themselves and lay side by side on the bed.
'Get their faces,' hissed Tom and Roxy obliged. The bed head was against the wall and she had to stand on tiptoe on her chair and aim the camera downwards to capture their features.
Her rounded bottom beneath her short skirt was on a level with Tom's face. Her legs were bare and brown. A schoolgirl's legs, Tom thought.
Then the doorbell rang and Roxy looked at him. He shrugged. The man on the bed next door - Ray, Laura's tennis coach, Tom informed Roxy - lazily got to his feet and padded to the window. Then, stark-naked, he left the room.
After he'd gone Laura pulled on a pair of tiny white panties and a robe. Tom didn't recognise it. It was black and gauzy and almost completely transparent. Her big breasts and the treacle-dark cones of her nipples were clearly visible beneath it. The girl filmed her, the tip of her small pink tongue protruding over her bottom lip as she concentrated.
The bedroom door opened and Ray returned with another, younger man. He was lean and tall and wore tennis whites. He had a sandy shock of hair that flopped over his forehead. He held out a big hand to Laura as if to shake hers and she laughed and pressed it to her left breast over the flimsy garment she wore. Tom could imagine the silky warmth in the boy's hand, the wonderful weight of flesh and the imprint of the hard nipple in his palm. He groaned.
'Are you all right?' said Roxy, her voice full of concern. 'This must be terrible for you.'
'I'm fine,' hissed Tom. 'Just get it on film.' But he felt far from fine. There was nausea in the pit of his stomach and his cock was twisted in his pants. He eased it straight, hoping the girl wouldn't notice. How could he feel sick and turned on at the same time?
Next door Ray had produced a bottle of Scotch. Laura and the boy used tooth glasses from the bathroom and Ray drank from the bottle. The three stood close together, as if they were chatting in a crowd at a cocktail party. They looked awkward and there was much unnecessary laughter. Ray slid his arm round Laura's waist and kissed her. His cock was flying like a flag, the bared helmet a flaming red.
After a bit Laura pulled her mouth away from Ray and offered it to the boy. He dived at her, plunging his tongue down her throat. As he kissed her, Ray pulled the robe open to her wais
t, baring her tits, cupping and mauling them in his hands. The boy broke off the kiss to fondle her breasts as well. Then Ray took the whisky bottle and sprinkled drops on her puckered brown nipples. She laughed. The men took turns in licking the spirit off.
Things appeared to heat up from that point. The two males became overeager, crushing her between them as they grabbed and pawed her silky, opulent flesh. She let them do as they liked for a minute or two, the three of them still standing, groping and kissing and laughing. The robe was off her by now, pooled in a heap on the floor, and Ray was tugging at her tiny knickers, sliding his fingers under the waistband to paddle with the flesh of her bum.
She tore herself away from them and walked to the big easy chair in the window alcove. She leaned over from the waist and placed her hands on the arms of the chair. Then she bent her knees and waggled her bottom at them. The white cotton of her knickers stretched tight over the rotund globes of her buttocks.
'Female apes show their arses like that,' muttered Roxy, 'I've seen 'em at the zoo. Guaranteed to get the fellers going.'
Too true, thought Tom as he watched the tall boy impatiently tug his singlet over his head and kick off his shorts and jockstrap. Like his body, his penis was thin and long, it stood up against his belly, the tip covering his navel.
Laura reached behind her and eased the material of her panties off her bottom cheeks until her knickers were just a line of white in the divide of her shapely bottom. She pulled the strip tight, exaggerating the outthrust of her arse, defining the pouting bulge of her pussy.
Tom wondered how long it would take before they cut short the teasing and fell on her. He was almost of a mind to go in there and show them how it should be done.
The thin boy couldn't wait any longer. He tore the flimsy material from her rear and covered Laura like a dog on a bitch. His big spade-like hands grappled beneath her to catch her hanging tits and his buttock cheeks hollowed as he pistoned into her full steam.
It was over in a flash - jab, jab, jab and he was finished.
'I thought so,' said Roxy. 'Just like an animal. No staying power.'
Ray was at Laura now, on his knees in the crook of her outthrust rear, feeling between her legs for the slippery warmth of her opening and then guiding his stiff tool up and in. She leaned her head back as he pressed against the cushions of her buttocks and the two of them kissed - a long probing embrace.
'That's more like it,' said Roxy, obviously lost in the drama of the moment.
The pair began to fuck in a steady rhythm, savouring every nuance of their pleasure. The boy stood over them, his eyes wide and - Tom was impressed - half erect once more. The copulating pair looked up at him and Laura said something Tom didn't catch. The boy moved closer and Laura craned her long neck to capture the tip of his tool in her mouth.
It was fully erect now and she bobbed her head on it but the position was too difficult - the chair was in the way. The boy retreated and, to Tom's shock and excitement, Ray put an arm around his waist.
'Oh yes,' whispered Roxy.
The boy turned to the man on his knees as he steadily buffeted his loins against the soft buttocks of the woman. For a moment Ray contemplated the long wet wand of flesh swaying in his face, then he wrapped his fingers round the shaft and plunged the glans between his lips.
'Oh yes,' said Roxy.
Ray had one hand hidden beneath Laura's body, at work between her legs, the other cupped and explored the thin boy's sandy-haired balls. He licked and loved the long white shaft of his cock from stem to stern and then took as much of it in his mouth as he could. Ray was obviously skilled at more leisure activities than tennis.
Laura thought so too, Tom could see that. She was watching over her shoulder as Ray sucked the boy. Her eyes were half shut and smoky with desire. Tom knew that look well. She was only just getting going. It looked like being a long afternoon.
'I'm sorry, Mr Glass,' said Roxy, 'I can't hold the camera steady any more - my arms are tired.'
It wasn't just that, Tom could see. She was shivering all over as if in a high fever and her denimed pelvis, on a level with Tom's face, was making tiny thrusts backwards and forwards in mid air. He had no doubt what she was in need of.
He took the camera from her and put it on the floor. She made no move to get off the chair but stood there quivering, her eyes big with wonder as she gazed at the threesome next door.
Tom lifted the hem of her skirt to her waist. She wore pink cotton panties embroidered with tiny white daisies around the waistband. In the vee of her legs the material was dark with her juices and clung wetly to the mound of her sex. The aroma of a woman on heat met Tom's nostrils as he moved in close to her, so close that her undulating mons almost brushed his lips.
'Please,' she whimpered in a small voice. He wasn't sure whether she meant him or the entwined lovers next door. In any case, though his heart was hammering beneath his ribs and his cock was pulsing in his pants, he made her wait. He wanted to savour the sight of this teenage wet-dream dancing with helpless desire.
He tugged her skirt off, pulling the elasticated waist over her hips. For a small girl they were rounded and womanly, as was her bottom. He contemplated her from the rear. Her buttocks were full and firm, threatening to burst from the tight pink panties as she squirmed on the chair before him. He yanked her knickers down without ceremony, savouring the sight of the wet gusset clinging to the folds of her moist pussy. She placed a hand on his shoulder to steady herself as she stepped out of them. It remained there, her small fingers finding the nape of his neck and pulling him softly, maybe unconsciously, towards her naked sex.
Still he made her wait, unbuttoning her shirt to gaze on her small freckled breasts, their nipples carnation pink and sticking up like little pegs. He reached up and felt them, the soft hot flesh seeming to glow in his hand.
'Oh,' she murmured, 'oh blimey.'
He turned and looked through the mirror. The threesome had changed position. Ray now sat in the chair and Laura was sitting on his loins with her back to him. In the double vee of their spread thighs could be seen the lolling pouch of his testicles and the root of his shaft spearing up between the spread lips of her vagina. She had a hand in the knot of hair at the base of her belly and was rubbing and stroking her clit.
The thin boy stood in front of them, presenting his genitals for stimulation. Laura was sucking his balls, taking them in turns into her mouth. Ray was licking his ruby-red glans and pumping the shaft of his cock with dexterity.
Tom turned back to Roxy. He traced his tongue at snail-like pace up the sides of her thighs, which were wet with her excitement. She shuffled her feet apart and made little mewing sounds as he approached her weeping pussy. The hand on the back of his neck was more insistent now; he could feel the sharp pressure of her fingertips as her agitation grew to boiling point.
The lips of her quim were pink and puffy beneath a down of hair. He blew on the curly wisps and her whole body shook. He extended his tongue tip and slyly insinuated it into the blonde bush, touching her sex for the first time. She squealed as if stung by an electric current and yanked his head into her crotch with both hands.
He held her bottom cheeks as he worked his tongue into her vagina. He licked her from north to south and back again, squeezing that pliant bum flesh as he did so, savouring the youthful succulence of her cunt and arse.
She was breathing heavily, both her hands entangled in his hair, her hips undulating to an urgent rhythm as he pleasured her. He transferred juice from her sex to his fingers and ran it round the tiny circlet between her bottom cheeks.
'Oh, oh,' she cried as he kissed her pussy in earnest, finding her clit with his lips and breaching her anus with his fingertip.
Then she was coming off all over his face, flooding his mouth with salty juices, and jumping and hopping on the chair so hard that Tom had a vision of them both toppling over and crashing through the wall into the bedroom next door just as Laura came to a climax on Ray's cock and
the thin boy fountained his spunk down the tennis coach's throat.
The divorce was uncontested - but expensive. Tom wrote it off to experience. On a fuck-by-fuck basis it had almost been worth it.
Teleny
This famous work - famous for being frequently ascribed to Oscar Wilde - was first published in London in 1893. Leonard Smithers, the publisher, moved in London's fin-de-siecle literary set and had dealings with Aubrey Beardsley, Ernest Dowson and - Oscar Wilde. Wilde certainly read the manuscript of Teleny as it was passed back and forth in the homosexual community but whether he had a definite hand in its composition is not known. What is certain is that admirers of his mischievous wit will look in vain for it here.
Teleny or The Reverse of the Medal is an intense novel of gay passion in which the narrator, Camille Des Grieux, tells the story of his unhappy affair with the inspirational musician, Rene Teleny. At their first meeting it is evident that the two men are soulmates but social propriety and Camille's discovery of Teleny's affair with a beautiful countess keeps them apart. But their alienation takes its toll on both. In despair, Camille wanders the city streets at night until he finds himself standing on a bridge, contemplating a suicidal plunge into the swirling dark waters of the river below...
It was late at night, and I walked on without exactly knowing where my steps were taking me to. I had not to cross the water on my way home, what then made me do so? Anyhow, all at once I found myself standing in the very middle of the bridge, staring vacantly at the open space in front of me.
The river, like a silvery thoroughfare, parted the town in two. On either side huge shadowy houses rose out of the mist; blurred domes, dim towers, vaporous and gigantic spires stared, quivering, up to the clouds, and faded away in the fog.
Underneath I could perceive the sheen of the cold, bleak, and bickering river, flowing faster and faster, as if fretful at not being able to outdo itself in its own speed, chafing against the arches that stopped it, curling in tiny breakers, and whirling away in angry eddies, whilst the dark pillars shed patches of ink-black shade on the glittering and shivering stream.
Eroticon Heat Page 24