Alphabetical Orders

by Amelie

There were lots of times when we were altogether. We attended regular picnics and dances from work and I was in and out of Jane’s house most days.

  I didn’t pay any attention to Harry for many years. Even so, he stood out as the coolest of all the dads. He had time for everyone and smiled a lot, though he didn’t say much in public. He was about the best dancer and the most athletic of the bunch.

  There was this one time a couple of days before my sixteenth birthday that always gets me hot when I think of it.

  I know what you’re thinking. That Harry was a pervert, but he wasn’t. He was the most well-mannered, sincere gentleman I’ve ever me in my life.

  This is what I think of when I’m aroused.

  Jane and I have just finished watching a movie. I can’t remember what it was.

  My dad phones up and tells Harry that he’s got some kind of crisis with my brother and that he won’t be able to come over to pick me up as we’d planned.

  I said I’d sleep over. I always loved staying over at Jane’s. I might have been allowed if it hadn’t been school the next day. Instead, it was decided that Harry would drive me home. Jane needed to finish off a piece of homework on Shakespeare and her mum couldn’t drive, so I guess it was the sensible thing to do.

  Their car was a BMW. A big black motor that was pure heaven to be inside.

  I sat in the front seat and sank right down into the plush leather. It was more even more comfortable that our sofa at home.

  Before I closed the door, I took in a deep lungful of the night air. It was damp and smelled of autumn leaves.

  Harry got in and the car seemed to start up without him doing anything.

  I couldn’t get my seat belt on.

  Harry reached over me. That’s when everything changed.

  He was wearing a jacket just like always, but the top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned. His face was perfectly clean shaven and he was wearing some kind of cologne. When I got a smell of that up close, my mouth started watering, or at least I think it was my mouth. His chest had a light covering of hair at the top of it and the sight of it up close like that made my body quiver.

  As he took control, I froze beneath him. It was as if I’d been paralysed. If only I’d been able to stop time at that exact moment and been able to savour every part of the experience.

  I felt dizzy in his presence and felt a rush of blood in my head. It was truly wonderful.

  Sadly, he managed to sort out the problem with the belt in a couple of seconds.

  As he drove me home, he asked me questions. It was only the usual stuff, but I could barely speak, let alone say anything interesting. He must have thought I was a real idiot. In the end, he just gave up and turned on the radio.

  For the rest of the journey, I sat there pretending that he was taking me to start a new life for us. I imagined that he was running away with me and that we were totally in love.

  It was the kind of thing I read about in teenage magazines back then and I’ll never forget the whirl I felt inside my body that night. It still sets the butterflies in my stomach fluttering their wings.

  Every time I saw Harry Harding after that, I blushed. He must have known he’d sparked off an enormous crush in me, but he never let on. He was a too much of a gentleman to make me feel small for my feelings and I’ll always respect him for that.

  I is for Ice

  “Lie down,” he told me. His voice was firm and deep. It made me shudder inside. I wanted to do everything he said, yet I wanted to run away and hide at the same time.

  I lay on the bed and kicked off my shoes.

  “Take off your blouse.” I fumbled at the buttons, gave up after the first few and slipped it over my head.

  “You think you know what pleasure is?”

  I nodded.

  “You have no idea. I’m going to teach you.”

  There were goose-bumps all over my skin. My stomach muscles tightened.

  “Slip off your skirt.”

  The zip was easy to manage and I was out of my skirt in seconds.

  I lay in the bed feeling exposed and vulnerable, yet at the same horny and wanting my next instruction.

  I looked around me and took in the room for the first time.

  On the ceiling above the bed was a mirror. I could see the plush red duvet and the wrought iron frame, with me lying in the middle. My skin looked pale and my hair was spread over the pillow. I could see my tiny rose tattoo on my hip, just above the elastic of my panties.

  The wallpaper was old-fashioned. I’d say Georgian, but I’ve never been good with dates. The pattern was bold and busy and it made me dizzy if I looked at it for long.

  In the light of the candles that burned brightly over on an antique dressing table, the crystal fingers of the chandelier sparkled.

  The curtains, pulled tight and closing us off in our little world, were long black velvet. I wanted to get out of bed to stroke them, but my master was preventing me.

  He was short and chubby. He gave lectures on art down at the library once a month. That’s how we’d met. I’d gone along to look at depictions of Venus and the enthusiasm with which he talked had me transfixed. The guy was nothing to look at. His hair was receding and he had plenty of wrinkles. He dressed up in a ridiculous suit that was too big for him and made him look even more lumpy underneath than he actually was. He was definitely not the sort of guy I’d look twice at if he wasn’t presenting a class.

  That night, he was dressed all in black. A turtle-neck jumper hid his neck and the trousers he was wearing were tight. The effect was rather slimming and he should definitely wear those things more often. He still looked plump, though.

  He seemed taller, too. I looked down to see why. His boots had platforms that must have added several inches to his height.

  “Hands over your head.”

  As soon as they were, he took my wrists and cuffed them. I heard him clip the other end of the chains to the bedstead.

  My heart started to beat a little faster. I wasn’t sure I should really be doing this. After all, I barely knew the guy.

  I felt his hands take my ankles. He worked quickly and tied silk handkerchiefs around them and then knotted them to the bed frame.

  I was scared. Of course I was. But I was also getting hot and bothered and my pussy had started to throb.

  “Head?”

  I didn’t know if this was a noun or a verb, so I did nothing.

  “Raise your head.”

  I lifted it from the pillow.

  He reached over and me and covered my eyes with a blindfold. The world went completely dark. I heard him leave the room, the door closing quietly behind him and then there was nothing.

  I waited for a while. There was no sound and no action. I wondered what the hell I’d gotten myself into. Surely a woman shouldn’t give herself so totally to a man she barely knew.

  I began to feel frightened. I could feel my body trembling. I wanted out.

  When the silence was finally broken, my bones jolted with the shock. I heard the door open and there was clanking and banging in what I think was the corner.

  The first thing I felt was a tickling along my arms. A feather? I worked up to my elbows and lingered there. It moved up to my shoulders and to my neck. The sensation was incredible. It was so strong and delightful I almost wet myself with delight – it was a good job I went to the bathroom when I was told otherwise, who knows?

  The feather stopped. I wanted it back.

  Instead, there was something else. A bead necklace?

  In my mind, they were pearls.

  They rolled across my belly and slipped backwards and forwards along the insides of my thighs, the beads coming hard and fast and sending tiny shudders of pleasure through my body. He traced the outline of my knickers with them and then disappeared.

  I listened expectantly to the rustling next to the bed. I wanted more. I wanted something new. I wanted him to touch me down below and let my orgasm scream in the way it needed to.

&nb
sp; I heard the clicks of scissors from my right. I hated the idea of blades being anywhere near me.

  “Don’t,” I said. It’s what we’d agreed before we entered the chamber. I didn’t need any daft words to stop him, I just needed to let him know.

  “You’re not at risk,” he said, his voice deep and sexy. “There’s something I need to do.”

  His fingers took my bra. They caressed the cups and stroked the exposed mounds of my breasts. He reached under the strap and snipped.

  Oh My God!!! This set cost me a small fortune. I thought about telling him. Something about the situation stopped me. I wanted him to do it and to leave me naked in front of him.

  He took the other strap and snipped again. I felt him peel off my bra and knew my nipples were hard and full.

  His hands stroked their way down to my panties. He ran the tips of the scissors over the tops of my thighs. My back arched and pushed my pussy up towards him. Those chubby fingers of his lifted my panties at the hips and he snipped again. My nerve endings felt suddenly exposed and each of them tingled to let me know they were there.

  Now I was totally naked and at this man’s mercy. I needed him to take advantage.

  So why was he just standing there?

  If only I could have released my hands, I’d have put my fingers inside myself and rubbed my clit to let out all of my pent up desire.

  Instead I just had to wait.

  It was worth it.

  The shock on my nipple was intense. At first I couldn’t tell what the sensation was. A moment later, it came to me. Ice. Freezing cold ice.

  He touched the mound of my nipple first. I felt it swell even more, until it felt like it might burst. Then he took the cube and rolled it around the mountain of my breast and back up again as to stop it right at the peak once more.

  He shifted to the other side. The ice on my nipple burned. A drip rolled slowly and tantalisingly down my tit and onto my chest. Each part of its journey was painful yet exhilarating. I wanted to take control. To guide it down to my wetness and spread the pleasure.

  Now he had two cubes. One he took up to my lips. He ran it over my mouth and I reached out with my tongue to lick it and drink down the refreshing water. I was hungry for more. Greedy for the melt.

  I got so carried away that I forgot about the other cube.

  I only realised where it was when it traced the tips of my other lips. My labia were in agony and ecstasy all at once. He moved up to my clit and down to my vagina where he inserted the block and left it there. The icy melt dripped down to chill my anus.

  That’s when I was overcome with joy. My body jolted into orgasm, my buttocks lifting themselves from the bed as my spine pushed up into the air.

  It was wild and free for what seemed to be an age.

  I fell back into the mattress. My body was wet and the places that had been chilled now throbbed with a gentle heat.

  The man untied my feet and released my hands. I was too spent to move.

  I heard him leave and lay for a while.

  When I recovered my senses, I reached up and took off my blindfold.

  Everything looked as before, only there was a note on the dressing table.

  I went over to read it.

  “Darling, you were wonderful. I can’t wait until the next time. I have something rather special up my sleeve for you. See yourself out. I’ll make sure I replace your underwear so don’t you worry about a thing. xxx”

  I read it and smiled.

  When I closed the front door behind me, I knew I’d never go back. I just couldn’t expose myself to his whims like that. He might be dangerous.

  I guess that’s why I think of it during sex. I wonder what he had in store for me. What it was that was lurking up his sleeves. I reckon I did the right thing by staying away. I get to fantasise about what I missed out on. I never did get the underwear back. Instead I’m left with a bottomless pit of delight.

  J is for Janus

  I came across this guy on the internet. Janus. The Roman god of beginnings and transitions. He oversees passages, gates and doorways. He’s supposed to be there at the beginning of war and conflict.

  He also happens to have two faces, one for looking back into past and one for the future. It’s why he’s got a month named after him - January. He can look into the year before and the year ahead. It makes a lot of sense.

  Now that’s a talented fellow, you have to admit.

  So, I got to thinking. If a man can have two faces, he can have two of other things, right?

  Imagine he has two penises. Wouldn’t that be something?

  It set me off on a new fantasy.

  It’s New Year’s Eve. I’m in this weird place where it’s all a bit Vanilla Sky and this stranger takes me aside. He whispers in my ear that we should be alone and we find a bedroom away from it all.

  He asks me to lie down and I do.

  His mask has two faces.

  One of the faces looks at me. He pushes my toga up to my waist and rises above me. I watch him lift his gown and reveal two huge cocks. I can see the power in them, the way they stand firm and thick and point right at me.

  He takes out a tube from his pocket and squeezes something onto his hand. I feel his fingers at the mouth of my vagina as he covers me in lube.

  He takes more of the lube and reaches down again. This time I feel him at my anus. He circles around my sphincter and slides inside. There’s a moment of hurt, followed by a spark of pleasure that runs around between my legs and joins my vulva. His finger spreads the gel deeply and tenderly. I want him to go further in.

  His hands withdraw and he leans down towards me.

  At once I feel him penetrate my pussy and my ass. His cocks drive hard and I hear my gravely gasp. I throw my head back and let him ride me and ride me until I’m spiralling in a frenzy of ecstasy.

  I think of the words anus and Janus and just how similar they are. I remember that he oversees passages. I finally understand where he got his name and that what he’s doing to me is what he was always destined to do.

  I push my ass hard and let it run silkily along the staff of his lower cock. He’s deep and dirty. It feels as though his two cocks touch inside my belly when they spurt their hot sperm into me. The frenzy I’ve felt is nothing compared to the joyful bursts he’s giving me, the double whammy of back and front coming together and I wonder if I’ll ever feel my legs again.

  K is for Kitchen

  When we graduated, Ravi and I moved in together. People said we were doing the wrong thing. They told us we needed to see the bigger picture. That there was a whole world out there that needed to be explored. And other partners.

  We weren’t having any of it. Besides, it wasn’t as if we were getting married or anything.

  Our flat was what they called ‘bijou’. That’s such a nice way of saying tiny.

  Whether you called it bijou or tiny, it certainly was both. Our bedroom just about fitted a double bed and a wardrobe and you couldn’t open the wardrobe doors all the way because the bed blocked them.

  It was a split level flat and that made it feel better.

  Downstairs we had a small kitchen that was big enough for a small table. There was also a living room where we did all of our chilling out. In it we had a sofa, a TV, a small stool in case we had guests and a bookshelf. There was a mirror over the fire which we didn’t care for much, but left there because it made everything look bigger. There was a toilet downstairs and we had a wet room up the stairs.

  The reason we’d chosen the flat was the outside space. There was no way we could afford a garden or anything, but this place had a roof terrace that ran straight off the lounge. On a sunny day, we’d sit out there and read the papers and books or have friends over for a barbeque and drinks.

  I thought we would be very happy there and, for a short time, I was right.

  After a year life lost a bit of its sheen. I didn’t mind. The routine suited me. It wasn’t the same for Ravi, though. He started to wa
tch more TV and had less to say for himself when he came back from work. I thought he was just tired, so I gave him as much space as the flat allowed.

  I knew something was really wrong the night he came home smelling of beer.

  Ravi didn’t drink often. Since college, he’d pretty much given up alcohol altogether. He’d let me and our visitors do all the boozing. He just liked to watch us all having fun. I guess that I believed him.

  This one night, I was in the kitchen dressed in my apron and cooking from a recipe book. It was the way I’d decided I’d make everything better, to get to Ravi’s heart through his stomach the way my mother advised.

  I was making these great bean burgers. I had the black-eyed beans all ready and was making a lime mayonnaise to mix in with them before making the burger shapes. I’d finished with the mixer and the mayo tasted top notch. I was in the middle of mixing the beans and the herbs and spices when I heard the door open and close.

  Ravi came straight into the kitchen. I heard him drop his case on the floor and turned my head to see him drop his raincoat on the floor beside it. I kept on mixing and he came over to me and put his arms around my waist.

  He snuggled in close and nuzzled into my ear. That’s when I smelled the beer on his breath. Not that I said anything about it. I was having far too much fun for that.

  Ravi nipped at my neck and nibbled my ears, working his way quickly between the two and sending shivers of delight up and down my spine.

  His hands slipped under my apron and cupped my breasts. He always went for the breasts first. He was usually gentle with me there, but this night he grabbed hard and pinched my nipples tightly. He might as well have sent an electric shock straight through to my pussy.

  The temperature in the kitchen was already hot from cooking those beans, but it soon rose and became even steamier. I suppose that’s the thing about sex in the kitchen. It only happens when one of you is horny as hell otherwise you’d probably make it through to the bedroom.

  There was no way we were getting upstairs that night.

  His hands let my breasts alone and dropped to my thighs. He reached under my skirt and pulled hard at my panties until they were down by my knees.