Succumbing (Sinful Submissions Book 3)

by Ed Bemand

  Though it had been neglected in the caresses, Hannah’s own sex was wet enough to drip and a few minutes after her pleasure had subsided Jen was recovered sufficiently to offer Hannah release with just a few deft movements of her fingertips.

  It was after their second encounter that Jen tried to tactfully warn Hannah that she wasn’t really looking for an exclusive relationship with anyone. Though obviously uncertain Hannah wanted to have whatever she could of Jen. Having experienced her first delicious tastes of pleasure with her she couldn’t imagine letting Jen go. Better to share her than to have nothing.

  The following evening, Jen was due to have a liaison with an old friend and semi-regular fuck buddy. They had arranged it about a week ago, before she had met Hannah. She could have cancelled it but that would have made it seem too much like she was in something serious. Deep down she knew that she was mostly just doing it to prove that she could. She went along to it and made no secret of what she was doing to Hannah but her heart wasn’t in it.

  Her mind kept wandering and she found it difficult to focus on the pleasure in front of her. Her friend was used to the peculiarities of Jen’s mind and the sporadic nature of her passion and attention and didn’t take it too personally. When pressed, Jen reluctantly admitted that she had someone else on her mind. Her friend was sensible enough to tell Jen what she needed to do. It sounded ridiculous at first but she couldn’t deny that Hannah had stirred something unexpected in her. She left and went to find Hannah.

  It was late at night and Hannah was asleep. Jen was persistent and kept pressing the doorbell until Hannah answered the door in a dressing gown looking still half asleep.

  “Jen, what is it?”

  “Can I come in?”

  “Of course. Is something wrong?”

  Jen pushed passed her into the room and Hannah shut the door behind her. Jen practically flung herself at Hannah, kissing her hungrily.

  “Let’s go to bed.”

  “Sure.”

  There was a hunger and passion between them that night, they were both active participants, craving sensation and lusting for each other. Their bodies formed a circuit, each with her mouth against the other’s pussy. It was a feedback loop. The pleasure they stimulated drove each to new heights and greater efforts. There was no place for shyness, fear or embarrassment.

  Afterwards they kissed, the juices of their passion mingling between their lips. They could taste the combination of their lusts on each other and they loved it.

  They lay curled in each other’s arms, their bodies against each other, legs entwined, breasts pressed together. Their pussies touched and the lingering charge from before was rekindled. They found themselves moving with each other, exerting delicious pleasure as wet skin rubbed wet skin. Exhausted by passion’s labours, they spent hours slowly rubbing against each other, drawing forth soft whimpers and moans from each other at each new climax. It was a long night and what sleep they had was fitful dozing. By morning they were lying together dazed and drained of all lust. Neither wanted to let go of the other. It felt as though they had poured out their very souls together.

  The next night, their fourth together, Jen introduced Hannah to her cock. It was a tool that she had great affection for and had claimed many of her lovers with it over the last couple of years, female and male. Hannah giggled nervously when Jen first showed it to her. The dildo was detailed with the features of a real cock, if rather on the large size. It was made of some kind of plastic and it was bright pink in a shade that no human cock would ever want to be. Jen had always loved wearing it. It was attached to a leather harness and the back end of the dildo had a plug that entered Jen’s pussy. She was able to guide the dildo in such a way that it gave both her and her partner wonderful sensations. She had also fucked herself with it in many idle moments, but preferred to be the one on the inside of the straps using it on other people.

  “Are you ready?”

  “I’ve never...”

  “This isn’t that different from what we’ve done already. Don’t you want to feel me in your pussy?”

  “I’m glad it’s you.”

  “Now lie back and open yourself for me, I want to fit my cock all the way inside you. Can you take it all?”

  Jen stroked Hannah’s body with her fingers, parting her legs and gathering the moisture that was forming between them. She smeared Hannah’s juices all over her pussy then positioned the head of her cock at her opening.

  “It’s very long, isn’t it?”

  “Thank you, but you can take it, can’t you?”

  It took some persistence and effort, but she could. Hannah found a new pleasure as Jen fucked her. Slow strokes opened her pussy and let the cock push deeper into her. The pressure of the back of the dildo against her clit drove Jen to build intensity, fucking Hannah harder. They climaxed together and then lay entwined, the cock still buried inside Hannah.

  They spent a lot of time in bed together in the weeks that followed.

  Hannah took great pleasure in the perfect smoothness of Jen’s pussy. She was tempted to emulate it and shave herself completely, but she found she preferred to keep the hair over her pussy, though she kept it trimmed and took care over removing stray hairs from around her lips.

  One night, at the tail-end of a particularly enjoyable session of love-making, Hannah said something. Something that scared Jen, but then, so much of what had been happening recently was scary and new to both of them.

  “I love you Jen.”

  Hannah looked deeply into Jen’s eyes but she seemed reluctant to hold the gaze. Jen had never said it to anyone before, not even family. She had never lingered for long enough with any of her previous sexual partners for things to have got the chance to become serious. She preferred it that way. She had always liked feeling free, but with Hannah, things felt different.

  “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have…”

  “No, it’s fine. You just took me by surprise.”

  Hannah was flushed and embarrassed. Jen embraced her tightly.

  “I love you too.”

  And she did, at that. To her surprise, Jen found herself growing to like being with one person. She couldn’t stop herself from looking at people that caught her eye and maybe thinking the odd dirty thought, but she knew that at the end of each night it was Hannah that she wanted to feel pressed against her body. Hannah had never been with anyone else and Jen hadn’t tried since that first time after being with Hannah.

  Almost by accident Jen found herself realising that more than six months had passed since she had been with anyone else. Somehow it didn’t bother her. This was the most serious relationship that she had ever had with anyone, and to Hannah this was all she had ever had. The transition from being lovers to girlfriends happened without thought. To her surprise, Jen was finding that she could feel comfortable just being with one person. Hannah. Hannah was still awash with the glow of first love.

  As Hannah became more comfortable with both Jen and herself she could express herself better and was happier taking the lead. Not that she could imagine herself possessing the almost predatory level of self confidence that Jen had. Anyway, Jen preferred to be in charge most of the time.

  Jen didn’t seem scared or nervous about anything. It made it easier for Hannah to act like that too. Just having her there stopped Hannah from being afraid.

  Hannah surprised herself with how ready she was to embrace new things now that she had Jen. She had always kept her hair long, consenting only grudgingly to a trim when the ends became too ragged. Following Jen’s example she had most of her hair cut off. She didn’t go to the cropped extreme that Jen favoured though. On the one side her hair reached down to her chin in a shaped bob, on the other side it was cut much closer. It was a strong look that provoked reaction. It was something that she would never have considered for herself before. Hannah’s style of dress changed too. She wasn’t so much copying Jen’s style as becoming more comfortable with herself. More willing to stand out and
be noticed by people.

  She never used to like attention. She had always preferred to hide in the background. Being with Jen made her like being noticed. They made a beautiful couple and she liked it when people saw them.

  It wasn’t just Hannah that gained strength from their being together. Jen had always preferred to keep herself distanced from other people. She found it easier to be detached. She didn’t like to talk about her past or her problems. Living in the now was simpler. Jen found herself able to tell Hannah everything, her secrets, her desires, her pain. With other people she would have felt embarrassed to expose such weakness. She liked being strong and liked people thinking that she wasn’t scared of anything. Telling Hannah these things didn’t make her feel weak. It made her feel stronger.

  They were good together and they loved each other.

  They had two years together.

  Six: How Alastair got his scar

  The trouble with going to brothels, other than the price, was the way that they made you feel constantly outnumbered. Thus ran the logic of Alastair. In a brothel you’ve got locked doors and unfamiliar corridors in between you and the outside world and it’s safe to assume that whatever the girl starts saying is inarguable. It doesn’t matter if they’ve told you seventy, if she starts saying it’s ninety for it you’ve not got much choice. Just like the time. It doesn’t matter when you think your session started, they’ll be able to say with utter confidence that the time has run out even when you know that it hasn’t and that you’ve got at least another five minutes left which would have been plenty of time for you to finish what you were doing. What can you do, disagree? See how far that takes you.

  Even though the place had seemed to be solely populated by skinny girls in lingerie, as soon as one of the girls gives the word that someone is being trouble the large gentlemen appear and by that time you’re rapidly running out of chances to leave the place walking rather than be dragged out bleeding.

  Needless to say, Alastair’s opinion of such institutions had been rather soured by a few specific experiences over the years. The counter argument ran that as well as the company of the girl, you were paying the price of having somewhere to do the deed which, if things went well, was supposed to be safer than what you might have access to otherwise.

  As a rep of many years standing (a title that Alastair had always preferred to “travelling salesman” because it was at least slightly less apparent that what it entailed was him driving all over the place and hassling people to buy things that they probably didn’t need) Alastair was used to spending a huge amount of his time in his car and in mediocre hotel rooms. As a rule he felt more at home in his car than he did in his house. His car was a large, moderately expensive saloon with leather seats. His company had supplied it to him and somehow that made it feel more his than if it had been bought with the money that he earned which went into the joint account he shared with his wife. The driver’s seat had long been moulded to the shape of his ample buttocks and made them feel more at home than any other seat he had yet experienced.

  As a result of this sense of comfort in his car, he was usually more likely to just opt to do whatever girl he had picked up there rather than bother to take them anywhere. Anyway, when he was paying for their time, why waste it in traffic getting to a hotel when he could just park somewhere discrete and get what he wanted as quickly and cheaply as possible? It wasn’t like he was really looking for their company anyway. All he wanted was their mouth and fingers and pussy and he didn’t really care which it took for him to be finished. As long as he got what he needed out of them, what difference did the details make? He used a lot of air-freshener in the car but it couldn’t completely conceal the smell of old cum from the countless times random prostitutes had worked their trade on him. Fortunately he never had to let clients anywhere near his car.

  Another side-effect of being a rep was that he didn’t spend much time back at the family home. Not that his wife was complaining. Over the years she had grown very used to him spending less than a quarter of his time actually living in the house that his labours had paid for and had planned her life around that fact. She was relieved that he didn’t even seem to expect to want to share a bed with her anymore. Their children were teenagers and didn’t appear overly bothered by their substantially absent father, but then they were also doing what they could to spend everything that he brought home and thus necessitate him spending so much time on the road getting more.

  With a wife that didn’t want to do anything with him and children that were resoundingly indifferent to him, it was hardly a surprise that Alastair felt so much more at home sat in the well-moulded seat of his car travelling the country to his next meeting or getting a hurried and clumsy but ultimately satisfying hand job from some whore in a car-park.

  Aside from those stolen moments when his attention could shift rapidly between the concerns of his day to the blissful twinges of release to momentary panic about making sure that he got his trousers far enough out of the way that they didn’t get any of his cum on them, there wasn’t much that Alastair had to look forward to in his life.

  Closing a big deal still held at least a hint of a thrill for him, but it wasn’t the same as it used to be when he was younger. The deals hadn’t got all that much bigger and even if he was still getting a tolerable share of the profits from them, they didn’t seem to matter so much when he knew that they were mostly getting spent immediately on paying for the big house that he didn’t feel at home in and the education of the children that didn’t make any attempt to hide their contempt for him when he was there. He took it for granted that his wife had lovers when he wasn’t there and he couldn’t blame her for it. It wasn’t like he really wanted to fuck her anymore anyway. After countless skinny young prostitutes the more mature charms of a middle-aged woman held less appeal for him than they had back when he was a young salesman and took great pleasure in shagging other men’s wives while going door to door pushing whatever junk was his job at that moment.

  Back then that had been his favourite part of the job, even more so than the money. As a young, arrogant young snot who liked to think he had the world at his feet it made him feel fantastic to know that not only was he taking some guy’s money by convincing his wife to buy his wares when her husband wasn’t there, but that he was sealing the deal by fucking her and giving her a taste of what a stiff young prick could do, reminding her what she was missing from being married to some flabby old fart. He wasn’t choosy back then. He was happy to try it on with any woman that gave him even a hint that she might be amenable.

  Of course, times had changed now. His wife was doubtless better looking than plenty that he had fucked back then but he just couldn’t find it in him to want to, even if she had been willing. Maybe she was going through a cavalcade of eager young snots, all of them sniffing the air and growling for the chance to stick their cock in an experienced cunt. Bollocks to them. They could have her if they wanted. He didn’t really care how many men were queuing up to take their turn with her. She had a void that needed filling and he didn’t want to be the one to do it. They hadn’t had sex together in years and that was fine by him.

  As for him, he had his whores. He spent time in so many different cities that the girls were always new and fresh to him. Even a bad moment could be seen as fun purely because of novelty. He had developed a sense for it now. Driving round any city it was like he could just tell which way he needed to go until he would find that special sort of place where all he had to do was drive slowly down the street and a girl would appear and want to have a chat with him.

  When the girl had got in and shut the door it was just him and her. He had the money and she had the cunt and between them they were sure to be able to find a way to figure things out to leave them both satisfied, not that it really mattered how satisfied she was. Once he had finished he didn’t care any more. All he needed was for her to go away and leave him alone. He was happy to go back to his shitty hotel room, p
ut his head down and sleep, just as long as his balls had been emptied by the satisfying motions of some tart or other.

  The rhythm that his life had found wasn’t the one he had expected for himself, though he had at least accrued far more notches on his metaphorical bedposts than even his most fevered adolescent delusions could have imagined.

  At a conservative estimate, he must have had his way with at least two thousand women by now, and that was assuming that he had but rarely had two different whores in a week, which was quite frankly unlikely. His youthful self had probably not expected that the overwhelming majority of his conquests would have been purely as a result of driving slowly down a road and offering some currency to a girl who needed the money badly enough to not care how she got it, but he wouldn’t have been able to criticise his older self for his numbers or the diversity of women that his habit had given him the chance to enjoy.

  Tonight he was in a city he hadn’t been to before. Earlier he had had a meeting with a prospective client and things had gone pretty well, he had managed to convince them to at least grudgingly agree to accept samples, on approval of which he was optimistic that he would get an order for ten thousand units which was enough to take away the financial pressures of his family for a few weeks and surely entitled him to at least a few sessions with whores. Where other’s might have stopped off for a nice meal and a few drinks and possibly even looked to acquire some companionship for the evening, he had eaten whatever was on the specials board in some franchise pub, washed down with a pint of their cheapest and was now driving in search of that elusive place that he hadn’t yet found in this city before returning to his claustrophobic hotel room and calling it a night.

  It was his first time in the city but he had no reason to doubt that what he wanted was out there, he just had to drive down the right street. He had rolled the windows down a little and was smelling the night air, the mixture of pollution and desperation and fried food that he had smelled so many times in so many different places. The street was long and wide but quiet enough to be relatively free of traffic. There weren’t many places that had any reason to be open at night here. The buildings were mostly filled with industrial units that closed at night. He glimpsed a fleeting shadow in the gloom of a building close to the road. He slowed the car to a crawl and watched. He caught a glimpse of pale skin moving in the shadows and smiled. He knew he would find it. She emerged cautiously from the shelter of the building. She had the short skirt and bare legs that he was so used to seeing. Utterly impractical in a city at night, especially on a cold autumn day like today, but the sight of naked thighs and a girl sidling towards the edge of his pavement made him feel certain that he had found what he was looking for. She approached his car, the harsh orange of sodium lamps making her skin look sickly. She looked young, barely older than his daughter. Her skirt was too short to effectively cover her as she pulled open the car door and slipped onto the passenger seat.