by Ray Gordon
Suddenly he began to tremble uncontrollably, gasping as the velveteen surface of his glans repeated nudged the back of her throat. Sucking diligently and dutifully she wondered what sperm would taste like. Should she swallow it?
'Suck,' Arthur demanded urgently, quickening his thrusting rhythm, then clamping his fingers into her scalp and jerking his groin against her flushed face he looked up at the ceiling with bulging eyes and let out a long, low moan of pleasure. 'Swallow it,' he ordered the girl, 'swallow it all,' and then salty sperm jetted from his spasming penis and filled her mouth, a little overflowing from the corner of her stretched lips, the substance dribbling down her chin... and Emily swallowed.
Again the penis filling her mouth spat into her throat, and the kneeling girl drank from her neighbour, his twitching balls rolling against her chin as he penetrated her to the root, his talon-like fingers holding her head still.
The panting man swayed on his sagging legs as the girl swallowed the last of his sperm. With his penis finally wilting he staggered back, his spent cock flopping from between her sperm-coated lips, and slumped back into the armchair, leaving her kneeling alone, bemused, her head bowed.
'That was very good,' he finally wheezed as she wearily lifted herself back up onto the sofa. 'You did very well, my dear. You're a very quick learner.'
'I think I'd better go now,' she said again, the distinctive taste of sperm lingering on her tongue.
'No, no, don't go yet,' he said.
'But I must,' she insisted.
'No, stay for a while longer.'
Sighing, Emily lifted her eyes and gazed at his dormant penis as he smiled lazily across at her. What had she done? Sucking her neighbour's penis was shameful. And yet, she had to admit the experience had sent her senses soaring.
Arthur pensively sipped his wine in silence, scrutinising her closely through narrowed eyes as she sat looking down at her hands, clasped lightly together in her lap. Then, when his glass was empty he placed it again on the small table beside his chair and crept across to the silent girl. He knelt in front of her knees, and she looked at him with an expression of inquisitive acceptance on her lovely face.
Emily was about to lose her virginity, she knew, and she was strangely resigned to that knowledge. To be anything else would be pointless. As Arthur lifted his hands to her knees and pressed, prising her thighs gently apart, she even reclined on the sofa without being told to, watching him cautiously. Did she want to lose her virginity? She didn't think she did, but she knew she was going to. Did she want to lose her virginity to her older neighbour? Again she didn't think she did, but again, she knew she was going to.
'No,' she gasped as he leaned between her spread thighs and pressed his mouth to the lips of her sex through her silk panties. She hadn't expected that, but ignoring her feeble protest he pressed the tip of his tongue into her entrance and licked her there, through the silk. Emily shuddered, her mind blown away with conflicting confusion and arousal as he used a finger and thumb to peel the damp material aside and ran his tongue deftly around the awakening nub of her sensitive clitoris. Although the sensations were amazing, Emily found it almost impossible to accept that her neighbour was actually kneeling between her legs, his face buried between her thighs, his tongue licking her sex, but she squealed with illicit pleasure, her back arched and she instinctively buried her fingers into his greying hair as he suddenly drove his tongue into the wet heat of her vagina.
'No,' she again murmured, unsure of her real feelings as he licked and probed her defenceless pussy. She shouldn't be doing this; she shouldn't be gleaning sexual pleasure from her neighbour's tongue.
'Relax and enjoy it,' Arthur breathed, pulling his mouth back slightly from her glistening sex lips. 'Relax and enjoy feeding off my experience, Emily.'
'Arthur, please...' she pleaded as she felt another shameful orgasm simmering in the pit of her tummy.
'Trust me,' he told her again, giving her sensitive sex petals a possessive kiss. 'Trust me, my dear. Everything will be fine...'
Emily had lost the meaning of trust. She had trusted Arthur completely, and because of that trust she was now naked in his lounge with him kneeling between her legs and his tongue licking her clitoris. Shockingly close to her unforgivable orgasm she dug her fingertips into his head, the slurping sounds of oral sex filling her ears and mortifying her. Rolling her head back and closing her eyes, she knew she was going to come. Gasping, her nubile body writhing on his sofa, she knew she was going to cross the threshold and shudder in an inexcusable, tongue-induced orgasm. Through swirling emotions she knew she could halt this illicit act - if she wanted to; she could push the man away and flee his house. But the unfamiliar sensations were driving her wild.
'No!' she squealed, her clitoris exploding in bliss within Arthur's hungry mouth. Her body shaking violently, incredible sensations rocking her very soul, her knuckles turned white as she clung to his head and rode the crest of her climax.
Images of her parents loomed in the turmoil of her mind as she gasped and whimpered in her forbidden release. Her father wagging his finger, scolding her, her mother with her hands on her hips, a look of sheer disgust depicted in her angry expression. Her orgasm peaking, her sex juices anointing the man's mouth and chin, she cried out in the grip of her unforgivable lust.
'No more,' she gasped. 'God, no... I can't take any more...' Another wave of intense sexual pleasure washed through her shuddering, exhausted form, and she thought she was going to pass out from the pleasure. She was slumped against the back of the sofa, her breasts rising and falling raggedly as she breathed deeply, her smooth flesh bathed in a sheen of perspiration.
'No...' the exhausted girl whispered as Arthur shuffled closer on his knees and pulled her limp calves back around his thighs. Through half open eyes she watched him place his hands on her thighs and press them further apart. Then he squeezed his hands between her buttocks and the sofa, and with ease he pulled her closer to him so that her knees were wedged apart by his hips, closer to where his penis again stood erect, spearing up over the gentle mound of her soft, naked pubic nest.
'Now, my dear,' he said hoarsely, kneeling tall over her shattered, supine form, his hands smoothing up to grip the tops of her thighs, holding her just where he wanted her, pinned at his mercy on the sofa, 'at last we reach the conclusion of this stage of your education.'
'Arthur, please...' she whispered futilely, watching as he dipped his hips a little and the smooth, purple glans slipped just between the engorged petals of her sex lips, pressing through the wet, white silk of her panties. Then he paused, gazing down at the beautiful girl spread before him.
'Are you ready, young lady?' he asked. 'I'm going to fuck you now. You may not be aware, but I've been waiting for this moment for quite some time. And you're going to enjoy it too. Your parents going on holiday couldn't have fallen in line with my plans more perfectly. From the moment your father told me of their holiday I've been waiting for this moment, preparing for it.' As he spoke his hips moved forward a little and the bulbous globe of his erection nosed a little further between her sex lips, the delicate silk the only barrier between him and her virginity, and the trapped girl, gazing up at the man through misty eyes, gasped and stiffened, waiting tensely for the inevitable, her hands anxiously clamped to the sofa cushions.
'I love the feel of your silk panties against my cock,' he whispered. 'I'm pleased I bought them for you; we'll have some more fun with them later,' he promised, and moved his thumbs to ease the silk to one side, open her sex lips wider and push his cock-head an inch or so inside her tight, virginal channel, 'but I need to fuck you now.'
Emily held her breath and watched him, not daring to move, not able to move.
'Are you ready?' he said, Emily noticing the veins standing out on his temples as he held himself ready to penetrate her.
'I think so,' she whispered bravely. 'If you really have to do this...'
'I do, my dear,' he told her. 'Believe me, I do. I've w
aited long enough, and now it's my moment.'
The man and the girl stared into each other's eyes for tense seconds, and then he stabbed with his hips and she stiffened on the sofa as he impaled her with one, long, steady thrust. She instinctively lifted her knees to squeeze his flanks and her hands to press against his hairy chest in one last silent rebellion, only her bottom and her shoulders touching the sofa as her back arched, the lithe movement lifting her firm breasts for him to drool over and inadvertently allowing his cock a better angle into her superb, tight young body. His groin pressed tightly against hers, their pubic hair mingling, and the pinned girl opened her mouth in a silent exclamation against the alien violation.
'It's all right,' he gasped, his swollen glans pressing deep inside her body. 'It's all right, dear girl. Relax... just relax and enjoy it.'
This was it, Emily thought in her torment. He was taking her virginity. This was where the path led. Arthur had coaxed her along that path, toyed with her, manipulated her, and now the solid shaft of his penis was embedded deep within the hugging sheath of her vagina.
With his juice-glistening shaft slowly withdrawing, Emily looked down aghast at the forbidden coupling. Her sex lips were stretched tautly around the veined organ, the plum of his helmet lodged just inside her, and then she gasped and watched in awe as his rigid penis slowly disappeared, sinking into her again, gliding deep, opening her tight channel, inch after glistening inch of the solid stem vanishing into the hot depths of her vanquished body.
The man then started fucking the girl, rocking in and out of her as she moaned and writhed beneath him on his sofa. He grunted, his brow beaded with sweat, his eyes bulging as he quickened his thrusting motions, his movements becoming increasingly ragged. He was fucking her with dire determination, and as Emily stared up into his grimacing face she knew he was close to coming, that he fully intended to come inside her.
'Arthur,' she gasped, her firm breasts quivering as he shunted her body back and forth on the sofa. 'Arthur, you mustn't. You can't... you can't come inside me.' But the man was beyond listening and earnestly squeezed her waist in both hands, pulling her more desperately onto his stiff pole, and despite her fears Emily felt her clitoris responding deliciously. Stimulated beyond belief by the powerful male shaft thrusting in and out of her, she knew she was about to orgasm again too. She teetered on the verge of her climax, impaled upon her next-door neighbour's bludgeoning erection, the last shreds of innocence finally stripped from her.
'I'm coming,' Arthur croaked through gritted teeth, his thrusting cock swelling even more, stretching Emily's tight vagina. Then, with her own climax exploding from the bulb of her clitoris, she was just aware of his seed erupting deep inside her. She rolled her head from side to side and pressed her knuckles against her open mouth to suppress the scream of joy threatening to wrench from her lungs. She was no longer a virgin, her veil of innocence stripped away by the wind of lust like autumn leaves, tears seeping from her closed eyes and meandered down her cheeks, where they dripped and soaked into her neighbour's sofa.
'You've done it, you beautiful thing,' Arthur breathed heavily, his shoulders slumped with fatigue, his penis still stiff and buried in the clutching depths of her vagina. 'You've really done it...'
Through swirling thoughts Emily pondered his words as her orgasm ebbed. The day of her deflowering had come, but never had she thought it would be like this.
'And you were very, very good,' he drooled shakily as she gazed down beyond her perspiring breasts and watched his wilting penis withdraw from her wet vagina. 'Did you enjoy it?'
'I... I don't know,' she replied softly, as his purple globe flopped out from between her tender sex lips and made her gasp a little. 'Maybe... I'm not sure.'
'Oh, I think you did,' he chuckled arrogantly. 'I think you did.'
'But you shouldn't have come inside me like that,' she protested wearily. 'You shouldn't have done that. You should have pulled out.'
'I don't think so,' he said. 'I'd defy any red-blooded male to pull out of a gorgeous girl like you at the crucial moment.' He shook his head and idly stroked her thigh with one hand and her flushed cheek with the palm of the other as she pulled herself up into more of a sitting position. 'No, my dear, that wasn't an option at all, I'm afraid.'
'I want to go home now, please,' she said jadedly.
'Nonsense,' he said. 'After what we've just experienced together? No, you're going to stay here with me tonight.'
Emily shook her head, wanting to put her clothes on and get back to the sanctuary of her own home. 'No Arthur, I really want to go—'
'Shhhh...' he hushed her, placing his forefinger over her soft lips. 'You're staying with me tonight, and that's an end to it. You'll stay with me in my room... in my bed.'
Emily slowly shook her head in disbelief of what she was hearing, silenced by the presence of his finger, but even when he removed it and stood up, took her hand and guided her to her feet, she still said nothing more.
He led her out into the hall to the foot of the unlit stairs. Then he murmured quiet words of comfort and encouragement and started to lead her upwards by the hand, and despite gazing apprehensively up into the darkness beyond his open bedroom door, she began to see things more clearly in her mind.
Upstairs, as Emily stood gazing down at the squat shadow of his double bed, waiting for her like some foreboding sacrificial altar, she began to understand.
As she lay on her side beneath the quilt, her knees drawn up protectively, gazing at but not seeing the orange glow from the streetlight outside trying to creep around the closed curtains, she knew there never had been any report book.
As she heard the bedroom door close, a wooden barrier between them and the outside world, she knew the phone didn't have a fault on the line; she knew Arthur had sabotaged it.
As she felt the mattress sag and Arthur's body squeeze close against her back, his thighs tucked up beneath hers, an arm slipping over her waist, a hand creeping up her tummy to maul her breasts, his lips nuzzling her neck and ear, his dormant penis sandwiched against her silk panties, she knew why her father hadn't mentioned to her that he'd lost eighty pounds from his wallet; because he hadn't lost eighty pounds from his wallet.
As hands moved to the waist of her panties and smoothed them down her legs she knew her father had never discovered her masturbating; that her neighbour had successfully gambled on a bluff.
As he whispered in her ear, telling her exactly what he was going to do to her, his erection seemingly stimulated by his lewd commentary and pulsing between her buttocks, she knew her parents had never given him the telephone number of their hotel in Spain. She knew there was nobody on the other end of the line when he stood in his hall and phoned, that she'd fallen for another bluff.
As hands turned her over to face him and urged her down into the darkness beneath the quilt, with gruff instructions to get him 'ready' and crude comments that she had a great mouth and should use it more, she knew that Chrissie, her best friend, was not chasing Jack and had not betrayed her.
As she lay curled in the humid darkness beneath his bedding, obediently kissing his belly, his thighs, feeling his flaccid penis unfurling against her cheek, she knew Chrissie had not telephoned her parents telling tales on her.
As he rolled lazily onto his back and threw aside the quilt so he could exult in watching her carry out his wishes, she knew he'd never called round to see Chrissie's mother to tell fabricated accusations about her and Chrissie's dad.
As he pulled her over his groin, his rejuvenated erection sprouting at an angle over his belly and pressing against her lips, demanding entry, stretching them wide and then possessively moving languidly in and out of her mouth, she knew her father had not been ringing him from Spain to check up on her.
As he halted her with another grunt, grumbling that she was taking him too far too quickly, cruelly remarking that she was a natural cock-sucker then rolling her over onto her back, she knew who had planted the vibrator in her bed
and taken those incriminating photographs.
As he brusquely pushed her legs apart and heaved himself between them, his erection buffeting her trembling tummy, his chest pressing against her breasts, the greying hair rasping against her traitorously erect nipples, she knew.
As he fumbled and groped, panted against her shoulder and managed to position his erection just between her sex lips, she knew.
As Emily gazed up at the shadowy ceiling above; as she bore the weight of her next-door neighbour, sandwiched between him and the sagging mattress; as she heard him mutter in her ear that he was going to fuck her again, that she was his now; as she lifted her hands and clutched the pillows in readiness; as he stabbed with his hips and fulfilled his hoarse pledge to fuck her again with his long, stiff cock, she understood everything with absolute clarity.
Maid to Serve
Hayley made her way along the winding drive to Hadleigh Manor for the second time in the last four weeks. She still couldn't believe she'd secured the job of housekeeper to a record producer and his wife. Apparently Michael and Belinda Philips were well known on the celebrity circuit, even though Hayley had never heard of them before, so securing this job was a dream come true. The only downside was that she was on a two-month trial, on probation, and she was going to have to prove herself in that relatively short period of time or risk being made redundant from a job she was really excited about.
Lugging her suitcase up the stone steps to the imposing Victorian building, she walked through the front door - which she was surprised to find open - and looked about the large hall.
Gold discs and photographs of rock bands - some she recognised and held in awe, some she didn't recognise at all - lined the walls, and an electric guitar lay on a burgundy chaise longue which stood against one wall, hardly in keeping with the nineteenth century surroundings. There was a tall vase of dying flowers on a circular table in the centre of the hall, and the table itself was dusty, both of which indicated that they certainly did need a housekeeper. With rock music pulsing from somewhere deep in the bowels of the house, Hayley recalled the interview a month previously.