Meredith nodded. ‘Oh yeah, Alicia's a cunning little bitch! She doesn't like me at all...is always cold with me. Now I know why. She's met Amy, too, you know, was cold with her too.’
I said, ‘Mmm, I see. A little blackmail is on the horizon, is that it?’
Meredith held me tight and whispered, ‘Look Andy, when I divorce Peter next year, I don’t want that slut coming out of the woodwork and threatening to introduce Peter's coprophile behaviour in court. Peter and I have certain financial considerations in common, you know that. Any adverse publicity might hurt any possible arrangement we come to.’
‘The offshore accounts you mentioned?’ I asked.
‘Precisely: those offshore accounts are very important to both our futures, yours and mine,’ Meredith told me.
‘Does she know about them?’ I asked.
‘I imagine she does,’ Meredith said. ‘She’s probably being paid a lot extra for her...private services.’
I said, ‘Then we have to get the master DVDs back to you, and then she has no angle. It’s all hearsay, no evidence.’
‘How could I do that?’ Meredith asked.
‘I’ll do it!’ I said.
‘You’d do that, for me?’ Meredith gushed.
‘Of course I will. I love you, it’s our future,’ I said.
We kissed and petted and inevitably ended up fucking on top of Meredith’s nice oak desk, leaving beads of semen and pools of sex-juice on it after we’d finished. I left her lying, panting, on her back, with a ‘cream-pie’ oozing from her pussy lips.
•
A few days later, Meredith came around to my flat to view the DVD again.
‘I know where this was filmed,’ Meredith said with a wide grin.
‘Where?’ I asked.
‘In Alicia Clarke’s apartment: Look...’ she said, freeze-framing the action on screen, ‘...see that view out the window. I know it. it’s Richmond Villas, near the river, not far from here.’
‘Well done, Sherlock!’ I joked, slapping Meredith’s bottom.
‘I can get you Alicia's address from Peter’s company database. I have access to it. I’ll text it to you tomorrow. Can you try and get in there, Andy?’
‘Sure, leave it to me.’ I said, not really that confident I could.
Meredith was as good as her word. A text arrived the following lunchtime giving Alicia Clarke’s address and the hours she usually worked as Peter Wall’s PA. I called a shady character I knew from the music biz. He did a bit of freelance private detective work now and then and I agreed to meet with him.
Austin was a strange kind of bloke. He’d been in military intelligence and got fucked-up in Iraq. He’d been in trouble with the police a couple of times and now made his living on the fringes of society – a little drug dealing here, a little illegal gambling there, keys cut for all occasions, burglary...that kinda stuff.
‘You have the thing?’ I asked.
Austin nodded his skinhead at me.
We went to a small cafe nearby and sat in a little courtyard at the back, away from the main clientele. I got Austin a tea and, as I sipped on an espresso, he handed me a thick white envelope. I felt a solid object within. I handed him a wad of ten pound notes that Meredith had given me and he thanked me.
‘Sure it’ll work, Austin?’ I asked him.
Austin dragged on a cigarette, clouds of smoke issuing from his nostrils. He regarded me and smiled.
‘It’ll work alright, bruv,’ he said. ‘Trust me.’
Austin was a huge skinhead, with tattoos all down his muscular arms, announcing stuff like “Death before Dishonour,” and “Airborne Forever,” so not the kinda guy you easily contradict.
I left Austin and rode my bike over to Richmond Villas, the home of the intriguing Alicia Clarke, Peter Wall’s deviant PA. Taking the riverside route, I came to the fire exit at the back of the six-story Victorian building and watched out for any CCTV surveillance. Thankfully, there wasn’t any. I climbed the wrought iron staircase and got to the fourth floor, where Ms Clarke’s apartment was. I checked the address, Flat 4/10, and went along a corridor. At the very end was number ten. I looked right and then left to make sure there wasn’t anybody about and inserted Austin's 'master' pick in the lock and turned it the way he’d shown me. It clicked, but stuck. ‘Fuck!’ I whispered and tried again, turning the pick counter-clockwise. With a loud click the door sprung open. I quickly went in and put on a pair of latex gloves and wiped the door handle I’d just touched, with a soft cloth. Another Austin tip. The apartment was spacious and well furnished and there were various pictures of Alicia with Peter, at City functions, or abroad in exotic location. Obviously, this was a long-term affair, even though Alicia had only just turned thirty and Peter was fifty-seven. Meredith had told me Alicia joined the law firm aged twenty, so the affair must’ve begun when she was twenty-one, or twenty two. 'So, like his nympho wife, Peter Wall likes them young and ripe,' I thought. Alicia looked incredibly feline and desirable in the many pictures on her walls. She was sex on legs. Under different circumstances, I would’ve made a play for her.
I searched the flat high and low, but couldn’t find the video camera, or any DVDs, or tapes. Alicia was certainly a hardcore Dominatrix. Her wardrobe was packed with expensive fetish outfits that Peter Wall had obviously bought her. There were many pairs of high-heeled boots and various designs of shoes, from platforms to ankle-strapped stilettos. Alongside the clothes she had many hand-crafted leather whips, an assortment of thick bamboo canes, a heavy wooden bat with a large ‘A’ cut into it and several leather handled floggers, with knotted tips. They hung neatly in a specially concealed cabinet. Peter was a big deal lawyer for City businesses, so no expense had been spared on any of this kit. It was obvious from the quality of the stuff here that he’d been busily buying Alicia what she wanted for years.
I made my way down a corridor and opened a door on my right. It was a bathroom. It wasn’t your average bathroom though. This was a huge white-tiled room and had a lot of fetish toys on display...I could tell this was the FILTH EPICENTER: I could sense it...What had gone on in this bathroom would’ve probably freaked out the Marquis de Sade himself, judging from what I’d seen in the extreme move clip that Meredith had shown me. The bathroom had several neat glass-fronted cabinets, the kind you find in hospitals, made of stainless steel. There was a metal bedpan in one, a glass urinal in another, a kid’s white plastic potty, a lot of enema dispensers and rubber bags, a couple of steel anal injectors, all types and sizes of butt plug, even some inflatable rubber ones, like the kind Meredith owned; I also saw a couple of ornate silver spoons, obviously for ‘feeding’ Peter with; Lying around were various coloured dildos in all sizes and shapes and a couple of ominously well-used, stainless-steel, speculums. Yes, a lot of expensive filth-themed equipment was in here, not to mention the sunken white Jacuzzi next to a plush-looking, electronically operated, WC. This was unusual in that it had a black rubber neck-rest over the lip of the pedestal, obviously for Peter to lie back on and receive whatever Mistress Alicia felt like giving him. There was no camera in the bathroom either, so, annoyed, I made my way back.
Eventually, after a long, heart-stopping, time, I located a Sony DVD digital-video camera in a concealed passage behind Alicia’s dressing table, in her bedroom. It was in a black leather case. I took it out and flicked it on and checked out a DVD that was already in there. Peter Wall came onscreen, begging to be allowed to do some obscene thing with Alicia’s turds that were on a white china plate he was holding under her messy anus. She turned and smacked his chubby face and called him a “FILTHY FUCK-PIG!” and made him lick her long leather boots as she filmed him in POV. 'C'mon piggy, c'mon!' she kept sayng in a little girly voice. It got a lot worse pretty quickly and so I snapped the camera off and ripped the case open and took the DVD out and placed it in my bag. There were five other DVDs in the camera case and they were all equally sick and shocking. I took them and quickly went to make my way out of the apartment
with the Sony video camera and all the DVDs in my backpack. Before I left, I also stole Alicia’s Mac laptop that was in her reception room. Meredith could check it out later, for evidence.
Hurrying down the fire exit, I got to my bike and cycled over to Meredith’s office. I called her on my mobile and we met around the corner in a small riverside pub. It was mid-afternoon and there were only a couple of lonely drunks in the pub, so we easily got a corner table and sat down. I kicked the backpack under the table to her.
‘You got it all?’ Meredith asked.
‘Yeah,’ I said proudly, ‘all the filth tapes and the camera too...’
‘Oh, and the slut’s laptop’s in there as well.’
‘You fuckin hero, Andy!’ Meredith squealed and hugged me, before kissing me, hard. The old drunks had never seen anything like it.
One smiled a toothless smile and whooped, ‘You go boy! You go!’
•
Meredith confronted Peter with the ‘evidence’ about a week later. He agreed favourable divorce terms, without a mention of Alicia.
Meredith was as happy as hell.
As Peter was away in Europe for two weeks, with the notorious Ms Clarke, Meredith had her lovely spacious house all to herself. She invited me over for dinner on the Friday evening and wore a lovely off-the-shoulder black silk dress, very revealing, complete with patent-leather, high-heeled, shoes. She looked stunning.
‘Wow!’ I said looking her over, ‘A Goddess in human form!’
‘Thank you, my love,’ she said and took my hand.
‘I’ve done some asparagus as a starter, Andy,’ she said. ‘They’re very good right now. You okay with asparagus?’
‘Mmm, I love asparagus,’ I said and went to sit down.
‘Just one thing, sir,’ she said, a twinkle in her blue-green eyes. ‘I need some white sauce to put on them!’
She knelt and undid my dark blue suit trousers and pulled them down to my ankles, along with my underwear. My cock hung down, soon filling with blood as she stroked it and sucked it up to its full eight-inch potential. I watched and groaned and stroked her pinned-up blonde hair as she jerked me off, using her right hand, over her side plate where the gleaming green asparagus lay, steaming away.
‘Shoot your creamy spunk, sir. Please, produce a nice big load,’ she cooed, sucking my dangling balls, gently, knowing that always gave me the urge to cum. I groaned, ‘Ugh!’ and she said, ‘That’s it, sir, cum for your devoted whore!’
‘Oh fuck, yeah, here it is!’ I yelled, feeling wild spasms in my groin.
Coils of baby-juice spat out of the eye of my throbbing dick and laced across the asparagus. Meredith kept jerking my shaft until she’d emptied me, saying, 'Gorgeous! Nothing beats the creamy sauce fresh from young sir’s balls. That will taste sooh good.'
I flopped down on a chair and watched as my older slut ate my spunk with the asparagus in the most lascivious display imaginable, her tongue flicking over the yellow tips, lapping up the spunk-sauce as she went. She chewed slowly, letting me see all the mess on her tongue, and then she invited me over and transferred some to me mouth-to-mouth. We swapped it back and forth in a mush, until she eventually swallowed it all. I watched as she smiled at me and licked her big pink lips after doing it.
'Again, sir?' she asked, suggestively.
‘You’ll have to be flogged later on, for being sooh naughty,’ I said.
‘Mmm...’ she cooed, ‘the welts from the previous whipping you gave me have only just healed, sir. Some fresh scars would be very welcome.’
‘Oh, you can count on a lot of welts tonight, you nasty whore!’ I said with a sly laugh.
‘In fact, I’ve also decided I’m gonna pierce your tits as well.’
‘Mmm...I’ve been dying for you to do that, sir,’ Meredith sighed.
‘Are they long needles that you have with you?’ she then asked, eager to know the extent and gravity of her forthcoming torture.
‘Yes, very long – and heavy guage too,’ I told her. ‘It’ll hurt a lot when I shove them through your nipples, it’ll sting like a hot poker and you’ll shriek your lungs out.’
Meredith smiled. ‘Mmm...I can’t wait, sir! My pain is a gift that I willingly give to you. My flesh is yours to mould as you wish, you know that. I’ll happily bleed for you.’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘at least nobody will hear your screams in this huge old mansion.’
‘Or hear my orgasms either, sir,’ Meredith quipped.
We both giggled knowingly and had another deep food kiss.
How I loved this beautiful fifty-year-old woman...her invention, her sensuality, her intelligent femininity, I found it quite overwhelming. Our ability to be openly disgusting and still feel such desire for each other was incredible. This raging feeling inside us both could carry on forever, as far as I was concerned.
THE END
The Sin
Book 4
Chapter: 1
In the midwest town of Canton, two intelligent eighteen-year-old high-school boys, Brad Hunter and Johnny Ortiz had a thing about Mrs Parker. Most boys would have had a thing about the red-haired temptress who’d recently moved into a spacious wood-fronted house on Fall Street. She arrived in the cold month of January and by June her legend status was well underway. ‘That’s some prime meat, right there, bro,’ Johnny disrespectfully used to say when he and Brad rode by Mrs Parker’s house on their mountain bikes when ‘lady P’ (as she was known, locally) was laying on her recliner in a skimpy black bikini. To call her an impressive physical presence, with looks to match, would be an understatement.
Despite their youth, Johnny and Brad were quite experienced sexually. The times being what they are it’s expected these days that young folk are now pretty wild compared with, say, fifty years ago. With girls their own ages they were certainly wild and coupled with the fact that their libidos were constantly raging made for an explosive cocktail. Besides looking at a lot of a lot of deviant porn on the Internet, the boys wore black clothes and worshiped thrash metal music. One day, in the blistering heat of mid-June, they were walking by lady P’s house when they heard the unmistakable sound of 'The Aardvarks’ – their favourite all time metal band. ‘Wow, that’s very cool. You hear that, bro?’ Johnny said. Brad nodded and they both started to play air-guitar, on the sidewalk outside lady P’s house, in time to ‘Lustful Linda,’ one of the Aardvark’s hardest tunes...
“Lustful Linda, boy, she will give ya, head and tail, she’ll scream and wail, if ya gang bang Lustful Linda.”
Krang, krang, krang...
Their playful fun was interrupted by lady P’s sensual voice. ‘Hi there, boys, is this a private party, or can anyone get involved?’ There she was, standing right before them, in tight jeans, sandals and a tight white blouse unbuttoned to the waist. Her boobs were practically slipping out.
‘Cool music, ma’am,’ Brad said, awkwardly.
‘Awesome!’ Johnny agreed.
‘You like The Aardvark’s, ma’am?’ Brad asked, trying not to look at lady P’s large breasts. She regarded both boys with a sweet look and brushed back her long cherry-red hair. ‘Yeah, I love ‘em, they're a real cool band. Wanna come inside and listen to more?’
The pair nodded like crazy and followed the curvy redhead into her house. She sat them down on her sofa and asked, ‘Something to drink?’
‘Coke, ma’am, please,’ Brad said.
She asked Johnny, ‘Same for you?’
Johnny nodded and lady P slinked off to the kitchen to get their drinks.
‘Fuck bro, see those humungous tits?’ Brad whispered in Johnny’s ear.
‘Yeah, dog,’ Johnny said, ‘fuckin amazing knockers.She looks like a porn star. Love to get my hands on those bangers, wouldn’t you?
‘Shit, yeah, bro, they’re awesome...like a couple of ripe melons,’ Brad agreed.
Lady P returned with a tray. ‘Here you are,’ she said, handing out the colas. She leaned over the boys and they could clearly see
the swell of her impressive bosom as it struggled to stay inside the white bra it was trapped in.
The next track on The Aardvark’s album came on. It was “Suicide Pact.” ‘Oh, I love this,’ lady P said. With a grin she stood up and started gyrating in time to the quick throbbing beat. The boys watched, while her tits heaved and her curvy bottom moved from side to side, as she mouthed the words:
“Suicide pact, your cum in my face, a gun to my head, bang-bang, I’m dead...”
The watching boys were impressed by this uninhibited display of emotion and lady P noticed. ‘You think I’m hot?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, very hot,’ Johnny said.
‘Thank you. And your friend, what does he think?’
‘He agrees with me.’
‘So you both think I’m hot, right?’
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