Caution: This Mind Control Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Reluctant, Coercion, Blackmail, Mind Control, Drunk/Drugged, Heterosexual, Fiction, Cheating, Slow, mc sex story,mc story.
Desc: Mind Control Sex Story: Chapter 1 - How one simple silly mistake can cause so many regrets.
Regrets, I have a few.
But unlike the song, where it states, too few to mention. In my case, my mistakes are of my own making, many in number, and mostly ones I'm deeply ashamed of.
Before I start on telling my tale of woe, I'll just give you a brief glimpse into who I am and my situation at the onset.
My name is Cheryl; I'm a twenty-two year old, 5' 7" blond with a 38-26-38 figure. I'm married to Garry, he's thirty-three, 5' 11" slight build, but with a volatile temper. And this temper was something I never found out about until after we'd married. But in these last two years since our wedding day, I've been on the receiving end of his fists over a dozen times. Once, being so badly bruised, I'd had to ring in sick, blaming my two week absence on a bout of influenza.
I guess like most people, you're thinking, Stupid Cow. If things are that bad, just walk out and leave him.
But anyone who is in the same situation as me will know, it isn't that simple.
I love him.
And I know he loves me.
It isn't really his fault, it's usually mine. I'll do something wrong (not intentionally) or forget to do something I've promised to do, and it will annoy him. It isn't his fault he's got a short fuse. And he's always sorry afterwards.
Well I won't dwell on this part of my relationship with my Garry, but I mentioned it in passing, as it goes some way to explaining my actions; the actions this story is about, and the great regret of my life.
It was not long after I'd had the two weeks sick leave to recover from a beating, when I was called into the office. They explained the company was down-sizing, and after reviewing my absentee record, they regretfully were going to have to let me go.
This in itself didn't go down well with Garry, and in no time, the lack of my wage was soon making our household finances very tight. So first thing to go was my car. But even though Garry didn't need his car to get to work, there was no way he'd allow me to use it. Consequently, it was only insured for him, as it had been before I sold my car.
I guess even that was understandable; I had been on his insurance when we first wed, and I twice damage his alloy wheels by parking to close to the kerb. You see, his car is his pride and joy; a tuned-up Ford RS.
So now my story starts, it's a wet Thursday, I'm still out of work, and I'm feeling really down. I've got to go into town, and it's a ten minute walk to the bus-stop where there is no shelter. The bus timetable is a fairytale book, so I'll no doubt have to wait anything up to an hour for the bus.
So mistake number one.
My Garry's car is in the garage, and his keys are on the bed-side table. It seemed such an innocent thing to do. Yes, I knew it was wrong. And yes, I realise now how serious it is driving without insurance.
But, at the time, as I blasted that guided missile through the B roads of Leicestershire, it felt sublime. All my depressive feelings melted away, and I began to sing along to the New Model Army CD.
So as I entered the outskirts of Leicester, I dropped down to the speed limits, conscious I couldn't afford to attract any police attention. I arrived at the supermarket, and just as I was about to turn into the entrance to the car-park, a car coming down the road from the apposing direction, cut across the road directly in front of me, causing me to take avoiding action.
I swerved left, they swerved right, and we both stopped. Our cars hadn't touched, but it really shook me up. As I glared across, the woman in the other car gestured I should go first. This was really the only option, as I'd been slightly ahead of her when we'd both turned in, so my car was blocking her passage.
So up comes mistake number two.
I was frustrated and angry, and so wanting to show this stupid woman just what kind of powerful car she was dealing with. I floored the accelerator, and dumped the clutch. Big mistake!
I'd been in the car as a passenger when my Garry had done this very same manoeuvre. And when he did it, it would pin me into my seat, whilst the car would take-off like a scalded cat in a cloud of tyre smoke, and screeching noise.
Well I got the tyre smoke, and screeching noise. And I guess it took-off like a scalded cat. But as it threw me back into my seat, the steering-wheel was wrenched from my grip. The car shot off across the car-park, narrowly missing a parked car. I did my best to re-gain control, and I hit the brakes.
But as the car skidded to a standstill, there was an almighty bang. The front right-hand side of the car leapt skyward, and then came down to a standstill with a sickening crash. I wasn't hurt; it wasn't as if I'd collided with a wall or anything which had brought the car to a sudden halt throwing me forwards.
But I knew by the noise and way the car had leapt into the air, that the front wheel had sustained damage; but to what degree I could only imagine. My previous mood of anger had now been substituted by despair, resulting in me dropping my face in my hands as I sobbed onto the steering-wheel.
And then through my fit of self-pity, I heard a voice accompanied by a rapping on the driver's window. I couldn't hear or understand what he was saying, so I dropped the glass.
"Are you alright? Do you need an ambulance?"
It was the supermarket security man.
I gathered my wits, and through tear filled eyes replied, "I'm sorry. I think my foot slipped off the clutch pedal. I haven't hurt anyone? Have I?"
"No. But are you alright?"
"Yes. I think so. I'm just a little shaken up. But something exploded in front of my car!"
"Yes, you ran into a raised kerb. It's one of the shrub planters. You're not the first one to miss seeing them. But I've never seen anyone run into one at such speed. I guess you're new to the car and it ran away with you?"
"It's my husband's car. I rarely drive it."
"Well you won't be driving it much more today. It's totally destroyed your wheel. And the explosion you heard. That was your tyre exploding. It sure went with a bang."
As I realised the damage I'd done, and the consequent cost. The repercussions that awaited me when Garry found out struck home. My face dropped into my hands and I again started to sob.
"Hey now, come on. It's only a wheel and tyre. Nobody was hurt. A couple of pages of insurance forms, and it'll be good as new."
I tried to reply, but the despair I was feeling robbed me of rational responses.
"Come-on love. It's not that bad. Look, you get out and go get yourself a nice cup of tea in the cafeteria, and leave me the keys. I'll park the car up, and fit your spare wheel for you."
So without thinking about the consequences of just handing the keys to my Garry's precious car over to a total stranger, I climbed out, and made my way to the cafeteria in the supermarket. I'm not sure how long I sat staring in my empty coffee-cup, but I was in a world of my own; trying to think how I could get myself out of this mess.
I was suddenly brought back to reality as the security man dropped the keys on the table, "Ok luv, it's done. But you'll have to take it steady. The spare on that thing of yours is only rated at forty miles per hour, and it's only got a legal range of fifty miles."
I was shaken from my trance, and I tried to get my head around what he was saying, "I don't understand. Is there a problem with the spare wheel?"
"Not a problem as such. But like lots of high powered cars, the alloy wheels and tyres are too wide to fit into the space where the spare is supposed to fit. So they use a silly little get-you-home wheel and tyre."
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't swear. But what you're saying is my husband will know instantly as soon as he sees the car?"
"Well yes. It stands out a mile. Is that a problem?"
"Yes. It's his car, and since I damaged one of his wheels two years ago, he's taken me off the insurance, and won't let me drive it. So I'll have to get a new wheel and tyre today without him knowing."
"Well if you're trying to get it back to how it was without your husband knowing? A new wheel and tyre would be just as obvious."
I hadn't thought about that, and so now knowing there was no way out, my face went back into my open palms, and I resumed my crying. I was oblivious as to whether he was still there, or not.
But after what must have been a good five minutes or more, I heard him say, "I'm sorry luv, but if I can't be of any more help, I'd better go and get on with my duties."
I looked up, and through tear soaked eyes, said, "Thank you for your help, but I'll be alright. You just go; I don't want to get you into any trouble."
So off he went, and I just sat there not knowing what to do next. I guess I'd been sitting there for over half an hour, when I noticed the same man walking back towards my table. I lifted my head, and tried to put on a brave smile; but I'm sure it must have looked fake.
He opened with, "I've just had an idea." He had a big beaming smile on his face, and he looked excited. "I've got a pal who works in a scrap yard. Only these days, they don't call them scrap yards, they're called re-claimed parts suppliers. I could give him a call, and he might be able to find a replacement wheel and tyre."
He obviously saw my confused expression, as I still couldn't see how that would help.
So he continued with, "The wheel won't be brand-new, and if he can find one with the same make of tyre, your husband will never know it's not the original one. Even if the tyre is slightly more or even less worn, I'm sure he won't notice."
As the logic of his idea sunk in, my face must have lit-up, because he continued with, "Wow! That's better. I knew there'd be a pretty face in there somewhere once you started to smile. So do you want me to give Ken a call?"
"Oh yes please."
And then as I remembered my financial situation, my smile must have dropped as I asked, "But how much will it cost?"
"Hey come-on. You can't let that smile go so quickly. What ever it costs, it'll be a lot cheaper than buying a new one. Hang on I'll give him a call. Oh, do you know what year the car is?"
"No. I think all the documents for it are at home."
"It's ok; I'll get all I need from the registration plate. I'll go out to the car park and call Ken from there. Back soon."
His soon seemed like an age, but when he came back, I could tell from his face, the news wasn't going to be good.
"I've spoken to Ken, and he's checked on the computer around all the yards in Leicestershire, but you're out of luck. The nearest one is in a yard up near Derby. But again, there's a problem."
"They've got all four wheels and tyres, but he's phoned the guy, he'll only sell them as a set."
"Oh my God!"
"That's cheap really. I mean, the new tyres alone would be around two hundred apiece. And new wheels would be about the same. So a set of four would be over a grand and a half."
"But I can't get anywhere near five hundred without my husband knowing."
"Well there's only one way I can think of then."
"And that is?"
"Drive up to his yard, let him see you in person, and explain how desperate you are."
"But what good will that do?"
"Don't underestimate your charms. A pretty girl like you could sweet-talk a man into anything."
"What are you suggesting?"
"Hey don't get up-tight! I wasn't suggesting anything untoward. I just mean, a man will bend over backwards to help a pretty girl in distress."
"Well the idea is no good anyway, I couldn't even think of driving as far as Derby; especially as you said that wheel isn't safe over fifty miles."
"Well the wheel would probably get you there and back; I think the mileage is just a safety get-out clause they use to cover themselves. But are you saying you couldn't drive that far?"
"I told you, I'm not insured."
"Well yes. I know you shouldn't be on the road at all; but I thought being as you drove here."
"And that was a mistake."
"Look, I know this is a long shot, but from where I'm looking, you don't have many options open to you."
"But all the way to Derby, what if I get pulled up by the police?"
"Well like I said a second ago, that pretty smile can make men go the extra mile for you."
"Maybe, but it wouldn't stop a policeman from booking me."
"No; but my shift ends in twenty minutes, and my insurance covers me to drive any other vehicle. So I could drive you up there. It isn't strictly legal, because really speaking I need your husband's permission. But with you in the car, I'm sure the plods wouldn't think it out of order."
"What? You'd drive me?"
"If you want me to?"
"I am being serious. You must be very naïve if you haven't yet realised how far men will go just to please a pretty girl like you."
"And what do you expect to get out of it?"
"A smile, a thank you, and if I'm very lucky, maybe a kiss."
"But I'm married."
"So? I'll settle for just the smile and the thank you."
"I'm not sure. I mean, don't get me wrong, but if I won't even promise you a kiss, I can't understand why you'd go out of your way for me."
"Sometimes, just feeling good about knowing you've helped someone is its own reward."
It all sounded innocent, and everything he'd done so far had been over and above what you might expect from a total stranger. But I still felt a little uneasy about accepting his offer. But contrary-wise, had I got any alternative?
"Well thank you. So long as you don't mind me not promising you any, you know. Sexual favours in return. Then I'll be grateful for your help."
"No conditions, no ulterior motives, and definitely no payment in-kind. Now you wait here, I'll go and hand over to the next shift, and be back in ten."
So fifteen minutes later, he is walking towards the table where I'm sitting. And he's now dressed in his own clothes, that is as apposed to his store security officer's uniform. And for the first time, I see what a hunk of a man he is. His age is probably around the same as my Garry. And he's also of a similar height. But this man is broader in the shoulders and a good deal tighter in the tummy. Not that my Garry is fat, but he has started to develop a bit of a beer belly. But I shouldn't be noticing these kinds of features on other men, so I'll get back to the story.
So within a few minutes of his shift ending, we are on our way, with Ralph (the supermarket security man) behind the wheel of my husband's car. And just to keep my story accurate, as we'd both closed our doors, and he'd been busy adjusting his seat position, I'd reached across, taken his face in my hands, and kissed him. I hadn't planned to do it, but it was a sudden impulse as I looked across to him.
His reaction had been one of surprise. But even as he realised what I was doing, there was no return kiss to capitalise on my moment of vulnerability. Just a, "Wow! See I told you that fate has a way of re-paying good deeds."
"I know you deserve more than that, but I am happily married."
"I understand. Don't worry. And let's see the pretty smile you're going to use to win-over this scrap-yard man."
I smiled, and it wasn't faked. By now I was beginning to think maybe things would come right.
On the journey, we talked about general things, and at no time did he steer the conversation to anywhere that made me feel threatened. And so eventually, the car was parked in front of an old barn-type building with Andy's Used Car Parts painted on the side in big letters.
As we both got out of the car Ralph said, "Ok, let's go find Andy, and remember the big smile."
Inside the building he asked the man behind the counter, "Is Andy around?"
"He's out the back, hang on I'll go and get him."
We waited and in a minute or so the original man returned, followed by a man who looked about my dad's age (fiftyish).
As Andy saw Ralph he said, "I guess you're Ken. Come to buy the full set after all?"
"Wrong on both counts. I'm Ralph, Ken's mate. He was asking on my behalf. Or to be more accurate, on behalf of this lovely young girl."
"So I got your name wrong, but you've come for the set of alloys for an RS?"
"Well not really. You see, Cheryl here is in a real pickle."
"I hope you're not gonna give me a sob story."
"Well I was hoping you'd cut her a little slack."
By now my smile was gone, and I guess I was on the verge of tears.
Andy turned around and began to walk away, but as he reached the end of the serving counter, he paused, lifted up the section which allows access, and said, "Come on then, let's talk in my office."
We followed him through the stores, and outside across the yards to a Porta-Cabin. He sat one side of an old wooden desk, and Ralph and I sat the other. He said, "Come on then; let's hear it."
"All I know is, she drove into the car park of the supermarket where I work as a security guard, like she was being chased by the hounds of hell. But it turns out, it's hubby's car. And reading between the lines, it's my guess he's not the type to mop her tears and say never mind. I was just hoping if you saw the state she's in you might take pity on her. She's got to replace the wheel and tyre with one he won't think has been swapped."
"Well before we get into any negotiations, I guess I need to see what boots he's running and if the ones I've got match-up. You can wait here luv. We'll go take a look at your car."
So I sat and waited, and I'm guessing Ralph pleaded my case to Andy whilst they checked the wheels out. When they arrived back, Andy said, "I must be getting soft in my old age."
My heart lifted, and I asked excitedly, "Does that mean you're going to help me?"
"I'll probably never get a buyer for the three odd wheels I'll have left, and the tyre is the wrong make. So I've got to take one off another rim. But yes. Give me two hundred, and it's yours."
A lump came to my throat. He appeared to be, as Ralph had put it earlier, bending over backwards to help me. But even this wasn't enough to get me out of the hole I was in. And I hardly dare ask for what was needed.
He saw my look and asked, "Well? Ok, maybe you don't think I've earned a kiss like Ralph here. But I at least thought you'd be happy."
"I'm sorry. Please I am grateful. But I haven't got that kind of money."
"No problem. There's a hole-in-the-wall machine at the garage just half a mile up the road."
I dropped my head as I said, "I daren't take money out of our account. I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. I shouldn't have come."
"I see. So how were you thinking of paying?"
"I don't know. I never thought that far ahead. I'm sorry I wasted both of your times."
Andy and Ralph looked at each other, and Ralph said, "I could maybe stump up fifty, so long as she can pay me back."
"That's not the point. If she's strapped for cash now, finding two hundred notes to pay us back will only make her life more difficult. And even if you trust her; I've got a business to run. It's one thing going the extra mile to help, but two hundred notes is real money in anyone's book."
Ralph looked at me, "Sorry. I didn't realise your situation was so dire."
Then Andy turned in his seat, lent over to a filing cabinet, and pulled out a book. As he passed it to me he said, "Look. Don't go getting the wrong idea. It's all above board."
As I took hold, I realised it was a photograph album. As I opened it and began to turn the pages, I could see photo after photo of girls. One or two were naked, some were topless, but most of them just in swimwear or underwear. But even the naked girls were posed discreetly, with hands or other objects covering their strategic places. I guess I understood within the first two pages, that he was suggesting this as a way of me paying for the wheel, so that is why I kept turning the pages, to see how involved this would be. And completely out of what I'd have thought my reaction would be, I placed the book down and asked, "Did you take all of those?"
"Yes. They're not porno. They're real glamour. Nothing dirty."
"Yes, I can see that. And they're really quite good. But some of them are quite daring."
"But would you consider posing?"
"I'm not a model."
"Don't be silly. You're as good as any model I've ever worked with."
"So are you saying you'd pay me to model?"
"Two hundred an hour. That's what I pay the agency. So an hours modelling would cover the cost of your wheel and tyre."
"Would you expect me to pose naked?"
"Well if you're only interested in the tame swimwear, that wouldn't pay as well. So it would equate to around four hours. But as that would cost me more to hire studio time, I guess you'd have to make it two three hour sessions."
"What? I'd need to come back up here a second time?"
"As I say, unless you agree to the nude posing. I mean, it's all done tastefully. Nothing explicit, and all very respectable. Would you consider nude posing?"
"I don't know. I'm not sure if I dare."
"I'm willing to bet you've been topless on a holiday beach."
I blushed, and then said, "Only because my Garry wanted me to."
"And was it as bad as you'd feared?"
"I guess not. But there wasn't anyone around who knew us."
"And these photos I take are my personal hobby. Nobody but me ever sees them."
"If I say yes, how long will it take? I've got to get home before my Garry comes home from work."
"Oh, it won't be today, I've got to book the studio, and that's always fully booked for at least a week ahead. So if you agree, I'd need to book the next slot, and let you know."
"But I need the car fixing now."
"Yes, I'm trying to fathom that now. I mean not that you sound untrustworthy. And no offence meant. But if I fix your car, then you get cold feet when you've left here; I'm out two hundred quid."
Ralph said, "Can I have a word with Cheryl on our own? I've got an idea, but I'd like her to think it through without the pressure of you being here."
Andy just walked to the door and as he left said, "Give us a nod when you're done."
As the door closed, Ralph asked, "Are you ok with this modelling idea?"
"It's not what I'd want. And in truth, I'm not sure I'll have the nerve to go through with it. But as things stand, I can't think of any alternative."
"Ok, I've an idea of how you can satisfy Andy's need for a guarantee of delivery. And at the same time test your own resolve and determination. But once you go through with it, you'll be completely in his grip. There'll be no backing out."
"Well tell me, I've got to sort this one way or another."
"Ok, tell Andy you'll pose for a couple of shots now and also give him your address; so he'd know where to send them. That way, if you don't fulfil your part and come back to model, he can send the photos to your husband." At this suggestion, a cold chill ran down my spine, and Ralph instantly picked-up on whatever facial expression accompanied it. "Yes, I thought that would be enough to make you think twice. But you see, it also lets you prove to yourself you've got the nerve to go through with it."
"Yes. I see that. But do you think Andy will agree?"
"Well before we worry about that, the main thing is, are you prepared to do it that way?"
"If it's the only way I can get Andy to let me have a wheel; I guess I'll have to."
"So shall we ask him?"
"I guess so."
So Andy was called back in, and Ralph explained his idea to him. Andy looked at me and asked, "So you're happy to let me take the kind of photo that would make your husband blow a fuse?"
"I'd be lying if I said I was happy with the idea. But in the circumstances; as long as it is just taking a photo, and no funny business. Then yes, I'll try my best."
"Well these won't be glamour shots, so I won't need to worry about a studio."
"I guess not."
"And I'll need you to pose in way that shows you're doing it willingly, and one that can't be mistaken for an opportunistic snap taken without your knowledge. It needs to incriminate you. If you see what I mean?"
"Yes, I think so."
"You realise it won't be the tasteful glamour shot I normally take. Will you be ok with that?"
"I don't know. What are you thinking of?"
"Well now you've asked, I don't know. But as you're obviously nervous about posing, I have two suggestions before we start."
At this point he looked at Ralph as he said, "Well first, I know you came with him, but what is he to you; your lover?"
"No. Like he told you earlier, we only met this morning."
"So you'd be just as nervous about posing naked in front of him, as you would me?"
"So first off, he should leave before we start."
I looked at Ralph, and although he'd helped me so much already, I knew Andy was right.
"Well yes, I guess so."
But Ralph didn't look happy about this, and he said, "Are you sure you trust him?"
Andy snapped, "And why shouldn't she? And anyway, what difference would you being around make? What makes you so trustworthy?"
"I brought her up here to help her. I'm not the one trying to get her naked."
"So why don't you buy the wheel and tyre for her?"
"I told you I haven't..."
Andy cut him short, "No. I didn't think so. So unless you can add anything useful to her situation, I think you'd be better off taking a walk around the yard."
Ralph looked at me, "Is that what you want me to do? Leave you alone with him?"
I didn't want any of this, but if I had to pose naked, I'd prefer to do it with only one man seeing me. So reluctantly, I said, "Would you mind? I know it seams an ungrateful way to reward your kindness, but I really am nervous about taking my clothes off."
"And you feel safe on your own with him?"
"I'm sure he's trustworthy. And if this is the price I have to pay to cover my stupidity, then so be it."
Ralph didn't reply, he turned on his heals, and looking thoroughly disappointed, he walked to the door. But before he'd opened it and left, Andy said, "Hold up." Then looking at me, "You are gonna do this, aren't you?"
"Yes, I can't see I have any alternative."
"Ok. Well while you're out there, tell Chris I said to get that tyre swapped, and fitted to her car." Then looking at me, "Well that's you out of trouble. I just hope you're going to be worth it."
And then without acknowledging Andy, Ralph left, closing the door behind him.
Andy said, "Ok, now the next question. Are you driving?"
"Driving? What d'you mean?"
"I mean did you drive here and are you driving back home?"
"Well no, Ralph drove up here. And unless he's too upset with me, I was hoping he'd drive home."
"So it won't be a problem if you have a drink?"
"Oh no. I don't want a drink. One glass of wine and I go all light headed."
"That's the point." And at that, he pulled open the draw of the filing cabinet behind him and out came two glasses and a bottle of brandy. "You're nervous and this will help calm your nerves." He poured two glasses and passed me one. "Drink this down, and I'll pour you another."
"Oh no, please. I told you. I'm not a drinker."
"So it'll have all the more effect and start working quicker."
"But I don't even like the taste."
"Look luv. If you're gonna play silly buggers, I might as well just call that boy-scout back in, and get him to take you home."
"Please, I'm not trying to be awkward. But I know how drink affects me."
"Ok, if you reckon you can do this sober. Take your knickers off, and show me your twat."
"Oh my god! I thought you said the poses would be tasteful?"
"These aren't poses for me; these are pictures to make sure you come back."
"But I never imagined you'd want to take pictures like that."
"I need to make sure you're not gonna just drive off and leave me two hundred quid down. Now drink that and get those knickers off."
"I. I don't think I'd be able to pose like that, not even if I drank the whole bottle."
He took hold of my hand and put the glass into it, saying, "Drink this, and one more. And then let's see what decision you come to."
He lifted the glass to my lips, and I attempted to drink it. It tasted horrible and after just a couple of sips, I began to cough. I said, "I can't drink any more."
He again lifted the glass to my lips, "Drink."
It took a few minutes, but eventually the glass was empty. But the second I put it down, he re-filled it, lifting it again. "Come-on."
Funnily enough, the second glass was easier, and as I put it back on the table, he said, "Good girl. Now you know what comes next?"
"Please Andy. I've drunk your brandy, but I still can't do that."
"So if you can't do that now. Then I'd be stupid to let Chris fit the wheel and tyre. I mean once you get away from here, there's no way you'll come back. I mean, why would you? There'd be no point if you can't take your knickers down."
"So you're saying I can't have the wheel?"
He filled my glass again, and as he pushed it towards me, he said, "Drink this, and maybe we'll come to a compromise."
"Drink that first."
I picked up the glass and before I'd realised what I'd done, it was empty. As I put it down, and went to speak, the drinks were now making themselves known by the fuzzy feeling in my head.
It took a few seconds to gather my wits, and then I asked. "What compromise?"
"I'm guessing you'd rather get it over with now, I mean, instead of having to come back and model for me?"
"Well yes. But you said you couldn't book the studio at short notice."
"I can't but if you pose now, here in my office, then maybe we can call that payment?"
This sounded really good. For one, like he said, I'd not have to worry about returning. Two, more importantly, I'd not have to let him know how to contact my husband. And last but not least, now the posing doesn't need to be compromising.
"Oh yes, I like that idea. And I'll still get my wheel and tyre?"
"Yes. But obviously, because it's only gonna be a makeshift session, y'know, no studio lights, no wardrobe selection, and no hair stylist nor make up; I'll expect you to play ball with me."
By now, the effect of the drink was really kicking in, and I was having difficulty working out what he was saying. Not the words, but exactly what their meaning was.
"I. I'm not sure what you mean by playing ball?"
He got up from his chair and as he arrived at my side of his desk, his hands went under my armpits; lifting me to my feet. And then he guided me across to his big old settee at the other end of his office. As he backed me into a sitting position, he began to undo the buttons on my blouse.
"What you doing?"
"If you're gonna pose, we'll need this off." And he was now easing my arms from my blouse. As he dropped it to one side, he reached over the top of me, and seconds later my bra was removed. I lifted my hands to cover my breasts. But by now he was busy with my belt buckle, and once that was released he did the same to the waist button and zip on my skirt.
As he eased me back into the settee with hands on my shoulders, I said nervously, "What are you doing?"
"I told you, I'm getting you ready to pose. Now lift your bum."
I was confused, but I guessed if I was going to pose nude, even tastefully, my skirt would need to come off. So by arching my back into the settee, I lifted my bottom clear of the seat. And with hands on either side, he pulled the skirt from under me. But it was only as I felt the elasticated waistband of my knickers as they slipped under my bottom, that I was aware he was taking them as well. Leaving me totally naked.
My first reaction was to reach down and try to stop him. But again, before I'd even begun to react physically, I must have mentally accepted their removal as a necessary part of posing for him; and so my resistance was no more than just a token. And yet, it still didn't feel right.
But as he threw my skirt and knickers aside, he knelt down in front of me, saying, "There you go, that was easy." And as he put a hand on each of my knees, and slowly began to open them, "Now luv, let's see how you're gonna pay for your wheel."
I resisted, but he'd got more strength in his hands than I'd got in my legs. I even uncovered my breasts as I used my hands on his wrists. But with seemingly little effort, he spread my knees wide apart.
I pleaded, "Please Andy. I'm not ok with this."
He raised his head and looking me directly in the eye, said, "Just be a good girl, and you'll be on your way home before you know it."
"But I don't want you taking photos of me like this."
"I'm not gonna take photos. I haven't even got a camera here."
For a split second I was reassured, but as he said he hadn't even got a camera, my head went into a hyper-spin. I couldn't think what the hell was happening. And then as the only outcome of my current situation hit me, I said, "Oh no. No way. Let go of my knees."
He calmly said, "What's wrong. I'm only looking."
I was still using every ounce of my strength in an attempt to re-close my knees, but then I wondered; was this his compromise? No posing as such, but just him looking at my nakedness. I said, "That's all. I mean you're only gonna look at it?"
"For now, yes. But unless you stop fighting me, I'll up the ante."
"What d'you mean?"
"What I said. Stop fighting me; let your knees drop open. Otherwise, you might find yourself spread out along the settee, while I claim a realistic price for your wheel."
Even in my fuzzy state, it only took a split second to realise he meant he'd fuck me. And it was obvious by the relative strengths I'd encountered already, that he'd get his way. So reluctantly, I removed my hands from his wrists, and relaxed the force in my legs.
As he took his hands from my knees, he sat back on his heals, saying, "Now that's better. What was all the fuss about?" I didn't reply, but I guess without consciously realising it, my hands had gradually returned to covering my breasts. "And you can take them off there. I want to see all of you." I complied instantly; dropping my hands to the seat cushions either side of me. "And your knees, I said I wanted them open." Again I hadn't realised I'd let them close slightly. But I instantly complied, forcing them really wide. "I'm glad you've decided to cooperate. But you do realise that defiance means you've raised the stakes?"
"I. I'm sorry. I don't know what you mean?"
"You have to give willingly, and without hesitation. I told you. Fighting or resistance only ups the ante."
"But I opened my knees. Look. That's as wide open as I can get them."
"Yes. And very nice it is too. But you fought me."
"I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. I won't do it again."
"We'll see. Now edge your bottom forwards to the front of the cushion, lie back, and spread your knees as wide as you can get them."
It only took seconds, and as I lay sprawled back, he said, "Now no fighting it. I'm only gonna lick your twat. But the first sign of resistance and the price of that wheel goes up to a fuck."
So I lay there and watched as his face went down into the valley in between my legs. As his tongue touched, it ignited a flame, which grew in seconds and before he'd been at it a minute, it had spread like a forest fire. Within minutes (I have no idea how many) every part of my being wanted one thing.
And as he had now manoeuvred me to a lying-down position along the settee, where his mouth suckled from nipple to nipple as two of his fingers fucked my pussy into a lather; I guess his body was thinking the same as mine. Which was confirmed a minute or so later, as he lowered his jeans and boxer-shorts and positioned himself in between my open legs.
As his cock touched my pussy, I heaved up, and he was in. And once he was in, he wasted no time, pounding away like it was the hundred yard sprint. I guess my performance wasn't anything to write home about either. I'd gone from terrified and uncooperative, to compliant but unwilling; right through to a libido-driven auto-pilot. But through all those phases, my senses were dulled by the drink, almost to the point of numbness.
So although my body relished the fucking he was giving, it didn't respond, not even with my normal subdued sighs and gasps (my Garry didn't like me to make noises whilst we made love. He said it sounded fake; like a whore). But as I say, I had no such problems with Andy; I was too drunk to react. And I guess, as his fuck couldn't have taken more than five minutes, I'd hardly have had chance, even if sober.
But one thing about Andy, which really got my attention, was his cum. Not that I saw it, it was all shot up inside my pussy. But when my Garry cums, he usually pumps four or five times, and then pulls out. And as Garry is the only man I've been with (before today), I was surprised as Andy continued pumping. And I even started counting. I'm sure he pumped at least twelve shots, and with every one, I felt the telltale swell as the cum was pumped through his cock.
So as Andy pulled out, and pulled back up his jeans and boxers (neither of which he'd actually removed from his legs), he left the porta-cabin, saying, "I'll go and see if your cars ready."
I looked around and gathered up my clothes, but look as I may, my knickers were nowhere to be found. So fully dressed, minus knickers, I looked in the mirror on the wall to check my hair, and re-apply a little slap from my handbag. I'd checked my pussy, and apart from the usual juices present after a session (which I cleaned-up with some tissues), the copious amounts of cum didn't appear to be presenting a problem.
But it was as I'd got my skirt pulled up with legs parted, checking the area, that the door flew open without a warning knock. As Andy walked in, followed by Ralph, Andy said, "What's up luv? Want some more, now you've got the taste for it. I'm sure Ralph here wouldn't mind a bash." Then turning and looking at Ralph he continued, "You're welcome to use my couch if you want a fuck before you leave."
I'd obviously dropped my skirt and closed my legs as soon as I'd realised the door was opening. But I guess the effects of the alcohol were not just dulling my senses, they were also slowing my reactions. But even at that, I doubt Ralph got to see my naked legs. And even though I wanted to ask Andy for my knickers, I didn't want Ralph to know I hadn't got any on; so I kept that question back, hoping I'd get a better chance before leaving.
But Ralph didn't reply to Andy's question, he just came over to me, and asked, "Are you ok? I mean, I guess it's obvious what's gone on in here. But I mean, you're ok with that? He didn't rape you?"
Andy snapped in a very angry tone, "Rape! Don't you go saying things of that sort. I explained her situation to her, and she agreed this was the easiest way to settle it." Then looking at me, "Tell him."
Had I been raped? I definitely didn't agree to let him fuck me. In fact, I'm not too sure what I agreed to. And most of what I did, I only did because I knew he'd force me otherwise. I mean he threatened that; hadn't he?
But if I even suggested rape, not only would the wheel he was supplying evaporate, but if the police got involved, my Garry would find out and he'd kill me; or worse.
So against every instinct I felt about telling the truth, I meekly said, "No Ralph, he didn't rape me. I settled the bill for the wheel and tyre, so now I won't need to come back."
"And you're alright? You look a little confused."
"She had a few glasses of brandy. Dutch courage to get over her shyness."
I added, "Yes. But maybe I should have stopped at two, that third one has really made me woozy."
Andy said, "So Ralph, are you gonna claim your reward. The offer is still open if you want me to make myself scarce while you have some sloppy seconds. Mind you, I will say this. She's right about one drink too many, it's a bit like fucking a blow-up doll."
I felt so low, not only had I got two strangers talking about sex with me as, sloppy seconds, he was as good as saying it hadn't been worth the effort he'd put in to get into my knickers.
Ralph said, "Do you have to be so crude? You took what you wanted. Can't you be satisfied with that without humiliating the girl? Come on Cheryl, let's get you home."
"Don't be so sensitive. She knew when she let you drive her all the way up here that she'd have to fuck. It stands to reason. You don't go shopping and knowingly leave your wallet at home. She knew if push came to shove, she'd have to use her twat to pay the bill. So you being the Sir Galahad and not taking your rightful reward don't impress nobody."
By now, Ralph had his arm around my shoulders and was escorting me down the step from the porta-cabin. But we both heard Andy's last remark. "If you change your mind on the way home, she'll be no problem. She hasn't got any knickers on."
Ralph said to me quietly, "Ignore him, if I'd realised he was that sort, I'd have looked for a different scrap-yard."
"It's alright. What's done is done. And providing we can get my husband's car back where it belongs without him knowing, I'll be ok."
On the drive back home, the atmosphere was very subdued, and I'd dropped back in my trance-like state. It was only as we reached the outskirts of Leicester and I began to recognise where I was, that things began to come back to me.
And then I heard Ralph say, "Ah, are you awake?"
"Awake? I haven't been sleeping."
"Well I don't know where you were. But you weren't here on this planet. Are you ok?"
"Yes, I'm fine."
"You're not fine. But will you be ok to drive back to your house from the supermarket. Or do I need to take you home?"
"Yes if that's what you want. But we'd better re-fill the tank, after a journey that far, your husband's likely to notice."
Again my heart sank, I knew I hadn't got enough money for the amount of fuel it would need. "I don't know how to put this."
"I know. You're going to say you haven't got enough money."
"Well yes, but..." Then I hesitated, "I mean, did you want to..."
He held his hand up to stop me as he interrupted, "A thank you and kiss will do. For today anyway. Maybe once the drink has worn off, in a few days time. If you still feel I'm owed when you're sober, then I'd be more than willing to take a reward, whatever you're offering. But for now, let's get you home safe, and hope hubby doesn't realise you've been drinking."
I lent across and kissed him on his cheek, "Thank you."
So he stopped at a filling station, topped-up the tank, and drove me to our house. Where he reversed the car into our garage, leaving it in the same position as it had been when my Garry left it. And then as he closed our garage doors, he said, "Can I use your phone to call a taxi?"
"Oh god! I'm sorry. I never even thought about you having to get back."
"Well I'm sure you don't want me here to meet your husband."
"No. Oh I am so sorry. I've been so much trouble to you. I know I owe you a great deal. Maybe one day I'll be able to show you."
"Just tell me you're ok, and give me a smile."
I dashed across to him, and right there in the front garden, without thinking about any neighbours who might have been watching, I planted a big kiss on his lips.
"So can I come in and use your phone?"
As I turned and made my way to the door I said, "Come on, it's in the hall."
So he phoned a taxi, and then whilst we waited, he said, "If I was you, I'd start getting some coffee into my system, maybe it'll help sober you up a little before hubby comes home." And then handing me a packet of extra-strong mints he'd taken from his pocket, "Here, I picked these up when I got the petrol. Pop one in your mouth before you give him his welcome home kiss. It might disguise the smell of the brandy."
As I took them from him, I again went up onto my toes and gave him a kiss. "I will pay you back." Then seeing a glint in his eye, I qualified that with, "The money, that is. I mean I can't have you been out of pocket as well as taking up your whole day."
"There's no need."
"No. I insist. Where should I contact you? At the supermarket?"
"Perhaps better not. You know how tongues start wagging. What if I give you my mobile number?"
"Ok. It might take me a day or two, to get the money together. But I will pay you."
He just handed me a piece of paper, and said, "Well here's my number, but there really is no hurry. And if you find it's more of a problem than you thought, I won't hold you to repaying."
I took the slip of paper he'd written his number on, and again, I kissed him. He looked into my eyes with a fixed glare. I asked, "What?"
"Can I kiss you back?"
There was something about his look that I wasn't sure about, but disregarding this, I said, "Yes."
His arms encircled me, and he drew me up to himself. Our lips met; his tongue entered my lips, and as it touched my tongue, my body shook. For the next two or three minutes, my passion built into an inferno, as our tongues entwined. And I still wonder now, how far that embrace would have led if the noise of the taxi outside blowing his horn hadn't intervened.
But thankfully it did, and on hearing it, Ralph put me down, saying, "I'd better go."
Seconds later he was on his way. I went back out to the garage to give the car one more check-over, and then I followed Ralph's advice regarding the coffee as I tried to put the day's events out of my mind.
My Garry came home as usual, and left for work the next morning, without him picking-up on my intoxicated state, or the fact I driven his car.
The next event took me totally by surprise the following morning, as I went out to put a bag into our bin at the side of our garage. I guess I blame what happened now on my attitude some six months ago.
You see it had been after one of Garry's tantrums, where he'd started in beating on me, and I'd run out of the front door. Garry had caught me, and dragged me back inside. But unbeknown to us, the neighbour living directly opposite had seen what had taken place, and phoned the police.
So the first thing we knew was when they arrived at our door. They insisted on seeing me, and although Garry had knocked me about a little, there were no obvious outward signs. So when I confirmed Garry's story about us just playing a childish game of chase, as part of our love-making, the police left without any repercussions.
But the attitude I was referring to, was mine the next day. I went across to the neighbour, and told him in no uncertain terms to keep his nose out of our business. He made excuses about just being a vigilant neighbourhood watch member, and how he was doing it for my own good. But the foul mouthful I left him with, made sure he was one man who would never have me on his Christmas card list.
But I guess you're wondering what any of that has to do with this morning's events. Well yesterday I had kissed Ralph in broad daylight in our front garden, and Mr Granger (our vigilant neighbour) must have seen me. Because as I went out to put a bag in our bin at the side of our garage on the Friday morning (the day after my car accident and trip to Derby), I heard someone calling.
"EXCUSE ME. Mrs Trent. Can I have a word?"
I turned to see him scampering across the road, and making his way up our drive towards me. I curtly asked, "Yes. What is it?"
"It's a little proposition I want to put to you."
"I've been taking some photos, I wondered if you wanted to come and take a look at them?"
"No. Why would I?"
"I think you should. I mean if you're not interested, I can just pop them in an envelope and send them to your husband at the shop where he works. He does still work at the local hardware store? Silly me, of course he does. I saw him in there yesterday while you were out driving with your new friend in your husband's car."
My mind was racing, he'd obviously seen me going out in Garry's car, and Ralph driving it back and parking it in our garage.
I tried to bluff my way out, "Oh you mean Ralph, Garry's brother. Yes he drove me to see Garry's mom. She wasn't feeling well."
I thought the connection to Garry would dispel any sexual element to the kiss I'd given Ralph (if he'd seen it).
But he just turned around and as he started to walk back to his house, he said casually, "Ok, I'll go and pop them in an envelope, and then we'll see if you get another beating in a couple of days. Oh, and don't worry. This time, I won't call the police to help you."
I didn't know if he was bluffing, but the last thing I wanted to do was to admit that anything was going on. So I thought I'd sit it out and see what he did. I went back into my house and from behind the curtains; I watched to see if he was going to carry-out his threat. And sure enough, after nearly ten minutes, he was walking down his front path, with a large buff envelope in his hand.
I dashed out of the door and ran across the road to intercept him, "Let me see that?"
He stopped, turned around, and just handed me the envelope. I first looked at the address; it was addressed to my husband, via the shop where he worked on the main street. I felt through the paper of the envelope, and sure enough, it did feel like there were several thicker cards inside. These could indeed be photos. And then I got an idea.
I held it up just out of his reach, with two hands, and fingers positioned ready to rip it in half, "So what if I rip it up?"
"You can if you want to. I'll just print some more. But if you want the originals deleting from my PC, you'll need to come to my house."
"And then what?"
"Persuade me to delete them."
"Use your imagination."
I did use my imagination. And as he was a retired teacher, and now an old man, who had to be at least sixty years of age. The thought made my flesh cringe, "You dirty old sod."
"I'm not the one who has been caught playing around. So, what's it to be, are you going to give me that envelope back, so I can post it?"
"Ok, I'll go and print another set, and I'll post it the first time you go out."
"No, wait. If I was to come to your house, what would you expect me to let you do to me?"
"Let me see. I expect your attitude to change, and you to do what you just said."
"What did I just say?"
"Well I distinctly heard you say you'd fuck me."
"Oh no. I'm not going that far. I'm married."
"You should have thought of that before you started carrying on with that man."
"That man was helping me. And the only thing I did with him was to kiss him to say thank you."
"Well tell your husband that."
"No look please. You know what my Garry's temper is like."
Just at that moment another neighbour came into sight, walking on our side of the road. Mr Granger said, "We shouldn't be discussing this out here. Come back to my house, and we can get this over with."
So reluctantly, I decided I'd have to follow him. Not to go back to his house to be fucked; but just to complete the discussion in private.
So as we walked together back to his house, we passed the other neighbour, and both said hello. And then as I followed him in through his front door, into his hallway, he closed the door behind us. I'd stood to one side, waiting for him to pass me and lead the way. But as he got level, he grabbed my upper arms, and pinned me back against the wall. He began to force kisses on my lips, and one of his hands started to grope my breasts. I struggled, but he managed to get the front of my blouse open by pulling at it. And then he was tugging at my bra, and I felt that go slack as something gave-way. Now his hands were groping from naked breast to breast, and I was thumping on his back for all I was worth with my one free hand.
He obviously thought he'd got the upper-hand, and I guess I was beginning to think the same. He then released my other arm, and used that hand instead to reach up under my skirt, grabbing a handful of my crotch. This triggered some kind of sudden surge of strength in me. I managed to bring one hand around and across, landing a moderately heavy blow to his ear. I say moderately heavy, but it was delivered with all the force I could muster, and it was enough to make him wince.
"You little bitch."
But in the same way as his hand up my skirt had triggered a reaction from me, punching him in the ear must have unleashed a violence in him. And a split second after he'd shouted abuse at me, I felt an unbelievable pain. And with that pain, I was pulled off my balance. I fell backwards, being dragged by my hair. My hands instantly reached up above and behind my head, to clasp around the wrists of his hands.
I clung onto his wrist for all I was worth, attempting to alleviate at least some of the pain as he dragged me the length of his hallway, and through into his lounge at the back of his house. From the first second he'd grabbed my hair, I'd started screaming, and in the few seconds it took him to drag me from his hall until he dumped me on my back on the settee in his lounge, I screamed ever last gasp of breath from my lungs. As he dropped me onto the settee, and as the searing pain from my scalp receded, the relief was overwhelming. At this point I stopped my screaming, but only to replace it with a pitiful sobbing.
Whereas he was still in full Neanderthal mode. The instant he'd dropped me, he'd then stood back, and dropped his trousers, then slowly lowered his underpants to the floor. He may have been an old man, but his cock was obviously still in good working order. And as if to prove it, it stuck up proudly from his crotch, proclaiming itself ready for action. I saw his hands approaching my legs, but it wasn't until they disappeared up under my skirt and I felt them tugging at the waistband of my knickers, that I found the wherewithal to react.
My hands took his wrists as they appeared from under my skirt, and I pulled with all my strength. But although this neighbourhood busybody was only a retired old school teacher, his strength overwhelmed mine with ease. Hence the knickers just kept sliding down my legs, and as he threw them aside, he wrenched his wrists from my hands.
His hand then approached my legs, and in a desperate attempt to prevent him from taking hold of them, I kicked my legs about violently. He was in no hurry to grab them, but stood patiently waiting for his opportunity. And as he saw a momentary pause in the movement of my right leg, he struck, taking hold of my ankle. I still kept thrashing my left leg around, but he obviously knew I'd eventually run out of steam, so he again just stood patiently waiting.
It was around this point it became obvious to me, that my fate was sealed, and I had no way of overpowering him. So I stopped the kicking, and just lifted my left leg high and wide. As he took hold of my ankle, I pleaded, "Please Mr Granger. It's obvious I can't fight you off. But you've got such a big cock. Please, will you lick me up; otherwise you'll rip me apart."
In truth, his cock was no bigger than my Garry's. And as up to now, this was only the third rampant cock I'd ever seen; I wasn't really in a position to know big from little. But I did know one thing; men always have a paranoia about cock size. And from what I could tell so far, he'd obviously believed my exaggeration. Because he stood there looking so smug as he inspected my naked crotch. And then after a good twenty or more seconds, he said, "It's a bit on the hairy side for licking."
"Please, I'm begging you. Or use some kind of lubricant on your fingers to get me worked-up. A cock that big will tear me if you take me dry."
He released my ankles, and as he stood back I dropped them to the floor, closing my legs at the same time.
He arrogantly said, "If you want me to lick you, open your legs, and hold them up with your hands under your knees." I instantly did as he'd asked, lifting, and spreading as wide as I could. "That's better." And then he went down onto his knees, and just before his tongue touched, he said, "Relax; you're going to enjoy this."
His tongue touched the soft flesh at the tops of my legs, and my body shook. It took all my resolve to keep my head, and focus on what I'd got to do. So as he got into his stride (so to speak), I drew my knees up as high and wide as I could manage. But instead of letting my legs point to the ceiling, I kept my knees bent, so that my feet were hovering just above the head working feverishly on my crotch. I waited, and I waited. How long I waited, I'm not sure. But as he appeared to know what he was doing in the pussy licking department, I was beginning to think my resolve would falter, and hence all would be lost.
But then I saw his head starting to lift, so I summoned up every ounce of courage and determination. And as he eased his face up from my crotch, and looked my way, I let my legs spring out. My heals dug into his neck, just below his chin, and as I heaved so hard, it pushed me back into the arm at the end of the settee. But from then onwards, as my legs sprang out like a coiled spring, my feet tipped him off balance, throwing him into a heap on his back on the floor.
I jumped to my feet, and grabbed the nearest movable piece of furniture. It happened to be the piano stool, a heavy and very solidly made one. So as I threw it down on top of him, sheet music flew in all direction from the seat base. I didn't stop to see if it had struck a damaging blow, and neither did I stop to collect my shoes nor knickers. In fact I was out of the room, down the hall, and through the front door before I even thought about pulling the two sides of my blouse together.
And even then I didn't stop running, I just grabbed the loose material from either side, and held them to my chest as I ran across the road to my house as fast as I could.
Back at my house I hurriedly got changed, and not knowing what else to do, or who else to turn to, I phoned Ralph. We arranged to meet a couple of streets away, as I didn't dare risk him coming back to my house. As he pulled up alongside where I was waiting, I got into his car. As soon as he drove off, I started to tell him about what had just taken place.
Once he'd got the whole story from me, he thought for a while, and then said, "It looks like there are only two options open to you. One, you go back, and let him have his way with you. But make sure you get to see him delete the files not just from his PC, you need to see him delete the ones from the memory card on his camera as well."
"I know things went further than they should have done yesterday, but I don't want anything of that sort to happen again. I think it might be better if I just tell Garry and take the punishment I deserve."
"Well before you go getting into hot water with your husband, there is option two."
"What is option two?"
"I could go around to his place now, and put the fear of god into the bastard. Make sure he's too frightened to spill the beans."
"Would that work?"
"I don't know, but if it doesn't, it's no worse than you just coming clean."
"I don't approve of violence, you won't actually hurt him?"
"No. I just thought him being old; maybe the threat would be enough to deter him."
"I guess it's worth a try."
So I was dropped off in the same street that he'd picked me up from, and whilst I walked home, Ralph drove ahead of me, and called on Mr Granger. As I arrived at the end of our street, I saw Ralph's car driving away from Mr Granger's house. I felt a certain self-satisfied mood descend over me as I walked those last few steps back to my house, knowing that Mr Granger had now been made to feel as threatened as he'd made me feel earlier.
But the feeling didn't last. As I approached our drive, Mr Granger called across the road to me, "YOU STUPID BITCH. YOU'RE GOING TO REGRET DOING THAT."
The anger and force with which he shouted, sent a chilling shiver down my spine. I knew instantly, he wasn't bluffing. But I couldn't conduct any kind of conversation across the street. And I certainly dare not go over to his house. So I ran inside, and looked up his telephone number, and rang him and within a couple of rings, he picked-up.
"Mr Granger. It's me. Mrs Trent. Tell me what you've done?"
"You'll find out soon enough."
"Tell me. Maybe I'll do what you want."
"Too late for that. But I'll be watching out for the fireworks when your husband arrives home."
And then the phone went dead. I was panic struck, and again, all I could think about doing was to ring Ralph's mobile. He said he'd need to come to the house, but that he'd park in the next road and walk to my house. So ten minutes later, as I saw him entering our drive, I rushed to the door and quickly let him inside.
He said he'd been parked near the end of our road, and had kept Mr Granger's house in view all the time, so there was no way he'd got out to post the photos. He then asked if me and my husband shared the same email address. I told him no, and that I didn't even know the password to get in to read my husbands emails. So off to the computer he went, and by using some combination of keys he brought up a window which was just a black screen. It reminded me of how computers looked in old films.
And then after about ten minutes with him tapping away at the keyboard and loads of mumbo-jumbo scrolling up the screen, he said, "Ah, got it. So who is Kelly?"
"Kelly. What do you mean?"
"His password is Kelly. Who do you know called Kelly?"
"I see. So who is she?"
"That's the girl he used to be going out with before we met."
"Well maybe this is just a carry-over password from way back then. Anyway, I think we ought to concentrate on the matter in hand."
So within seconds Garry's emails were coming into view, and Ralph said, "That's the one; it's taking ages to download, so it's got a big attachment."
And sure enough, as the email opened, there were the pictures. A close-up taken with a long lens, showing my face quite clearly as I looked to see what was coming in the road before pulling out of our drive. Just this one picture would have been enough to get me into trouble, but picture two showed Ralph reversing Garry's car back into the drive. And then the picture of me kissing Ralph. And next, Ralph following me into our house. And last, me blowing Ralph a kiss as he is leaving. Something I don't even remember doing.
"Oh god! Can you delete it so Garry doesn't see it?"
"Yes, that's no problem. And I'll put that bloke's email address into your Garry's blocked senders list."
"What will that do?"
"If he sends any more, it will automatically dump them in the junk folder and delete them."
"But won't Garry know?"
"It's a million to one shot that he's ever even looked into his blocked senders list. And even if he sees it, he'll assume it was put there by the spam filter."
"So I'll be safe from him sending any emails in future?"
"To here, yes. Unless that guy knows what we've done and uses a different email address to send from. The thing to do is nothing. Let him assume you have no idea how he intends to contact Garry."
"So I'm safe now?"
"Well I guess until he realises that you've managed to intercept that email. I guess at first he'll re-send it, but that won't work, it'll just get blocked and deleted. But I'd think after a few days, he'll either assume you and your husband have sorted it out, or he could try to contact him in person."
I really doubt he'd do that, he knows my Garry hasn't got any time for him, so I hope he'd fight shy of that. Well I guess he could post them to the shop, like he threatened before, but I'm sure he'll wait a few days to see what reaction his email brings."
I again kissed him and then said, "I am sober now."
He didn't take any more encouraging than that, and after starting with kisses, we were soon entangled in an embrace on the floor of our lounge. The kisses soon migrated from my lips to my breasts, which he'd previously exposed and had been up to now fondling with his hands. And as he began to suckle from nipple to nipple, this in itself would have raised the level of stimulation. But as his hands left my breasts, they were now under my skirt and working their way into my knickers via one of the leg holes. And as they made their way in, moving the gusset aside, his fingers found my pussy.
As we were no longer kissing, my mouth was unencumbered, so there was nothing to stifle my gasps, and sighs as his foreplay began to take over my body. I'm not sure just how much time he spent suckling on my breasts and fingering my pussy, but I do remember him saying, "Lift your bottom." And as he said it, I became aware of his hands on the waistband of my knickers. I lifted, and he slipped them from under my bottom and off my legs. He didn't need to tell me to open my legs; I did this as soon as the knickers left my feet. And as I looked to see his reaction, I saw him. Now standing, at a position somewhere down by my feet, he slowly lowered his trousers and underpants.
Now I'd said earlier that I wasn't in any position to be able to judge big from small in cock size. But as his underpants dropped, uncovering his cock, I let out a gasp. "Oh my god Ralph. That's a monster." And this time, I wasn't making it up to bolster his ego. It was fatter and longer than my Garry's or either of the other two cocks I'd seen, by a factor of at least one and a half times. I'm guessing it must be getting on for ten inches long.
As Ralph heard my exclamation, he smiled and said, "Don't worry. I won't force it up all in one go." Then as he lowered himself down into position, and his face came up to mine. He added softly, "Don't look so frightened. You'll soon get used to it. Just relax and don't tense-up. I'll take my time."
And that is precisely what he did. He resumed with kissing and in seconds our tongues were tangled around each others. His hands had resumed the manipulation of my breasts. And the big fat bulbous end of his cock was sliding on a gossamer film of pussy juices; back and forth from the front of my pussy slit, right back as far as my bottom. And as it passed each of my holes, it appeared to give just a little nudge. Not that it actually entered either hole, and in truth I can't say it was Ralph who was probing; I was so turned-on, it could have been me impaling myself. But regardless of whom it was that was reconnoitring the others sex, the effect this little peek-a-boo was having was unmistakable.
And even though the only intrusion my bottom had ever experienced had been my Garry's finger (which he liked to insert just prior to him cuming), it was now actively puckering up to the silky wet end of the cock each time it passed. But whereas the fat end would just balk at the entrance to my bottom, slowly but surely, each time it lingered at my pussy, it would nudge just a little deeper. And as my hole was now almost accepting the bulbous head with each nudge, the stretching was beginning to be painful. To the point, where I had to pull my mouth from his, and cry out. "Oh god Ralph. I'm sorry. It's too big for me."
He held me tightly to himself and said softly, "Just be patient. It'll go. Just don't rush it. You're pushing too hard."
Was it me pushing? I hadn't been sure. But now, as he said it, I knew he was right. He brought his lips back to mine, and we resumed our kissing. But although I cooperated, I was consciously making an all-out effort to control my heaving motion. And then without warning, as I felt his cock nudging into the entrance to my pussy, I felt the bulbous head plop inside. And once the head was in, the stretching sensation began to move up slowly inside me. I don't think it penetrated more than a few inches before he withdrew a little, and then pushed again.
I say he withdrew, because although I now admit I was probably the one forcing it in, it was definitely him who relieved the pressure when he sensed my pain was getting too intense. And after each momentary withdrawal, my following heave would drive it ever deeper. And within a few minutes, I was taking his full length; but not without pain. But as intense as the initial pain was, the exhilaration that accompanied each of the thrusts just sent my libido into hyper-space. So much so, that before he'd been riding me for a minute with his full length, my body shook as it was gripped by a spasm-like orgasm. It was so intense he had to pause his shafting until it had passed over me.
But once it passed and my body resumed its previous heaving motion, Ralph whispered in my ear, "Ok girl, let's see how grateful you are."
And that is what I did. Yes I know he was actively thrusting his monstrous length in and out of my pussy. But I was so hyped up, sexually and emotionally, with gratitude, I just went all out for it. Verbally and physically. And when we came, it was like nothing I'd ever experienced. And even though conscious of my writing and heaving long after he'd finished and pulled out, I was unable to control my bodily actions.
So after spending a good five minutes oozing gunge and uncontrollably making sighs and grunting, I eventually came down to earth, to hear him say, "I haven't got much time left, but if we be quick about it, we should just about be able to have one more before I leave." Then adding, "You can go on top this time, I think you've got a more pent up frustration to use up than me."
And as he was already lying on his back with that monstrous cock pointing rampantly skyward, I meekly complied. Crawling across the carpet, lifting my leg up and over his torso, and then carefully lowering myself down onto that glorious cock. And then from the body of this meek and ashamed housewife, emerged a sex hungry nymphomaniac. I literally went berserk, fucking him with every ounce of my strength and without any concern for my marital status, or even my pride. I can't even kid myself that I was fucking him as a reward or compensation for the help he'd given me. I was fucking, cos I wanted fucking, and it was as though only his monster size cock would do the job.
Well despite my best efforts, and even though I twice induced two more spasm-like orgasms; where, like the first time, they were so intense the fucking had to pause until they had passed over me. It wasn't until some fifteen or so minutes later, that I managed to make him cum. And by then, his coming triggered my third orgasm. And what an orgasm. I writhed around grinding my pussy down onto his cock, whilst the juices didn't just ooze from me, they literally gushed. And I even continued for some minutes after his cock had gone soft and slipped out. Sliding my crotch up his torso and as my pussy poured out a river of gunge; I cupped his face and smothered him with kisses.
It was only when I came down, that the reality of the grossness of my performance hit me. The carpet was a mess. I was a mess. And more humiliating for me, poor Ralph was a mess. The only saving grace was, that after that first fuck, and whilst he'd been watching my embarrassing display. He'd stripped himself naked. And so although he was covered in my sticky juices, his clothes were not.
Well after such a wanton performance, I instantly reverted back to my normal self. And now seeing what depths I'd sunk to, I was not just embarrassed, I was mortified. But Ralph wasn't a bit fazed; he got to his feet and said, "Well you certainly come out of your shell once the right buttons are pushed." I didn't reply, but just grabbed my skirt and held it up to myself to provide some cover. He continued, "Don't look so sheepish. That was some fuck you just gave. I told you you'd soon get accustomed to the size." Then with just a few seconds pause, "Mind you. Your husbands cock will never be enough from now on." And then adding after another little pause, "Still, if you're ever in need of a little extra size to bring yourself off, you know our supermarket's motto."
By now, I was coming to terms with my situation and I had been listening to him. But this last part, I couldn't quite understand. I knew he worked as a security guard at Morrisons, but not what their motto was. But before I found the words to ask him, I guess my look asked for me, and he said, "More of what matters. And judging by what you've just shown me. As far as you're concerned, a good hard fucking is what matters to you. Come on now, I'm only kidding you. Anyway, it's time I was on my way. Is it ok if I go use your shower? The wife'll know I've been up to no good if she gets a whiff of this lot."
"Yes, yes. It's the door at the top of the stairs. Oh, and there's towels in the airing cupboard."
So as soon as he was in my bathroom, I dashed up to my bedroom and found out some fresh clothes to wear. And then after doing a rudimentary clean-up using my original clothes as cleaning cloths, I dressed and went down to wait for Ralph to finish his shower. And the longer I waited, the more nervous I got. It wasn't even as if he'd taken much longer in the shower, than it had taken me to do my makeshift job of cleaning myself up. But long time or not, when he appeared back in my lounge, I was a bundle of nerves and I even struggled to lift my face and look him in the eye.
He obviously noticed my shyness, and his first words were, "It's not that bad. I know you're probably thinking hell is going to open up and devour you for your wickedness. But believe me, on wickedness scale, that little episode of ours wouldn't even get you onto the bottom rung of the ladder. Well I'd better get gone, but if his nibs across the road gives you any trouble, just give me a call. And on the other score, you know, in a week or twos time, when the ache in your pussy gets too much to bear, same thing; give me a call and I'll come and sort it." And then he approached me, bringing his hands up to cup my face. I presumed, to kiss me. But as soon as I suspected his intention, I backed away, turning my face to the side. "Oh come on. I don't deserve the cold shoulder treatment. Ok, I'll go. But if things don't work out with your neighbour, and you end up calling for my help; then I'll make you pay for that snub. Ok, if that's it, I'll go."
And that is what he did.
I then spent all the rest of the afternoon cleaning the carpet and making sure there were no traces of me and Ralph's activities for my husband to find when he returned home.
So was that the last I saw of Ralph?
Did my neighbour give up trying to send the pictures to my husband?
I guess I'll have to finish this story another time, that is if enough people email Lordjohnthomas@hotmail.com to show there is sufficient interest in a part two.