Chapter 2: A Dark Sun Rising - May

18 months, 568 days since Jenny's disappearance

I'm sitting in the bar at my hotel, thinking about the course, thinking about my resolutions. Then I find I'm smiling to myself, remembering the daydreams I had about Gwenda earlier on, as I walked back from the course.

I'm playing with my mobile phone, absent-mindedly flicking through the menus. I look down. Without realising it I've thumbed through to Gwenda's number. There in the "A's" is Gwenda Andrews.

For a few moments I stare at the phone. My rational mind is saying 'it is time to move on Joe"; my emotional mind is saying "call her, call her"; but I'm still full of indecision. Am I sure? Is this really the right time? Shouldn't I wait till I am back home? Maybe ask her out for a coffee and lunch? You don't know what might be round the corner?"

My thumb skates lightly across the screen, back and forth, back and forth - and in an instant the screen changes to say "Calling Gwenda Andrews." By the time I've realised what I've done the connection has been made and Gwenda's number is ringing!

Should I cancel the call? But then she will know I've tried to be in touch anyway ... My thumb, apparently with a mind of its own, fumbles to touch the Cancel Call button but I'm too slow.

"Hi, Joseph!"

"Gwenda." Now I'm feeling stupid. There must be something more to say than this.

"So?"

"Erm, look I am still in London and I er, wondered if you were around. If you are not doing anything tonight maybe we could have something to eat, together?"

"Joseph, how sweet of you! Yes, I am here and No, I am not doing anything tonight, so yes, let's meet up. Where are you?"

"I'm at the Premier Inn on Euston Road, by the station."

"The Premier Inn? For goodness sake! You need to be taken out of yourself. Well, I am at Hazlitts Hotel just off Soho Square. Meet me there. About seven? If you walk to Euston, you can catch the Northern Line."

"Sure, I know." Just for a moment I'm feeling a bit patronised. Even if I live in the sticks, I still know my way around London, after all. It doesn't dampen my enthusiasm, though. "Yes, right! I'll be there..."

"You had better be", says Gwenda chuckling, "us girls don't like being kept waiting"

After I hang up I realise that I am smiling broadly. I haven't felt like this since ... since ... well, it's been a long time now. I shower; clean my teeth; change my clothes. As I start the journey, I'm aware now of how brightly the sun is shining and how sweet the air smells.

I reach the hotel by 7pm and find Gwenda in the lounge. She has been reading Vogue and New Civil Engineer. It's a curious mixture, but that's Gwenda! The hotel is a boutique place; quite small and very smart. I tell her that I like it.

"Well, Joseph, I am on my own and a little luxury never hurt a girl, huh?"

"No, absolutely not"

"So what kept you back? I was going to a concert last night and thought I would stay to do the shops today. What about you?"

"Ah..." It's a perfectly reasonable question but I don't feel I can be absolutely truthful; can I really say, 'well I have just done this course on how to tie people up'? After all, what would she think? On the other hand I haven't prepared a vanilla answer. "Er, well, erm - just seeing friends and I was going back maybe tomorrow, so I just wondered if you were in London too?"

"And called, in case?"

"Yes, I called, in case."

"I am glad. That's nice. Well, let's eat. I have fixed the table."

There's no restaurant in the hotel. Gwenda leads the way out and off down Frith Street. She looks fantastic. Very smart but very casual. She's wearing a loose white dress and sandals on her bare feet. She smells sweet and exotic. Her hair is quite long. It's has been styled to reduce some of its natural curliness to fall from her head in glossy black ringlets. She smiles. A flash of white in a dusky face her eyes bright and sparkling.

It's only a short walk. The restaurant has the same style as the hotel and the meal is wonderful. The food fresh and light. The wine delicate and refreshing. Gwenda wants to order for us both. I don't argue. Seasonal fruits to start, steak, oysters and seasonal vegetables for mains, orange and lemon sorbet to finish. At the end, I feel satisfied but not sated. Gwenda suggests coffee back at the hotel. In her room.

When we reach Gwenda's room I have to pause behind her, as she unlocks the door. Across the threshold she stops and turns. "Now start by taking your shoes and socks off, boy," she smiles. "Guys look nicer when they are barefoot."

I smile quizzically in return, uncertain where this is leading, but I do as she asks. I pad into the room after her.

It's a large room, but even so the bed dominates it. It's hard to imagine that this is only about coffee – especially after the 'take your shoes off" thing. Gwenda pours out two glasses of sparkling mineral water. "Here, Joseph. Coffee makes your mouth taste sour."

I'm not used to this sort of directness – at least in the vanilla world – and it's pretty obvious that if she's worried about how my mouth tastes, then she certainly didn't suggest a coffee just to be friendly. The sparkling water bubbles in my mouth, making me giggle. Or maybe it's the tension of the situation. Gwenda giggles too and flops down on a sofa.

She crosses her legs. She beckons me towards her. She is wearing soft leather thong sandals with a low wedge heel. They are smart, look comfortable and are very elegant, all at the same time. A gold band encircles her ankle.

"I like to have my feet kissed..."

"You do?" So, not so vanilla after all, I'm thinking.

"Absolutely."

"Then I had better..."

"Yes, you better had!"

I kneel beside her and reach down to touch her with my lips. Ankle. Dorsum, toes, sandal, dorsum, heel. It's easy to become fascinated by each curve, each subtle shift in the tone of her skin.

"Mmmmmm. Very nice. Carry on!"

I do. Left foot, right foot, left foot; rubbing my lips gently along the skin of her feet. Her skin carries a sweet perfume and the leathery smell of her feet and sandals increase the erotic temperature.

"Now slip my shoes off."

Again, I do as she asks.

"Now let me feel your tongue on my toes - Ohh, that is very nice - now just swirl your tongue in between. Mmmmm. You know, I could get to like this. If you are available, Joseph I think you might end up doing this quite often!"

I look up and smile.

"Now my ankles and calves. Nice and slow, nice and slow, nice and slowwww. After all you have plenty of time. In fact, I'd say you have all night, to get this right." She chuckles. A deep, sexy, satisfied chuckle. Like a cat who has caught her prey.

All night, I think, she wants me here all night!

Gradually, guided by Gwenda's gentle instructions, my lips and tongue make the journey to her knees. She stands and peels the dress over her head. Gwenda stands looking down at me, smiling. I gaze up at her: she is wearing white thong panties, bright against her dark skin and nothing else. Her breasts hang bare, her nipples taught and erect.

"Up!"

My lips and tongue explore her inner thighs. She parts her legs. I move my head between them, slowly making my way upwards increasingly aware of Gwenda's growing arousal. When my lips brush the thin white cotton covering her vulva, she is very wet. Her thong is damp. She smells wonderful: musky, exotic, ready.

"Now you, boy, are going to strip and then you are going to peel my panties down with your teeth. Think you can manage that?"

I clear my throat and catch my breath. "Yes, Ma'am," I say. I know it's the right response. It's what she's looking for. "Yes, Ma'am. I can do that."

She bends and takes my chin in her hand. Our eyes meet. It's obvious to her, that I know, that she knows what we both want. "I am so glad you have manners, boy."

The final "boy" disarms me completely. I strip and kneel. I push my tongue beneath the edge of her thong, lift the edge between my teeth, and gradually pull it down her thighs, past her knees, down to her ankles. In one quick movement, Gwenda steps out of it and stands gloriously naked in fronts of me. She's tall and powerful with a taut, muscular body; her wonderfully dark, tanned skin, wet and aroused!

"I think your tongue knows where to go now, Hmmm?" she says.

It does. It explores the world of her labia and her clit, all moist, hot, slippery, anxious, ready.

"Here:" she hands me a condom as if she was tossing a biscuit to a dog. "Sheath up!"

By the time I have the condom in place, Gwenda is laying on her bed, Knees wide, her vulva glistening with desire and anticipation.

I kneel between her outstretched legs and guide my prick into her body. I am aroused as much by the anticipation, as by the situation. It's the first time I've fucked another woman since getting together with Jenny and the thought of fucking another woman, fucking Gwenda adds urgency to passion as I ease myself into her. "Now! I am going to fuck Gwenda now! She wants me. She is demanding me, now!"

As I enter her, she feels so hot and tight. She brings her legs over my back and I'm trapped inside her. I know there will be no escape before she releases me and no release before she orgasms.

I move. She moves. We both move; hips in perfect sequence, me driving my penis deep into her; her devouring my penis with her vulva.

The pace and tempo of the ballet quickens. We writhe and buck and squeeze and fuck! And come. Oh, how we come! Gwenda moans and squeals and gasps, her mouth locked onto my neck while I'm urging and driving all my sperm towards her!

Presently our mutual eruption subsides. We lay in each other's arms. She squeezes me. I twitch in return – and then slip out of her vagina.

"You know Joseph, there is a way for us girls to get our boys all nice and hard again."

"Is there?"

"As if you didn't know! And girls like their men to kiss and clean them and real men swallow! Have you got that?"

"Yes, M'am."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Ma'm."

We slip apart. My hand goes to remove the condom and I see the sheath has been ripped by my TMR. The ring has split the condom in two. I have just pumped Gwenda full of sperm. Right up into her cervix!

Gwenda sees it and gasps. "Oh! So that's why you felt so hot?"

"Gwenda, I am so terribly sorry..."

But Gwenda looks up at me - and just smiles; she smiles slyly back at me. "Well Joseph, from now on we just might as well fuck properly. Bareback. We can't make it any worse."

"What? How do you mean?" Now I'm feeling dim as well as incompetent.

"Because today is the day I ovulated! I have made a man of you Joseph McEwan. You have just made a black girl pregnant!"

I don't know what to do or say. For a moment – a long breathtaking moment – I kneel there, appalled at what Gwenda has said and the way she has said it. She seems to have no regrets, there are no recriminations about carelessness on my part; she's just accepting it, even revelling in the idea.

She smiles, "Well?"

"I ... I don't know what to do. Sorry..."

"I know what you should do."

"You do?"

"Yes, I do. Look Joseph: I am dripping. I can feel it."

I glance down. A little rivulet of pearly sperm, bright against her dark skin, is snaking out from her vagina, about to make its way across her perineum towards her anus... "What you do is you put your tongue on me, you get your mouth down onto me and you clean me up. Do it now. You might even get a reward."

She speaks softly and it seems impossible not to acquiesce. The issue of whether or not she is pregnant doesn't seem to matter. I bend my lips to her. My tongue extends. What will this taste like? I have never done this before, ever. Never quite like this. I touch. My tongue catches the head of the little stream and sweeps it up, driving it back towards her glistening vagina.

Gwenda lets out a low growl of satisfaction.

"Now swallow! If I am going to have your sperm in me, you are going to have your sperm in you. You are going to taste it."

I swallow, unsure at the yeasty metallic taste of my own sperm mixed with the taste of Gwenda. My nose is right down by her vulva. Her perfume fills my head again. As I lick, I start to get hard again. I lick and Gwenda purrs: labia, clit, vagina, labia.

"Turn around. I want to be licked from the top down!"

I turn and kneel over her, as instructed. This way, it's easier for me to put my whole mouth over her. Suddenly her arm snakes across my back, pulling me down towards her. Her tongue runs up the underside of my prick. Soft. Broad. Its firm tip catches me just under the head and wriggles side to side. I stop cleaning Gwenda and gasp with surprise. She keeps on. I can now feel her lips on my cockhead, sucking gently. Then she swirls the rough dorsum of her tongue across the underside of my penis head, and then she begins to rub her teeth over the coronal ridge.

It's the most erotic moment I can remember. I reapply myself to her vulva. I am being driven wild with fresh desire and somehow the desire is fuelled with the knowledge of her acute fertility. It is petrol poured on flames.

"Gwenda?"

"Hmmmm?"