Chapter 3
Both he and Connie were glad to get away from Kensington for a while. She was beginning to be affected by his depression, and there had been one or two bitter little quarrels over trivial matters, which although they blew over quickly enough, left him more despondent than before. The weather hadn't helped and every day he had to drive the few miles to the office in pouring rain, only the thought of going to Clem's prevented him from doing something rash. Clem hadn't replied to his letter, and he felt elated as he backed the car out of the garage, knowing that he was anxious that they should come. He opened the door for her as he got out of the gates, and she got in, smiling.
"It's such a pity we've been quarreling, John. It should be better now that we're going."
"It's stopped raining, that's one good thing."
"And you don't have to be in that miserable office again until Monday."
"Push that button down, darling. I don't want you to fall out."
"Mine, or this one on the door?"
Calculating that it would take him about two hours to reach Hoolton, with a bit to spare, he drove fairly slowly, not anxious to hurry. Somehow he felt in a holiday mood, and the sun breaking through gray clouds, accentuated it. She smiled at him, sensing him relax, and touching his hand quickly as he changed gear.
"The old simonized sprinter will have to go soon. It's getting worn out." He mentally patted the car, wondering what sort he should ask Clem for. A Facel Vega, perhaps?
"Do you really think Clem means it when he says he'll give you a new one?"
"Of course. He's got such a thing about your bust ... he'd give us the earth."
"It's a bit different doing this in cold blood, than meeting him at a rave, darling."
"Oh, I don't know. I should think he'll make us pretty well at ease. He's got a fabulous house, a wine cellar that's filled to overflowing ... everything."
"Couldn't we have the money instead of a car?"
"We could, but with a car we have transport in case things get difficult. We could probably have money as well, though," he added.
"How far does he want to go?"
"I don't know, darling. He just wants to fuck you and play around with your breasts a little, I should imagine."
"I don't mind him sucking them, but if he wants to tattoo them or anything monstrous like that, you'll look after me, won't you?"
"Of course." He grinned at her quickly, reassuring her. He must keep an eye on Clem. People like him were shrewd and he probably thought now that he'd have a slim chance of keeping her for good once he had got her down there.
"What's June like?"
"His wife?"
"Yes."
The question interrupted his thoughs and he had to think for a moment before he could answer.
"She's a little bit Lesbian; she'll love you. About five feet four inches, dark, very good looking, very sexy, very intelligent, and very large breasts, because Clem likes women with very large breasts."
"As big as mine?" she asked anxiously.
"Yes, but the thing with June is she's smaller than you, so they seem bigger if that be possible."
"Nice shape?"
"Rather long. Elongated, but round like yours. She's got very long dark nipples. She's a sort of mammary wonder, mamose to the point of disbelief. Yours are high and firm, while hers are terribly long. Great long swaying things, firm, mind you, but like long overgrown peas."
"You say all this with a certain gusto in your voice! Hope she is not my rival for your affection," she said affectionately, her mouth severe but her eyes shining.
"No one could do that, gorgeous."
"I'm the finest grind in London. You told me so."
"I did."
"And I'm the finest plater." "Yes."
"And the finest wanker."
"You are!"
"An expert with the vibro." "Oh, you are! You are!" "Then I have no need to worry." "You have not."
They had reached the country now, leaving the dull town behind them, their mood changing as if to welcome the sun. As always when she rode in the car, she pulled her dress up to her waist, relaxing and letting her legs fall slightly apart. He steered with one hand, the other lightly between her warm soft thighs, feeling the contrast between nylon and her skin.
They always seemed large and white, but now more than ever so. Those were the two words he associated with them, "The large white thigh bulging slightly above the encircling black stocking!"
She loved to do this, to let her legs fall slightly apart, to let people see them in a quick flash as they sped past. She never really knew the sensation she caused; never really was conscious of men's glances when they saw both her incredible breasts and her shapely thighs.
"I feel like fingering myself a little."
He knew that was coming. There had hardly been a journey in the car when she hadn't ended up by masturbating herself. There was something about the movement, the motion of it, that made her want to. On a bus she always wanted to, but never could.
Looking down quickly he saw her pull the crotch-piece of her panties to one side exposing the prominent bushy mount. The lips glistened slightly in the sun, showing that she'd been wanting to for some time.
Stretching her thighs further apart and sliding forward until her neck rested against the back of the low seat, she wet her finger and gently pushed it in.
"It's mushy!"
"And we were nearly mush, too," he said loudly as they were narrowly overtaken by a large green car. "We didn't give him much room."
"Mushy ... ooh! I like to do it gently ... very gently. Just touch the little lips gently so that I have to strain up to it to feel more. Ooh, gently Connie."
"You've got about half an hour, Connie." He'd grown used to her masturbating like this. Although it was a shock when he first saw her do it. She'd done it secretly for the first time with another girl in the back seat of a bus after a school trip, and had never forgotten it.
How old would she be then? Twelve? They passed through a small village. A yokel hardly believing his eyes when he saw Connie's hips raised to window level.
"I like whirling it around gently. That's half the fun of doing it this way. Now quickly, two fingers deep in my hole. Oh, God! I feel I could half sit on them and fuck myself with them. Did you notice me fucking my anus with two fingers last night? No don't answer ... just let me think about it. Two fingers in my anus. My anus. My shitbox. My little brown hole. Two fingers in my little brown hole."
He glanced at her for a moment, surprised to see that her head was back against the seat, her eyes closed. She had slid even further forward and her thighs were as far apart as they could go without interfering with the gear lever. The black pubic hair that thickly covered her mound was flattened, pressed into tight ringlets by the pressure of her gently moving hand. They moved slightly quicker as she thought of something else, a contented smile on her lips.
"And then when I took them out you fucked me, you backscuttled me, you bottled me, you plugged my arsehole with your huge dick. Easy, Connie. How often I've said that. I'm hardly touching my cunt now, John, but my clitoris seems to be twitching ... ooh! I'm all open. Why do I have such a big clitoris that torments me like this one does?"
"You play with it too much," he said drily.
"Yes, I do. I want myself too much. I rub my clitoris too much. I work myself off whenever you're near me like I'm doing now."
It was impossible to say anything now. No amount of amusing talk or distractions would stop her. She'd just have to go on and on until she came. He felt the rigid length of his penis press against his stomach, but told himself he'd need it for tonight. His watch said twenty to seven. They were nearly there, perhaps a little early. She was still muttering, her head thrown back, her eyes closed and a look of tense ecstasy on her face. "It's raining softly in my cunt here, softly on it."
He slowed down at the traffic lights, and looked around him for a sign-post, trying to ignore Connie, who was now utterly absorbed in the pleasure she was giving herself. Not seeing one, he knew he'd have to go into the village center, where there would be people walking, people in cars, people in shop windows, people who could and would see her if she didn't finish now.
"Connie! I've got to go into the village. Come now, for God's sake, I don't want people looking at you."
She was panting, her eyes open, with a fixed, glazed look in them, unseeing. Cursing himself for letting her start, he caught hold of her bare arm and tried to drag it away.
"Don't, John, I can't stop now, it's too good to stop." "The fucking lights have changed!" he shouted at her, as he tried to pull her hand away again.
"Oh, my God! They're red again!"
A large black car drew up next to them. A man and a woman were in the front seat. He leaned over the steering wheel trying to obscure Connie's protracted manipulations, returning the woman's smile with apparent enthusiasm. She wound her window down and with a flashing of false teeth, looked behind' him. Leaning backward he forestalled her and pointed to the changing light. Clutching her husband's hand to prevent him from putting it into first gear and a look of concern coming into her eyes, she leaned out further and said, "I say there, is your passenger ill?"
"No, madame, she always rides this way. She gets ... "
"But she's ... Oh, Charles, drive on! Drive on! She ... "
"I don't care what she's doing," her husband's voice boomed back. "The lights are red and I'm not driving on."
"But you must. I'm going to faint. She's masturbating!"
"The lights are green now, sir," John leaned forward. "And your wife looks positively overcome with excitement."
"With excitement, yes," he replied eagerly, half-raising himself to see more of Connie. "What a way to travel, though! No we can't go yet, Prudence. I can't get the bloody thing in gear!"
"Never mind that, drive on!"
"The lights have changed again, I can't."
A long line of cars, all on their way to the coast, began hooting in despair as they changed for the third time. John began to laugh, deep spasms of helpless and uncontrollable laughter as Charles, in a frenzy of excitement, forced, and finally crashed the obstinate lever into gear.
"What a way to travel," he said again, admiringly.
His wife gave a despairing scream and urged him on, helping him by hitting him with her shoe. The engine revved, screaming with unreleased power as unmindful of his wife he strained upward to see more, his foot flat down on the accelerator. A particularly well-aimed blow from her and his foot had slipped from the clutch, the car shooting away half out of control, the rear wheels spinning and throwing up clouds of dust. Helpless, his eyes half closed, John had a quick glimpse of his face purpling and his wife's sudden collapse with terror as they rocketed forward. The lights were red.
Almost languidly, Connie turned her head toward him, an expression of unutterable pleasure on her face. "John, darling, I think I'm beginning to come."
It was impossible to ignore Connie. No matter what he was doing before long he would be as deeply involved in whatever was happening too her as she wanted him to be. He shook his head, half bewildered by her singleness of purpose, as they drove off.
Looking for a sign-post, he spotted a policeman and drove toward him, realizing when he was practically level with him, that she was in no state to meet a representative of the law. Flattening his foot on the accelerator, he shot off down the road, narrowly avoiding a dog and cursing too himself for encouraging Connie. At a traffic circle he saw a sign to Hoolton and skidded around it almost broadside on. "John, don't make it sway like that. I was almost coming then, but my ... my attention was diverted."
"So was mine," he replied, feelingly, as he slowed down. "I think you'd better come now, we're nearly there.
"Looking down at her, when he'd switched the engine off, he couldn't help feeling a spasm of desire, even after the ridiculous traffic episode. She wouldn't stop even if a fifty-ton tank was rolling toward her, he thought admiringly.
"I can't come, John."
"Of course you can."
"Tell me I can. Tell me I'm going to come." "Touch it lightly. Not too hard or you'll never come."
"Oh, yes! I love to hear you tell me what to do. You make me come then."
"I want to watch you. Swing your legs a little more toward me, but don't stop moving your fingers."
"Lightly. Is that better? Can you see it now?"
"Yes," he breathed, feeling his penis erecting again. Her slim fingers circled the budding clitoris, hardly touching it, drawing out delicate sensations that would culminate in an orgasm. Spreading her legs wider, her muscles swelling with the strain, she brought her other hand to her vulva and gently separated the swollen lips, sighing with pleasure as she did so. It gaped, showing the tensely erect clitoris under her wet finger and the blood-congested, glistening surfaces of the little lips.
"My finger's aching. I've been at it for so long I can hardly move it."
"I'm not going too do it for you."
"No, no. I don't mean that. I don't mind it aching. I just thought I'd like to use the hairpin." "
"Oh, Connie! Leave any refinements for afterward."
"I feel like it, though. Still, if you really think I can do it when we get there, I'll forget it. Oh, God! It feels so open! I love taking my time about it, feeling it rise up until I feel I can hardly stop."
Her eyes closed and her hand stopped moving, as she fought to control herself. Trembling, she relaxed and smiled at him, her fingers slowly moving again.
His penis twitched again, throbbing with lust, and he had to fight the temptation to wind her thick hair around his hand and pull her head down to it. He knew Clem well enough to know that any party he gave went on for days, and he'd need every drop of semen for it.
"Across, lightly, and then my fingers against each side of it ... rubbing up and down."
It peeped slyly between her fingers for a moment, and then was obscured by the passionate downward pressure of them only to spring up again as they separate slightly and returned. Her eyes narrowed and her nostrils swelled with excitement as a peculiarly intense spasm of pleasure swept through her.
"Hurry up, Connie, please. I don't want to come now. I can't keep on coming and coming like you, you know. I've got to save it."
"Why does it always get better? Every time I come it seems better than ever before."
The speed of her hand matched the excitement in her voice, and she was no longer sliding her fingers on either side of her clitoris but was rubbing the ball of her index finger wetly across it.
"I know you want to come, Connie. You can't stop it now, can you?" he said hopefully, trying to communicate the sense of urgency that he felt. Her hand increased its movements, the long white fingers almost a blur across her open slit. A narrow rivulet of clear mucous pooled in the crinkled opening of her twitching anus.
"Oh, fuck! It's so good! You watching me while I wank myself. Tell me you like watching me, John!"
"I love it. I love watching your fingers sliding in and out of your cunt like that," he replied with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. "It's great."
"You started it. You've made me start coming. It's like a big warm fire in my cunt."
Her hips bucking, her buttocks raised above the seat, she began to come, a stream of obscenities forced out of her by the sheer pleasure.
"It's swelling higher. It's all so wet. It's like spunk! Oh, fuck! I can't stop now. I can't control it any more. John, I can't!"
For a dangerous moment he lifted his hand to her hair to pull her down to his crotch, and then with a conscious effort of will resisted it, suffering almost as much as she was enjoying herself. Open-mouthed, her large thighs opened to their limit and her voice nearly inarticulate. She was coming.
"My clitoris is twitching. Oh, fuck! It's here! It's here now ... I can't stop any more ... I'm coming! It's the juice ... I'm coming! Oh! it's killing me! I'm coming! I'm coming! I'm ... coming ... coming. I'm exploding ... "
Her hand and fingers hardly moving in her vulva, and her hips and thighs rigid with pleasure, she felt the nerve-tearing sensation sweep over and engulf her in hot waves of solitary ecstasy, carry her along in its warm flow, and finally deposit her slowly and tenderly, content and relaxed. Leaning over, he put his hand on her forehead, sensing her relax, a new tenderness coming over him. "Better now?"
"Mmm," she murmured contentedly. "It was nice," Anxious not to spoil her semi-drowsy state, he pulled down her dress and lit a cigarette for her, before he started the engine. He looked at his watch. It was late and he always liked to be on time if he could. A small thing like that helped to create an impression of reliability, even if subsequent events disproved it.
Pulling out her powder compact and smiling half slyly at him, she started to repair the damage. Her hands shook slightly and her breath still came a little shortly as she talked.
"I am being perfectly serious when I say I never regret learning how to masturbate. There's nothing, no physical pleasure greater than an orgasm-even if I did produce it myself," she added mischievously.
"You do try and gild refined gold sometimes, though, don't you, dear!"
"Only because you won't try. Yes, I'm ready. It's all clean behind."
Chuckling to himself he reversed out of the narrow lane and swung the wheel expertly with a rigid index finger.
"Anybody who saw you do that would think you were as strong as an ox. They wouldn't know the steering's so loose a child could do it," she said laughing at him. "I know. I've done it myself."
"I don't think I'd better do it any more then. You'll think I'm showing off. We've got five miles to go and we're late already," he replied laughing.
The journey didn't take as long as he expected, and Connie had completely regained her composure by the time they reached the long red gravel drive up to the house.
"There's no need to be nervous," he said, comfortingly as he noticed her twisting her gloves around her fingers.
"I can't help it, John. I don't know what to expect." "Expect nothing then. And you won't be disappointed, will you, Connie? It's nothing to worry about."
They could see the house now, at the far end of the drive.
"The window with the light on is the dining room, and those curtains blowing out of that open window are from June's bedroom," he said. "Just remember, before we get out, that both Clem and June are as gone as anybody you've ever met, and you won't go wrong."
She smiled at him, a faintly, scared look in her eyes. "I know you'll look after me,"
"It's me I worry about," he replied. "I get so carried away that I'm quite likely to turn green."
The car stopped and he pulled on the brake and switched the ignition off.
"You didn't forget the cases, did you, John?"
"No, they're in the trunk. I put them in while you were having a bath. Ready?"
"Yes, sir. Quite ready!"
It was cooler now outside-a pleasant summer evening. He was glad to get out of the car. Connie smoothed her dress down over her hips and took a quick look in her hand-mirror before she walked up to the front door with him. Winking at her, he reached up and pressed the bell, hearing it ring deep inside.
"It's a lovely house," she said, looking up at the gray stone porch. "I wish we had one like it."
"We may yet. A lot depends on what happens tonight and tomorrow."
"I suppose so," she replied doubtfully.
They both heard the rapid clicking of high heels on the corridor inside at the same time, and stood waiting quietly. The door opened slowly and June, a welcoming smile on her face, asked them in.
"We thought you'd got lost or something. Do take your coats off. I'm glad you could come, though."
"It took us rather longer than we expected, actually. You haven't met Connie, have you, June?"
The two women smiled and shook hands. Taking Connie's coat, he hung it up and looked quickly at
June. She hadn't changed at all as far as he could see. She had the same stupendous figure and the same easy smile that he remembered so well. She was wearing seamless stockings and a skin-tight, rather curiously cut black leather dress. It had a deep slit up the side of her leg to the thigh and was cut low enough to expose the top of her creamy white breasts. Walking between them he looked down at her waist hardly daring to believe the sheer size of them compared to her tiny waist. He put an arm around them both, feeling the hard, unyielding corset she was wearing beneath the soft supple leather. She liked the feeling of constriction and if he remembered clearly, it was something she had learned from Clem. Connie pressed his arm, seeking reassurance as they walked into the drawing room.
"You're here at last. Come in, come in." Clem, beaming all over his face, stood up, flung the magazine he'd been reading on to a table, and shook them by the hand.
"I'm so glad you could come, both of you. Have a good journey?"
"John told June that it took rather longer than we expected. Actually it was our own fault; we didn't give ourselves time," Connie replied.
"Never mind. Do sit down. I'll get you a drink. Scotch for you John, I know; and Connie?"
"The same, please, Clem."
They watched him as he poured the drinks, a quick glance from John reassuring her. Clem was getting a little fat, but it seemed to suit him; made him seem less angular and the bronzed face, with the white regular teeth, was softening, losing some of the hardness that he'd had before he met June. He came back carrying a tray with the drinks carefully placed on it.
A pleased smile was on his face.
"I'm so glad you could come," he said, as they took their drinks. "I've been looking forward to your coming for some time. So has June, haven't you, dear?"
"Certainly," she replied, as she sipped her drink. "I've heard so much about Connie that I was as anxious as Clem to have you down here.
"You seem to be in demand," John said, meaningly to her.
Taking a deep swallow of her Scotch, Connie reddened slightly, but said nothing, and lit the cigarette Clem offered her. Through the flame John watched June as she lightly swung one casually crossed leg over the other. The tight leather had ridden above her rounded knees and her firm calves were broadening and relaxing with the swinging motion. Her waist seemed ridiculously small compared to her heavy leather-covered breasts, and her milk-white arms almost fragile. Aware of his interested look, she narrowed her eyes at him, a hint of excitement in the depth of them...almost a promise. Clem was talking to Connie about the party where she'd first met John, and how much he'd wanted to meet her. Still swinging her shapely legs, June looked at her-a look of unconcealed interest in her eyes. She leaned forward to John, exposing more of her breasts and the tight division between them.
"Where did you meet her, John?"
"At a party."
"Oh yes, I remember now. With a figure like that I can't imagine why I haven't seen her before, it's incredible."
"I don't notice it so much now. I did at first, mind you."
Still slightly unsure of himself, and of how to treat
June, he waited, prepared to let her make the suggestions and observations.
"It's incredible, she breathed.
Standing up, she walked over to the cocktail cabinet taking both their glasses with her. June was one of those women who exuded sex. The exaggerated roll of her hips as she walked and the unselfconscious thrust of her enormous breasts was the outward manifestation of a nature as sensual as his own. The tight leather stretched over her round buttocks shone as the light from the chandelier caught it, and the exaggeratedly high heels gave her broad thighs a particularly exciting forward thrust as she stood still. His hand shook as he drew on his cigarette and he looked quickly at Connie to see if she had noticed. She had, and a broad smile spread over her face as she looked at him.
"June seems to be unsettling him," she said to Clem, "his hands are shaking."
"Mine are, too," making it sound as if he were trying to defend him, and putting his own in his pockets.
"Am I really?" asked Connie, as she brought the drinks back.
"Naturally."
"Fabulous! It interests me, this sudden excitement." She said this quietly and looked straight into his eyes.
"How big is her bust?"
"When we had the leather dress made, one a bit like yours, it was forty-one and a half."
"Not as big as mine, though, is it?" she asked drawing closer to him, her perfume reaching him.
"Not quite. How big is yours?"
"Forty-three, but then I always was big. Even as a schoolgirl mine were big. I had a very small back and they used to hurt like hell when I played netball. They were only about thirty-six, then, though. I'd be about fourteen. Mind you, there was one girl about my age who was bigger, but she was plumper. She and I had a tremendous crush, a really big thing about each other."
He was content to let her ramble on. The more he could learn about her the more use it would be later on. She'd obviously been drinking before they arrived and the alcohol had brought a faint glow to her flawless skin. He glanced at Clem, who was obviously stimulated by Connie's conversation. Quite suddenly he felt relaxed, and began to enjoy himself. There seemed nothing against it, and both Clem and June were anxious that they should enjoy themselves. Having convinced himself on that score he began rolling the conversational ball back to June, while she told him a little more about her school days. He watched the casual way in which she curled her legs up underneath her, showing more than a glimpse of thigh above her stockings, wondering why he had never taken very much interest in her before this. Her eyes were almost almond shaped and very dark brown, with long lashes that were unusually long. They narrowed when she smiled and faint crows feet appeared at the corners. Her long well-kept hands rolled the crystal glass, the ice clunking in it, and a large square-cut diamond sparkled on her finger. It could be worth well over a thousand, he thought. Perhaps a little more. Glancing around him, he tried to gauge how rich Clem was just from the furnishings. They gave little indication, but then he hadn't been over the whole house. There might be a gallery of some sort, it was certainly big enough to hold one, and Clem rich enough to keep it. There's only that Adam fireplace over there that's anything at all, he thought again, and then realized that June was still talking.
"Of course we'll have dinner first, and the Clem can show us some of the films he got. Some of them you might find interesting."
"Yes, I remember Clem saying that he had a film collection. I'm very interested to see them as he's got some that haven't been seen in this country."
"What's that you're saying, John?"
"We were talking about films, Clem. Apparently we're going to see some after dinner."
"Yes, sir! I've got a new one from Italy. There's some very good shots of an unusually interesting Neopolitan girl."
"I liked that one myself," June added. "She's really got something."
"Dinner first, though. If you'll press that bell behind you, John, it will give Alice the signal to start bringing it in."
They stood up, all sensing the excitement that each other felt at the thought of an evening such as this. John looked at Connie's face. There was one thing for sure-there would be no one who would try and spoil it.