Chapter 7
NOW THAT THERE WAS NO URGENT NEED for money, John was able to face the world more confidently. The steady grind at the office when he had forced himself to work was over and already a dull memory. Connie had been fine for that world, fine as a companion during all that time, but now that June was here things were different. Already June had become the full present and Connie was becoming part of the distant past.
He had always known that Connie was a partner, a sleeping one perhaps, and this somehow seemed to mark the end of the line. Money had lost its meaning, now that he had it. Whatever Connie managed to make from Clem she could keep for herself. Stretching, he pushed the bedclothes down and looked at her.
Naked, with legs drawn up to her chin, she sighed and moved closer to him. Putting his arms around her and cradling her, he felt strangely protective, half wishing he could leap out of bed and defend her. She was warm and soft with an expression of almost childlike innocence on her face. Tenderly he touched her cheek, gently stroking it, feeling its soft warmth at his fingertips, careful not to touch her eyes with their long black lashes.
He pulled her closer, feeling her hot breath on his chest, stroking her shining hair, freezing when he heard her sleepily catch her breath and then relaxing when she snuggled closer. His lips moved to her brown shoulder, hardly touching the fine white line where the shoulder straps of her bathing suit had shielded it from the sun.
It was some time before she woke up. Aware that he was looking at her, she smiled and touched the stubble on his chin, her still-sleepy eyes half-closed.
"What time is it, John?"
"About ten o'clock, I should think."
His hand groped behind him and found the watch: it was time they had some breakfast. Slowly, prolonging the performance as much as possible, he got out of bed.
Running the bath, he pottered about preparing breakfast, putting the coffee on a low gas ready for them to drink when they finished bathing.
All marks of the tie on her swaying breasts had disappeared overnight and it was a flawless June who padded into the bathroom.
"Who's first?" she asked sleepily.
"Us!" he replied, grinning.
Somehow they crammed themselves into it and lay there silent for a moment, gently swishing the water over their relaxing bodies. Her widely separated breasts jiggled as she sat up and reached for the soap and began washing them. Taut and shining in her soap wet hands they seemed almost alive as she rubbed energetically beneath them.
"This is the first time this has ever happened to me," she said more brightly as her sleepiness began to fade. "I don't let Clem anywhere near me before lunchtime usually."
"Sometimes I feel sorry for Clem, he seems to lead a dog's life."
"He doesn't at all," she replied defensively. "At least he's never complained."
Easing himself forward slightly, he grinned at her and pushed his foot between her thighs. His toes touched the hair between them and then found the slightly moist entrance to her vulva.
"I shouldn't let you near me either!" she said mock seriously.
"Oh, but you would never know what clever toes I've got, if you didn't," he answered, pushing slightly until the lips parted.
"You ... I can't stop myself when you're near me."
Her eyes grew bright and a little wave of water splashed onto the floor as she opened her legs further.
"Can't you wait a little longer?" she asked quietly.
"It could be arranged," he answered slowly, "provided madame has something in mind for later on."
"Madame has, madame would like to swim today. There's a swimming pool at the back, you know."
The urgency of sex had left them now and they dried each other in front of the bedroom fire, water forming little pools around their feet. She laughed when he hesitated, the towel between her legs.
"Go on, it won't bite."
"I'm not so sure. It's got the quality of attraction- and that's deadly!"
Carefully he dried her, the very act of doing so making her seem even closer.
For some time now he had been meaning to ask her about the leather drawers she wore, and now he saw her holding them, he asked her.
"Charles made me," she replied, coloring. "Somehow I don't seem to have lost the habit. They make me feel more personal ... more ... intimate."
"The same boy who got you on the rubber kick?"
"Yes, that's the one," she answered, as they walked over to her dressing table.
Opening a drawer she bent down and began rummaging amongst the neatly-folded clothes. With trembling hands she slowly brought out a medium-sized box. It was oblong. Untying the string she emptied the contents on the bed.
"What is it?" he asked tersely.
She didn't answer for a moment. He couldn't see her face, her naked back was turned toward him and her falling hair obscured the rest.
"A pair of pants," she shivered and straightened, "and a bra. Yes of rubber."
Almost languidly she turned to him, a far away look in her eyes. Eyes closed now, her breasts swaying and her whole body shaken by uncontrollable tremors, she was so obviously a rubber addict, and he was momentarily taken aback.
Seizing her wrist, her forced her hand open until she dropped the pants and dragged the bra away from her nose.
"Why?" she whimpered.
"Because it's breakfast time," he answered as gaily as he could. "Have breakfast first and play afterward."
"Breakfast first," she said slowly.
She appeared to have forgotten about the rubber when they had finished breakfast and she sat quietly, sipping her coffee and smoking her first cigarette of the day.
He could hardly believe that everything had happened so simply, it didn't seem right somehow. There was a nagging suspicion in the back of his mind that either Clem or Connie would cause serious trouble when they returned. He stood up and began clearing the breakfast things away, making a deliberate effort to forget it, shutting off all thoughts of them. This was to be June's day.
In the bedroom he picked up the rubber swim suit. He decided it was one even though it might have a secondary purpose.
Shucking the dressing gown off and standing naked in front of him she picked up the pants. Her hands trembled and she shook them to hide it before spreading the leg openings wide.
Wriggling her hips and leaning forward so that her breasts swayed, she managed to get them up to her crotch before stopping for breath.
"The sensations," she gasped, "They're stronger now."
"Do you like?" she asked nervously.
He nodded and watched intently as she turned around again.
Picking up the bra she leaned toward him until her almost pendulous swaying breasts were above him. Holding one of the cups open over her palm she raised it until the nipple was directly inside, and then with a quick jerk with two hands drew it on. The rubber stretched dangerously as she stood upright, holding her breast up.
She maneuvered the other cup until the tip of her breast was safely inside it. Catching hold of the free strap he drew them both together as with both hands around one breast she guided and helped it into the stretching cup. The other one was easy and in no time he had joined the straps together with the press stud.
"They stick out so far," she said, walking to the mirror.
He remained silent, too awe-struck for words.
Radiant, with a carefree swing of her hips, she looked beautiful, as though the rubber was a natural catalyst to her beauty.
"Swim, sir?"
The blue water in the oval pool shimmered in the sun, almost dazzling them as they stood at the edge. Suddenly he felt himself falling, the water rising up to meet him, and sensed rather than saw her laughing at him. When she reached him a broad smile on her face he could see the rubber shining beneath the surface.
"I want you," she said softly, as they bobbed up and down.
"My little rubber covered dove," he said, smiling at the unconscious alliteration and unlikely image.
"I'm dry inside them, you know," she said as they climbed out and began toweling themselves.
They were dry within a minute and he lay warmly next to her, idly playing with the elastic waistband of her panties.
Suddenly she convulsed-her hips arched off the ground and her legs spread as far apart as they could.
"God Almighty! It is so powerful?" he asked unbelievingly.
She didn't answer for a moment, but slowly relaxed, her smoky eyes half-closed and a tremulous smile on her lips.
"I'm sorry, John," she said weakly, "but honestly, I couldn't help it."
Still amazed, he pulled her close to him and put his arm around her shoulders. It had all happened so quickly-one moment she was calm, and the next, whoof!
His lust grew and he threw himself over her, pinning her beneath him, his hand searching her crotch. He found it and she moaned, her teeth bared and her head thrown back. It was hard and unyielding-not even the faintest twitch coming through as he pressed more firmly.
"Oh, God ... I'm coming again!"
She began babbling, biting his shoulder and threshing her legs about and yet even now he couldn't feel anything through the rubber. The spasm didn't last long and she was fairly quickly normal again.
"I believe," she answered slowly, "they call it bondage. Charles used to talk about bondage quite frequently you know."
"This doesn't strike me as being . . . bondage, though."
"Try and pull them off," she said challengingly.
Gripping the straps he pulled gently, not wanting to hurt her; they didn't budge. Surprised that they didn't give at all, he pulled more firmly until her breasts stretched out horizontally in front of her.
"Pull!" she shouted.
"I don't want to hurt you," he said as calmly as he could. Seizing the straps from him in a frenzy, she heaved and strained-there was a faint sucking sound and then a whooshing noise as she managed to wrench it off.
"My God," he said feelingly.
The swollen breasts, red and obviously tender, swayed as she dropped the rubber to the ground.
"That is the result of discomfort," she said calmly. "But sometimes I feel I deserve to suffer for my pleasure."
"Don't do it too often, eh?" "I promise."
His hand prompted by the desire that welled up in him again sought out her crotch. She trembled to control the orgasm that rose at the pressure of his fingers.
"I can't stop ... I'm coming ... John ... oh, God! I'm pissing on myself, John, I can't help it!"
Her voice trailed away. The swelling grew as her bladder emptied itself into the rubber drawers. Sitting up and making the whole mass bulge until it looked like a colossal codpiece, she looked at him with surprisingly clear eyes.
"I won't be able to come any more now that I've ... urinated," she said quietly.
It struck him as odd that she should hesitate over certain words when she used them with such abandon when she was fully aroused. His penis wetted again as he thought of the more practical aspects of her predicament.
"It's not everybody who can boast of pissing on themselves with such safety," he said gaily. "Most would merely be wet."
"It's so obscene, though," she said giggling and looking down at the enormous bulge.