Chapter 7
Matt returned unexpectedly on the Saturday night, and almost caught Rita in bed with Caufield. He moved into the apartment and devoted all his free time to Rita. He was sympathetic about her failure to get a break in show business, and said he couldn't understand it. He hadn't intended for her to wind up as a stripper when he sent her to Caufield. But there was no necessity for her to stay in a dump like the Starlite, or to work at all. He would look after her and support her. He no longer cared if his wife found out about Rita. It might even persuade her to sue for divorce.
He took Rita to expensive restaurants, to the theater. Whenever the lousy English weather permitted they spent weekends on his power boat moored on the Norfolk Broads. They went everywhere together. Rita was seldom bored, and she genuinely liked Matt. He was attentive, a considerate lover, and generous with money.
He came to Rita one morning soon after she got out of bed. She slept late, for it was usually around three in the morning before she got away from the club. She answered the door bleary-eyed and with her hair tousled, wondering irritably who the hell was thumbing the bell-push, and was surprised to see Matt. He had forgotten his key, he said. Why wasn't he at the office, Rita asked. Balls to the office, he told her excitedly. He looked strained but flushed. His wife had died, he blurted, suddenly and inexplicably, without apparent reason. They had found her slumped over the wheel of her car. No sign of any injury. No history of cardiac disorder.
Matt was no hypocrite. He was glad the bitch was dead, he said. She had made his life a hell. He planned to have the body cremated. He stayed long enough to eat breakfast.
Rita didn't see him again until a few days after the funeral. He surprised her again then by asking her to go and live at his country house in Windsor. He didn't give a damn about what people thought or said, and to hell with Rita's job. He was leaving soon for another, more lengthy stay in New York, and wanted to spend as much time with Rita as possible. Sevenoaks, his place at Windsor, was more convenient in every way. While he was away she could stay there and be looked after. He would talk with Caufield.
Rita didn't argue. They left London that evening. Windsor was quiet and peaceful. It reminded Rita of Cork, in Ireland. At the big, sprawling house discreet servants attended to her every want. She settled in quickly, but couldn't overcome a feeling of strangeness. She met many of Matt's friends and business associates including the senior executive who handled the company's financial business in London. Mervyn Stone was older than Matt, but still vigorous and active, a rather stocky man, distinguished-looking, with iron-grey hair and a quick, flashing smile. Rita saw through the polished veneer to the opportunist and lecher underneath, but she liked Stone's pleasant manner.
Her sex life with Matt was adequately satisfying. He was a considerate lover, beginning awkwardly but becoming ferociously aroused at the first glimpse of nudity.
One Saturday night Rita was lying naked on the bed, reading, when Matt entered the bedroom from the adjoining bathroom. Rita set the magazine aside and sat up, smiling. Matt loosened the towel wrapped round his waist, tossed it to her, stood smirking while she dried his lean body. She wiped the crease of his buttocks, and he parted his legs to let her towel his genitals. The moment she touched his penis it lifted, swelling rapidly. Rita dropped the towel. She held his prick, pushed the foreskin back, leaned over and kissed the smooth knob, then took his sweet-smelling roll into her mouth, knowing his lewd preference. But she wanted it inside her and stubbornly rejected it before his excitement reached the point of no return.
She lay back and separated her thighs, drew her knees up and fully exposed her eager cunt, holding the slit open. Matt's erection was enormous. He inserted the distraught head and lunged immediately, falling forward on top of her the instant his cock was engulfed. Rita moaned with pleasure and contracted her passage, wondering vaguely why Matt hadn't indulged his usual practice of fondling her tits and kissing between her legs before mounting her. He was more impatient than she had ever known him, not that she was complaining.
He penetrated easily, crushing her heaving breasts against his chest, and was lost in the wet chasm of her enraptured split. Rita raised her legs higher, let them hang over his shoulders and abandoned her jerking body to shivering ecstasy. Already, Matt was coming, uttering harsh croaking sounds, thrashing his prick into her with exceptional vigor, his head jolting from side to side, mouth gaping loosely. She received the hot flood of his sperm before the simmering turmoil in her responsive quim came fully to the boil; she writhed in frustration, trying to prolong the act, but Matt pulled out.
He lay staring at the ceiling, seemingly preoccupied. Gradually, Rita ferreted out the reason. A crisis had arisen connected with the Frankfurt branch of the business. Matt had to attend a vitally important conference in Geneva.
"When?" Rita wanted to know.
"I have to be in Geneva on Wednesday. God knows how long I'll be gone. Meanwhile I'd like you to stay here."
Rita told him she'd rather go back to London. Windsor was too quiet.
"And do what?" Matt demanded. "Not that bloody strip club again?"
Rita shrugged. Why not, she argued? She got bored just sitting around. She felt lost in that great house, like a fish out of water. She was popular at the club. The atmosphere was lively. As always, she overruled Matt's arguments. The sooner he got back, the quicker they'd be together again, she pointed out. Meanwhile she might be missing out on some golden opportunity.
But after Matt had gone, she missed him. On the Thursday evening Mervyn Stone drove down from the city and, as usual, expected to stay overnight. He was particularly attentive to Rita. She had intended to return to London that night, but Mervyn had promised Matt he would take care of some property repairs and planned to stay over at Sevenoaks until the work was in hand. Rita decided to remain, and travel back with him on the Sunday.
She knew that Mervyn lusted after her. The symptoms were too obvious to be ignored. He had never pestered her, but she often caught him staring at her, and read the craving in his eyes.
Late Saturday she was in bed, reading. It was a sultry night, airless and humid, and she couldn't sleep. Her flesh was hot and clammy under the thin nightdress. The house was quiet. Apart from the chauffeur and his wife, who occupied a small apartment above the garage, Rita and Mervyn were alone in the vast place. It was the cook's night off. The other servants only came in during the day.
When an acrid reek of smoldering cloth infiltrated into the bedroom, Rita was puzzled, then apprehensive, and finally acutely alarmed when the odor became more pronounced. She went to the door, opened it, and discovered that the smell was much stronger in the corridor, pervading the whole house. A light was visible under the door of Mervyn Stone's room. Rita knocked. Mervyn opened up promptly. He was wearing an expensive bathrobe over peach colored pajamas.
"What's wrong?" he demanded. His nose twitched.
"I can smell smoke. I think something's burning, in the basement."
"A fire! My God! Yes, I can smell it. I'd best take a look."
He strode down the hall and descended the stairs. Rita waited anxiously, leaning on the balustrade. Mervyn returned leisurely. He was grinning.
"Nothing to worry about," he reported. "Somebody left some rags burning in the incinerator with the door wide open. The cellar is full of smoke. I opened the window, but I've bolted the connecting door so there's no fear of any prowler getting in." He studied her and frowned-she was trembling. "You look as if you could use a drink," Mervyn said. "I shouldn't have thought you were of a nervous disposition."
"I'm not. But I've always had a thing about fire."
Mervyn grasped her arm, steered her persuasively toward his room, pushed her inside, and closed the door. Smiling, he leaned against it. Rita turned, tripped over the rug, and would have fallen if he hadn't grabbed her. He supported her with a sinewy arm round her waist.
"You feel cold," he remarked. "Somehow that doesn't fit in with my conception of you."
"I'm not cold-blooded," Rita told him. "Just a little agitated."
Impulsively she grasped his left hand and pressed it to her ribs just below her breast.
"Feel how my heart's pounding," she invited.
"This place depresses me. And I've been dreading Matt going away again. We've had hardly any time together. I'm bored, and lonely. I shall be glad to get back to London."
"I know, my dear. But there's no need for you to be lonely."
Mervyn moved his hand up to the swelling ripeness of her tit and squeezed gently, then more firmly. Emboldened when Rita didn't object, he cupped the sumptuous oval and hefted its yielding rotundity. Rita giggled, swayed against him, tittered again when his hand slid inside the nightdress and grabbed soft flesh, teased the large nipple, and then, quite suddenly and audaciously, eased her left tit right out so that it hung ripe and heavy against his palm, flawless, the dark aureole accentuating the rich coloring of the protruding bud.
Rita sighed. Her nervousness vanished. She was in the mood for sex and needed the strength of a man's arms round her, the solace only a hard penis could bring. Mervyn sensed her willingness and mauled her breast fiercely, breathing hard when the elongating nipple jutted proudly and her white flesh quivered in his grasp. He pushed the nightdress off her shoulders and exposed her other breast, clutching its smooth perfection.
"You don't have to be lonely," he repeated. "I've wanted you since the first time Matt introduced us. You're gorgeous! Utterly wonderful! I'm crazy about you. God, Rita! You're not just an illusion any more, something I've been longing to touch but daren't hardly look at. I've been on fire for you all this time, but I never dared hope- Rita! You don't mind? No, by God! You want it too. You want it-"
He jerked her savagely closer, and she felt the surging lift of his restless penis through his pajamas. The robe hung open. He kissed her, his tongue instantly searching her mouth, flickering, probing awkwardly, impatiently demanding. He reached down and hauled the hem of her nightdress up, rucked the garment past her waist, slid both hands round to her buttocks and captured the ravishing cheeks, fiercely distorting her warm flesh, exploring the damp crease. Her belly moved against his in a provocative fucking motion, and she closed her teeth on his delving tongue, bit it gently, then sucked the curling tip.
Mervyn writhed. He twisted his mouth away from hers and traced moist kisses down her throat to the creamy curve of her breast, enclosed the pouting teat and sucked it, burying his face in vibrant tit and tugging at the swollen nipple until Rita voiced gasping protest. He was too rough, too impatient. His kneading fingers punished her arse, digging into the deep cleft and acutely stretching the dark skin linking anus and vagina, trapping stray pubic hairs painfully. When he finally raised his head his expression was strained, his face flushed.
"I'm burning up," he blurted. "I want to see you naked, to kiss you all over, especially your divine arse. God! The feel of it is driving me crazy! I've got a kink about bottoms, girly arses that is. I've longed to uncover yours since the first time I saw you, the way you walk "with your bottom joggling and heaving. I want to kiss every luscious inch before I thrash my prick between your legs. That's what you want, darling, isn't it? What we both want."
A hard finger found her arsehole and poked about until the digit was abruptly sucked into the brown pit. Mervyn shifted a hand to her crotch, parted the pubic growth and laid the full length of his middle finger along the split of her cunt. The crevice yielded softly, closed clamlike round his finger, and Rita bucked violently.
"Take my prick out," Mervyn urged hoarsely. "Get hold of it. Feel it bursting with vitality. It's big, darling. You like a big fat prick. You'll like mine. Take it out. Jesus! You've got a cunt like a bloody mare— I could lose my hand inside."
Rita pushed against him, wanting sex as much as he did, wanting to see just how big his penis was, to feel it expanding inside her. Mervyn was right. She did like a big prick, and she wanted his. She closed her thighs together, imprisoning his hand.
"You might lose your cock too," she told him impudently. "I want you to fuck me, Mervyn. But-is it fair to Matt?"
"Forget Matt. Think of this thing, bursting to get out. Matt's in Geneva. Probably shagging the arse off some young whore right now. Take hold of my prick, for Christ's sake!"
He tightened his clutch on her cunt, mouthed urgent appeals, becoming savage. Rita closed his mouth with hers, felt the heaving ridge of his penis through the thin pajamas. She slipped her hand inside the pajama pants, boldly grasped the fleshy coil, pulled it out, a lovely cock, rapidly bloating. Rita pushed her fingers right down to the pulsing roots of his coarse hair. The torrid branch beat against her forearm, and a surge of wanton excitement gripped Rita. The throbbing power of that rearing prick sent shivers of lewd anticipation through her.
She felt hot and sweaty, and momentarily relinquished her tense hold in order to remove her nightdress. Naked, smoky-eyed, she smirked into Mervyn's mottled face. His hand left her cunt and she promptly recaptured his cock. The sight and feel of it was like an aphrodisiac and brought the wetness of premature orgasm into her vulva and formed a tight knot of torrid desire.
Mervyn groaned. He kissed her tits, pressing his mouth hungrily to the soaring mounds, bunched them together and trapped his face between their heaving softness. His hands went to her bottom again, cupped the voluptuous cheeks, lifted them, then compressed their bulging, rolling fleshiness and exerted pressure to bring her agitated mound spasmodically forward so that the hard core of his knob protruding beyond the enclosure of Rita's frigging hand jabbed into her vaginal cavity.
Rita spread her legs wide, tugged at Mervyn's penis, forcing the glans against her cunt, chafing the tremulous lips. Their mouths came together again, tongues writhing like snakes. Mervyn lifted Rita, carried her with his hands under her bottom to the low bed, and dumped her on it. She squirmed erect and perched on the extreme edge, watching Mervyn remove the bathrobe then his pajamas. His naked body was covered with dark hair, thick with muscle. His obscenely jutting penis pulsed solidly, endowed with a vitality independent of his thickset frame. The skin of his scrotum was tightly shriveled, his balls full and heavy.
Rita felt a compulsion to suck his penis, a desire to feel it kicking and expanding in her mouth. Even without experiencing its regal intrusion she was close to orgasm, the carnal pit of her lust tingling and churning in sweet anguish that was rapidly becoming unbearable. She squeezed her tits, pulling at the hugely distended nipples, held her legs wide apart to expose every detail of her hot cunt, wanting to reveal everything, to exhibit herself, to give and receive the maximum. Yielding to the strong craving, she stooped forward, seized Mervyn's fat cock and quickly brought her mouth to it, pressed her lips round the straining knob. Clasping his tensed buttocks, she took several inches of prick into her mouth, and felt the savage • constriction of his limbs and the rippling surge of blood along the superb length of his roll.
She sucked more of it into the gaping cavern, grasping his cock just above its tremendous base with her left hand, still gouging the crack of his arse with her right. She was astonished when he voluntarily withdrew his prick from the fierce suction of her mouth. She tried to recapture it, but Mervyn pushed her down and deftly turned her on her belly. He delved instantly into the division of her buttocks, wallowing in the sexy furrow, licking and sniffing and grunting, thrusting his face deep into soft, squashy flesh and smelling the alluring pit of her contracting anus, then worming his features lower and tugging at the insides of her thighs to facilitate oral contact with her cunt.
Tensely overwrought, she came, wetting his mouth and nostrils, wriggling her arse and quim against his questing lips, gasping when his exploring tongue lapped the seeping dregs of her cunt drip.
Orgasm merely intensified her frenzy. The delicious feeling persisted. She turned on her back and raised both legs, spread them wide and held her hairy gash open, imploring Mervyn to fuck her, almost sobbing with the agony of her clawing need when he mounted her. Grasping his cock, she guided it, and after a moment's fumbling he achieved entry, allowed his full weight to batter the girl and drive his prick savagely in to the limit, lunging with the straining impetus of his body's descent. Her rampant cunt engulfed his impaling tool and clamped round it with exquisite suction, drawing waves of frantic sensation from it. Contracting muscles bulged her taut belly and endowed her vagina with the convulsive power akin to the choking grip of a clammy fist. She locked her fingers behind Mervyn's neck, arched her spine, and was pounded breathless with the frenzy of his fucking—flopped about, dragged up and squashed down, flattened, battered. All the time she clung to him she studied his sweating face, his rapidly changing expressions, the way his lips writhed back from his gritted teeth, the suction of his hairy nostrils.
Orgasm again swept Rita's straining body, but she still wanted more. Continuous emissions washed round the embedded prick in a series of acute spasms, a sort of chain reaction. Every grunting lunge provoked another spasm accompanied by hot, stabbing thrills that wrung high shrill cries of distress and torrid emotion from her. As Mervyn slogged into her with furious resolution Rita was again seized by the powerful urge to hold his cock in her mouth and catch the spurting gush when he came, but he shot his load before she could indulge the whim.
He lay heavily on her, panting, but presently heaved himself off and, when Rita turned on her side, stretched out beside her, his right arm supporting his head. Rita, still trembling with desire, burning in a flame that seemed inextinguishable, played with his flaccid penis, striving to coax it back to functional proportions. Mervyn watched her, and presently covered her hand with his and quickened the masturbating strokes. His organ was lifting sluggishly in little jerky movements. He drew Rita's head down, and she sucked the semi-erect tool, licking the stickiness from the glans and the gobs of semen that kept oozing from the reddened opening. Mervyn swore.
"I had you figured for a cock lover," he said. "But, my God! A week with you would kill me, or any normal man. You really like it."
Rita grimaced. She relinquished his prick.
"Don't be crude," she told him. "You're not dead yet, so fuck me again."
Mervyn laughed. He rolled her over and hauled her to a kneeling position, kissed her bottom a few times before exposing her dark split and adroitly slipping his cock in from behind. The slippery intrusion replenished the explosive conflagration heating her insatiable quim, and she pushed back against his loins until his balls slapped against the crack of her arse. He wormed into her steadily and maintained a powerful rhythm, a plunging stroke that was sheer heaven. Rita couldn't get enough of it.
Eventually his energy flagged and she realized the rampaging fuck was almost shagged out. Mervyn spunked on the ponderous inward thrust of his next lunge, and held her in a viselike grip until his lust was spent. It had been a long time sucking up from his squeezed out balls, but when it came the hot flood gushed as thickly as before and his savagely grinding tool thrashed the crimson maw of her twat as violently, the massive roots splaying the thickened vulva and sweeping long hair strands into the wet fissure. Another shattering orgasm coincided with Mervyn's delayed climax and left Rita limp and shaking, utterly exhausted, but blissfully content. She eased herself forward, separating cunt and penis, climbed unsteadily to her feet and weaved erratically into the bathroom where she stood under the cold shower while the invigorating water jetted onto her upturned face and pelted on her breasts and shoulders, running down her back into the crevice of her arse, and channeling between her joggling tits.
When she returned, Mervyn was sprawled in an armchair with his legs fully extended. His penis dangled, flabby and wrinkled. There was a birthmark on his belly, Rita noticed, shaped like a map of Africa. Mervyn ran thick fingers through his damp hair.
"It's been a long time since I sweated over a girl," he said. "Pass me a cigarette, please. You ready for that drink now?"
Rita nodded. She lit a cigarette, drew on it until it glowed, placed the butt end between Mervyn's lips.
"I need one," she said. "A real stiff jolt. No water and no ice. Then I'm going to try and get some sleep."
"All right, but stay with me, huh?"
Rita agreed. There wasn't much point in returning to her own room.
Mervyn fixed the drinks, and for a while they sat talking. Mervyn wanted to live with Rita, at least until Matt returned. Rita said she would think about it. She reminded him about Caufield. Mervyn said he didn't mind sharing her, even with a bloody black man.
They spent a restless night. Mervyn wanted to sleep, but after a couple of hours Rita disturbed him. He fucked her twice more before daybreak, and again in the bathroom, under the shower. Over breakfast he was half asleep, with dark circles round his bleary eyes; but before they began the drive to London he had extracted a promise from Rita, and on the Monday he moved into the apartment.