Addicted (10 page)

"Yes, I do,"
Geoff said, breaking my reverie.

"I'm
sorry?"

"I do want
some more."

"You'd better
lie back, then," I smiled, provocatively licking my lips.

"No, you lie
back first."

"How much
money do you have on you?" I asked. Suzie was a prostitute, Geoff
had to pay.

"How much do
you charge?"

"Fifty
pounds."

"I have
enough. What's your name?"

"Suzie."

I lay back
with my skirt up over my stomach, my legs wide apart, my cunt
beautifully exposed - Suzie's cunt. I was for sale, selling sex.
Geoff began by crudely driving his finger into me, desperately
finger-fucking me in his youth, his obvious inexperience. He knew
not of the gentle rhythm, the subtle caress of the female
genitalia. I gasped, made noises of immense sexual pleasure as he
drove a second finger into my wet vagina, stretching me open.

"You're very
wet," he said, increasing his rhythm. Was he surprised?

"I'm feeling
really horny," I replied in my corruption. "Why not lick my cunt
out, drink my sex juice?"

"In a minute,
I want to make you come first."

He didn't make
me come, as he'd put it. But I faked orgasm for his sake, gasping
and writhing as he crudely finger-fucked my cunt, ignoring my
clitoris. In his naivety, did he know that my clitoris existed?
Through my eyelashes, I watched him gazing at my cunt, my inner
lips rolling along his cunny-wet thrusting fingers. Had he ever
tasted pussy juice, drunk heady female sex fluid? Slipping his
fingers out of my tightening vagina when he'd decided that I'd come
enough, he leaned over, his virginal tongue licking the full length
of my sex slit.

"It's a nice
taste," he said, confirming my suspicions. "Very nice!"

"Push your
tongue right up my cunt hole!" I gasped crudely, delighting in his
inexperience, my vulgarity.

Doing his best
to comply, he lapped around my open hole, his tongue driving into
me as he tried to master the fine art of cunny-tonguing. The Suzie
trick was working wonders, I felt no guilt, no qualms - I'd found
the perfect way to take my fix. If I bought myself a wig and cheap
makeup, no one would recognise me as the lady from the big house
down the lane. Suzie was my salvation.

Suddenly,
Geoff was kneeling between my legs, his jeans down, his solid penis
in his hand. Desperately stabbing his bulbous knob between my
bloated vaginal lips, he drove his cock deep into my tight cunt.
His swinging balls slapping my buttocks as he repeatedly withdrew
and thrust into me, he was quickly nearing his climax. Resting his
weight on his arms, his grimacing face above mine, he gasped,
pistoning his cockhead, all too soon jetting his spunk into my
thirsty cunt.

I'd scoop his
sperm out of my vagina and lick my fingers, get my fix that way, I
decided as he thrust home again, pummelling my cervix, filling me
with his gushing come. He said nothing as he made his last thrusts,
only grunting and groaning in his climax. Collapsing on top of me,
leaving me yeaning for orgasm, he finally rolled to one side, his
wet cock slipping out of my brimming cunt.

Massaging my
solid clitoris, I brought out my shuddering climax, gasping and
tossing my head as the wonderful sensations permeated my quivering
body. Watching me, his eyes focused on my vibrating fingertips, he
grinned, probably wondering at his luck in meeting me - a tart, a
nymphomaniac. Prostitute.

Dropping a wad
of notes onto the grass as he buckled his belt and zipped his
jeans, he stood over me, towering above me. I scooped his cream out
of my vaginal cavern, lapping the heady blend of sperm and cunt
milk from my sticky fingers as he watched in awe. Again and again I
fingered my juiced cunt and lapped up the creamy products of our
orgasms until I'd drained my sex duct.

"I'll see you
again," he smiled as he turned and wandered off.

"Yes, in a day
or two," I replied, tugging my skirt down, concealing my swollen
cunt lips, my yawning sex crack.

Glancing back
now and then as if unable to believe that I was real, he walked
across the common. He must have thought me to be a dream, a dream
come true - every man's dream. He became smaller and smaller until
I could no longer see him, like a dream, suddenly gone. But I had
his sperm, and his money. Suzie had done her job well. Priority
number two, Alan Walker. What to do about Alan Walker and his
photographs?

Returning
home, I slipped out of my clothes and wandered into the lounge to
gaze at the photographs, my naked body glowing, sperm-satisfied. I
preferred nakedness now, displaying my wares. I preferred dirty sex
to loving sex.

To my horror, I discovered that the photographs had gone, only
the envelope remaining.
Please do not
bend
. Had Tony cut short his trip and
returned? I wondered fearfully. No, he hadn't. Had I hidden the
incriminating evidence somewhere? No, they'd been on the sofa where
Alan had left them, thrown them.

The back door
was open, and the side gate. In my insane craving for sperm I must
have left it open and... and someone had wandered into the house.
"My God!" I gasped, wondering who had the evidence of my disgusting
behaviour. Whoever it was would blackmail me, I was sure.
Blackmailed by two people over the same photographs? I couldn't
believe it! Neither could I believe that the thief had also taken
my painting. My private painting, my secret - adultery. Flopping
onto my chesterfield, I cried.

There had been
no word from Alan Walker since his visit three days previously, or
from whoever had taken the photographs and my painting. Someone,
somewhere, was looking at the pornographic pictures, scrutinizing
me, the cucumber up my cunt, the solid cocks spunking over my full
breasts, my nipples - but who? I'd find out, no doubt.

Tony had
phoned several times, asking how I was and what I'd been doing. I'd
lied, of course - lied in my bisexual adultery. My work had gone by
the way, my brushes standing in their jam jars - neglected, dead
flowers. My pallet thirsty for fresh paint, a blank canvas yeaning
for oils...

To my dismay,
I'd heard that David and Lydia had gone away on holiday. Perhaps
they were trying to rekindle their love after their infidelity.
Infidelity kills love. Sex kills love. Had Lydia told David of her
lesbian act, her female to female sixty-nine? No, I doubted it very
much.

The phone rang
as I was about to wander down the lane to the common in search of
Geoff for my fix. Was it Lydia? Images of her open cunt swirled in
my tormented mind; I couldn't forget the beautiful lesbian
coupling. Lifting the receiver, I was sure that it wouldn't be
Tony, not at ten in the morning. Perhaps it was Alan Walker? No,
I'd had an idea that Alan wouldn't get back to me. He'd tried for
money once, tried blackmail once, and failed. He'd probably leave
it at that.

"Helen, it's
Gary. How are you?" my neighbour asked as I pressed the receiver to
my ear. A deep male voice, a soft brown voice. I felt lonely. I
wanted my candle, candle-fucking me.

"I'm fine," I
lied, realizing that my panic wouldn't allow me the pleasure of
masturbation, orgasm.

"Would you
like to come over for a coffee?"

"Er... well,
I..."

"I heard that
Tony's away and I thought..."

"Yes, why not?
Give me a few minutes."

"OK, I'll put
the kettle on."

Gary's house
was a hundred yards or so down the lane, a huge house with a
thatched roof. I slipped my hand up my skirt and fondled my naked
femininity, my pubic thatch had gone. An architect, Gary had done
well for himself, and I'd often wondered why he'd not married. He
must have found loneliness in that big house alone. I imagined him
masturbating. He was in his mid-thirties, not bad looking, a good
catch for some lucky woman. Masturbating alone in his big thatched
house.

Tony and I had
enjoyed a couple of Gary's barbeques, but we'd never really
socialised with him, probably because he worked away most of the
time. I thought it odd that he should invite me round for coffee
out of the blue like that. He'd never done it before. Perhaps he'd
thought I might like some company? I mused as I wandered down the
lane in my miniskirt, the air cooling my naked vaginal lips - my
cunt. Perhaps he wanted company?

I'd have a cup
of coffee with him, and then go on to the common in the hope of
finding Geoff. I hadn't been to the common since I'd last seen
Geoff and I was desperate to drink his sperm. My symptoms were as
bad as ever, my breathing shallow, my heart hunting futilely for
rhythm.

My hands
trembling as I walked up Gary's drive, I wondered whether I should
go to the common first, drink from Geoff's sperm-slit before
visiting Gary. Perhaps Gary would oblige, supply me with a fix, I
found myself thinking as he opened the front door, his face
beaming. No, not my neighbour! Besides, Suzie was the only one who
gobbled cocks and drank sperm, not Helen. Helen, the faithful,
devoted, loving wife.

"News travels
fast," Gary said as I followed him through the hall into the
kitchen.

"News?" I
echoed, sitting at the round pine table as he poured the coffee. I
don't know why, but I imagined that he knew about my illicit
exploits. My imagination runs away with me at times.

"Your
addiction."

I was stunned!
"Addiction? What addiction?" I asked, my hands trembling.

"Young David
does some gardening for me, he told me all about it."

My God,
now
what sort of mess was I in? I wondered fearfully as he placed
two cups of coffee on the table and sat opposite me. There was
little point in denying it, I reflected, wondering what to say.
David was a bastard! I'd strangle him the next...

"I've never
heard of anyone becoming addicted to sperm before," Gary said
nonchalantly, sipping his coffee as if we were talking about
Wimbledon. I like tennis, the short skirts. Ball boys, call girls.
For some reason, I imagined playing tennis naked.

The top
buttons of Gary's crisp white shirt were open, revealing his
bronzed chest, his black chest hair - pubic hair. "It's weird,
isn't it?" he added.

"I'm
not
addicted to sperm!" I laughed. "What
are
you talking about?"

"David told me
all about it, Helen."

Now that Gary
knew, I was sure that Tony would find out within hours of
returning. News does travel fast, especially bad news. What would I
say, what would I do? This really was an incredible mess. My
addiction had involved so many people that the situation was
ridiculous! I'd made too many mistakes.

"Are you
desperate for sperm now?" Gary asked, his hazel eyes locked to
mine, his brown hair cascading over his forehead.

"No, no I'm...
I'm not addicted to sperm, Gary!" I laughed nervously, wringing my
hands. "What an absurd idea!"

"Well, when
you need some, come over and see me," he said, as if offering me a
cup of sugar should I run out. "When's Tony due back?"

"Er... not for
a while," I replied, wondering at his cool attitude. I had to keep
my secret.

"What are the
symptoms?"

"I don't have
any symptoms!" I returned, rather too loudly.

"Helen, we can
be of use to each other. You need sperm, and I need..."

"Gary, I have
no idea what you're talking about! Whatever David said simply isn't
true! Addicted to sperm? For goodness sake! He was obviously having
you on."

"No, he
wasn't. Anyway, you know where I am if you need me."

Standing up, I
turned and walked to the door, my heart palpitating wildly. I did
need him. Well, I needed a man, I needed sperm. I wanted to turn
the clock back, to start again. Had I thought of Suzie in the first
place, none of this would have happened. She would have donned her
wig and strutted across the common - and quenched my thirst. I
thought of moving, leaving the area and beginning a new life. With
Tony? I didn't know.

"You enjoyed
yourself on the common the other day, didn't you?" Gary called as I
walked through the hall to the front door. I stopped dead in my
tracks, my face flushing, my hands trembling, my legs sagging. What
did he know about the common? Turning, I returned to the kitchen
and stood in the doorway, frowning at him. He was smiling
triumphantly, sipping his coffee and waving at the chair opposite
him, inviting me to sit down. He couldn't know about Geoff, could
he? There was no way he could know!

"I saw you
walking down the lane the other day and decided to join you," he
began as I pulled the chair out. "I have a few days off work, which
makes a nice change. Anyway, by the time I'd left the house and
walked down the drive, you'd gone. I ambled down the lane,
wondering where you were, and I happened to see you on the common.
I began to catch up with you but I stopped when I saw you hovering
near some bushes. You were looking around, as if waiting for
someone, which I found odd."

"Why is it odd
that I should be on the common looking around?" I asked, praying
that he hadn't seen me on the grass, my skirt up, my cunt...

"I don't know,
I just found it odd. You disappeared behind the bushes, then a
young man walked across the common and disappeared behind the
bushes. I found that odd, too."

"I find all
this very odd!" I said, sitting down.

"I approached
the bushes from the other direction, through the trees. Like a
mouse, I was, creeping through the undergrowth. I saw and heard
everything, Helen. Or, I should say, Suzie."

I thought my
heart was going to stop as I held my hand to my open mouth. My God,
he knew everything! My first reaction was to run away. But I was
stunned, glued to the chair, frozen with fear, guilt,
embarrassment.