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    Shelly took me into her bedroom while Wizdem sat on the couch with Amber, Carol, or whatever her fucking name was. Shelly started dancing back and forth and falling around.
    "Want to see them?" she shrieked.
    "I saw them, but if you want to show me again, it would be fine," I yawned out. I was kind of getting bored with the whole situation. I had to work in the morning.
    Shelly slid off her top and I was reminded that she truly had nice tits. They were not perfect by any standards — but nice. She stumbled around and slid down the zipper on the back of her skirt and let it fall between her cheap white platform shoes. She motioned to me with one finger to come over. I walked over and kissed her. Her tongue tasted like Baileys and cigarettes. As a matter of fact, I think her tongue had been charred from cigarettes because it was like sandpaper in my mouth. I was getting a shine on my cock just thinking about it.
    "You're dressed, Grip. You need to take 'em off." ...read more

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    Shelly took me into her bedroom while Wizdem sat on the couch with Amber, Carol, or whatever her fucking name was. Shelly started dancing back and forth and falling around.
    "Want to see them?" she shrieked.
    "I saw them, but if you want to show me again, it would be fine," I yawned out. I was kind of getting bored with the whole situation. I had to work in the morning.
    Shelly slid off her top and I was reminded that she truly had nice tits. They were not perfect by any standards — but nice. She stumbled around and slid down the zipper on the back of her skirt and let it fall between her cheap white platform shoes. She motioned to me with one finger to come over. I walked over and kissed her. Her tongue tasted like Baileys and cigarettes. As a matter of fact, I think her tongue had been charred from cigarettes because it was like sandpaper in my mouth. I was getting a shine on my cock just thinking about it.
    "You're dressed, Grip. You need to take 'em off."
    I undid my pants and let them fall on the ground. She pulled my cock through my boxers and started sucking on it like it was a lollypop and she just got out of the dentist. She was rough — using her teeth, squeezing my balls. I was holding her head straight and hard — looking into space, thinking "Fuck, is this worth it? It's now four a.m. and I have to be at work at eight."
    I came on her face and all over her tits.
    She gave me an angry, one-eyed look, amazed that I blew my wad so quickly, but I knew I had to be out of there.
    "Don't think you're leaving here without returning the favor!" Shelly demanded. click to close

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    She was pretty fit for someone quite old. She balanced on the banister again, reached for his hand. She levered herself up barefooted off the wall. She slid the door-cover across the hatch with her foot. She straightened up. She looked round, still holding his hand.
    This'll do, she said.
    Dark, he said.
    She let go of his hand. But then she took off her t-shirt. The tips of her breasts were white around the nipples. She took off her shorts. Parallel postulate. Incalculable x. She took his hand again. She put it on her thigh, then put it further up her thigh. Point of contact. She undid his belt. It leapt out, it formed a parabolic curve (roughly speaking y = x squared). She squeezed him. It shot out, like out of a spot.
    Then she said, lie down here.
    Manifold = aggregate.
    Aggregate = formed of parts that make up a whole.
    Infinity = never-stopping. ...read more

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    She was pretty fit for someone quite old. She balanced on the banister again, reached for his hand. She levered herself up barefooted off the wall. She slid the door-cover across the hatch with her foot. She straightened up. She looked round, still holding his hand.
    This'll do, she said.
    Dark, he said.
    She let go of his hand. But then she took off her t-shirt. The tips of her breasts were white around the nipples. She took off her shorts. Parallel postulate. Incalculable x. She took his hand again. She put it on her thigh, then put it further up her thigh. Point of contact. She undid his belt. It leapt out, it formed a parabolic curve (roughly speaking y = x squared). She squeezed him. It shot out, like out of a spot.
    Then she said, lie down here.
    Manifold = aggregate.
    Aggregate = formed of parts that make up a whole.
    Infinity = never-stopping.
    A sequence which repeats itself at regular intervals, once, then again, then again, then again = periodic.
    Point of intersection. She made him lie on his back, she was perpendicular, right-angled. She added herself to him.
    The line going from Amber's eyes to his at one precise moment had the most unbelievably beautiful gradient in the world.
    Inside her was like going inside a boxing glove, or a room made of pillows, or wings. Magnus exploded into a billion small white feathers.
    The smell of the hot summer attic, the smell of them both, stuck with amazing sweat. The lean of her up against him afterwards, laughing against his ear. The lean of her whole body as she walks, as she talks, as she sits saying nothing at all, smiles at him across the table over supper with nobody else knowing. Her hidden miraculous curves.
    Amber = angel.
    They have sex in the loft three more times. Twice when the house is too full of people they have quick (quite sore) sex in the garden behind the bushy hedge. Once Amber comes to Magnus's bedroom after everyone has gone to bed. This is one of the best times.
    It is unbelievable.
    How wet it all is is a little shocking. Magnus had no idea. He is also always a little shocked, no matter how many times he sees it, by Amber having hair, like that, down there. It simply hadn't occurred to him women would. It is of course obvious when you think about it. Of course they do. Presumably they remove it with hair-removing products before they go online or have their photos taken or are filmed. Or maybe, like boys, like men, some women just have it, some just don't. Maybe older women have it. He looks at his mother as she walks across the garden. He wonders if she removes it, or if she hasn't any, or if she has a lot. He wonders in what area of cm squared. Then he has to blink a lot, he can hardly think straight. click to close

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    Ricky slathered a generous amount of massage oil on his right hand and, with little fanfare, poked a finger into Stephen's bottom. Stephen gasped, which was a damn good thing, as it kept him from hearing my own. This was not the sort of incursion one expected a rugged, humanity-saving action hero to countenance and I wondered if Stephen would turn to face his invader with a stern glare and a cry of "You go too far, sir!"
    But Stephen did not protest. He groaned softly and wagged his bottom from side to side, a gesture Ricky correctly interpreted as meaning, "More fingers, please." He obliged with a second, then a third, performing this chore, I felt, in an oddly dispassionate, businesslike way as though he were looking for his keys in there.
    Some verbal foreplay ensued, Ricky drawing his inspiration from the screenplays of his favorite adult films. Rubbing himself through his briefs, he asked Stephen if he wanted his big nasty cock up his butt. Stephen replied that, yes, he wanted that big nasty cock real bad, lust wreaking its usual havoc on grammar. Ricky repeated the question and Stephen replied once more in the affirmative. "You like a big fat cock, don't you?" asked Ricky ...read more

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    Ricky slathered a generous amount of massage oil on his right hand and, with little fanfare, poked a finger into Stephen's bottom. Stephen gasped, which was a damn good thing, as it kept him from hearing my own. This was not the sort of incursion one expected a rugged, humanity-saving action hero to countenance and I wondered if Stephen would turn to face his invader with a stern glare and a cry of "You go too far, sir!"
    But Stephen did not protest. He groaned softly and wagged his bottom from side to side, a gesture Ricky correctly interpreted as meaning, "More fingers, please." He obliged with a second, then a third, performing this chore, I felt, in an oddly dispassionate, businesslike way as though he were looking for his keys in there.
    Some verbal foreplay ensued, Ricky drawing his inspiration from the screenplays of his favorite adult films. Rubbing himself through his briefs, he asked Stephen if he wanted his big nasty cock up his butt. Stephen replied that, yes, he wanted that big nasty cock real bad, lust wreaking its usual havoc on grammar. Ricky repeated the question and Stephen replied once more in the affirmative. "You like a big fat cock, don't you?" asked Ricky, as though Stephen hadn't made himself quite clear on the point. Stephen, polite to a fault, said yes, he did very much. "You want this big boy up your ass?" inquired Ricky, and by then I was ready to spring from under the table and shout, "He wants to get fucked! What do you need? A UN interpreter?!"
    Ricky finally decided to oblige, ripping off his tear-away undies and exposing their impressive cargo, a sight that left me feeling both aroused and daunted; it was one thing for Stephen to be a bottom but did he have to be spoiled? Ricky sheathed it in a silvery condom that made it gleam like a hood ornament and I wondered frankly how Stephen's garage was going to accommodate it. Ricky parked it though and with an ungentle velocity that caused Stephen to arch his back and bury his face in the massage table's doughnut hole, a feature I hadn't even noticed till I felt hot breath on my neck and gazed up to see Stephen's face framed in it mere inches from my own. The eyes, thank God, were tightly closed, his lovely features contorted in a lip-biting wince. The thought bubble, had there been one, would have read, "Remind me again why I like this."
    I stared up at him, my emotions whipsawing between terror of being caught and the natural fascination one feels on beholding the face of a penetrated action star. Ricky delivered a second salvo that caused the table to shake and Stephen to whip his head up out of the doughnut. I ducked down and peered out from under the sheet again. There was Ricky, looking less lustful than diligent as he plied his trade, the strokes slow and regular as though quality control were timing them. But the sight of Stephen squirming in bliss was one I found overwhelmingly stimulating and soon old faithful was indignantly battering the walls of my trousers as is to say, "I'm here too, y'know!" I reached for my zipper then stopped, realizing how drastically this would compound my embarrassment were Stephen to peer through the doughnut and discover me. A moment later Ricky, bless him, growled, "Turn over, I want to see you!" and Stephen promptly obliged. Free now from fear of exposure, I exposed myself and soon they were at it again with yours truly downstairs playing the home version.
    I could see Stephen's face in the mirror through the whole thing. His eyes never left it, so transfixed was he by the view. There are those who might have called this narcissism, but I was inclined to take a more charitable view. There was, after all, not a gay man alive who wouldn't have been utterly mesmerized by the sight. Why should Stephen himself find it any less engrossing? click to close

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    But once I'd caught my breath a bit, I started to notice the woman sitting opposite. Her legs were crossed, and she was wearing brown velvet trousers, very tight round the thighs and hips, so that the straining seam emphasized that emphatic feminine curve from knee to waist. We were sitting across from each other in the "disabled" space with no table sticking out between us, so it was a view well worth looking at if you're a man that likes hips, which I do, and I admired for some time before my eye drifted upwards. She was wearing a suede jacket, expensive; and a linen shirt under it, just transparent enough to show the bra beneath, an elegant lacy affair of impressive capacity. Her hands were relaxed, resting loosely on her thighs, small and plumpish with short fingers; the left one was wearing a wedding ring, and a hefty diamond. Finally I flicked a glance up at her face. She was looking straight back at me, so I dropped my eyes at once. Not quite a beauty, but very attractive. She had dark eyes, wide set, under straightish, heavy brows, in a broad, fair-skinned face. Chin beginning to go a bit, she wasn't a girl, but a very confident fortyish and looking good on it, a bit younger than me, but not much. She had a greedy little red mouth, unsmiling; she put just the tip of her tongue out as I looked at it, and licked her lips deliberately. ...read more

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    But once I'd caught my breath a bit, I started to notice the woman sitting opposite. Her legs were crossed, and she was wearing brown velvet trousers, very tight round the thighs and hips, so that the straining seam emphasized that emphatic feminine curve from knee to waist. We were sitting across from each other in the "disabled" space with no table sticking out between us, so it was a view well worth looking at if you're a man that likes hips, which I do, and I admired for some time before my eye drifted upwards. She was wearing a suede jacket, expensive; and a linen shirt under it, just transparent enough to show the bra beneath, an elegant lacy affair of impressive capacity. Her hands were relaxed, resting loosely on her thighs, small and plumpish with short fingers; the left one was wearing a wedding ring, and a hefty diamond. Finally I flicked a glance up at her face. She was looking straight back at me, so I dropped my eyes at once. Not quite a beauty, but very attractive. She had dark eyes, wide set, under straightish, heavy brows, in a broad, fair-skinned face. Chin beginning to go a bit, she wasn't a girl, but a very confident fortyish and looking good on it, a bit younger than me, but not much. She had a greedy little red mouth, unsmiling; she put just the tip of her tongue out as I looked at it, and licked her lips deliberately.
    So much has happened since then that it's hard to be sure I'm remembering exactly what I felt at that first meeting, but the absolutely key thing which stuck with me was the intensely feminine quality of her presence. She was the kind of woman who made herself into a challenge simply by existing in the same space. I risked another look up, and felt an electric shock as our gazes clashed. She was the first to look away, but it was for a long, ostentatious look-up-and-down; and as her eyes traveled slowly over my body, I have to say, I knew perfectly well I was starting to give her something to look at. I could see that the reaction was mutual; her nipples had popped up, and she was nibbling her lower lip. She had unusually small teeth, square and very white. They looked sharp.
    Some time went by. The train pulled into Stonehaven, then out again. I could feel her looking at me, trying to provoke me, but I was determined not to get drawn into her wee game. I had plenty to think about, so I stared out of the window for fifteen minutes working out what I was going to say to my client; then something drew my attention back to her, willy-nilly. It was hard to think what it was that had caught me, at first, and then I realized that she was breathing a little more heavily — with a chest like that, of course, it was hard to overlook. She was also getting a tiny bit flushed, eyes and lips soft and shiny. The small, short-fingered hand resting on her leg tensed, and then suddenly the penny dropped, and I realized what she was doing. If you were observing really closely, you could see the slight rhythmic play of her thigh muscles, clenching, holding for a moment, releasing. I had a girlfriend once who confided to me that if she was on a train and was wearing really right trousers, she could bring herself off just like that, just by crossing her legs tightly and sitting forward a bit, due to the vibration. Diddly-dee, diddly-du, diddly-dee, diddly dum . . . Bitch. Cow. Whore. I thought. She was doing it on purpose; she'd damn well made sure that I'd noticed, and she knew I couldn't do likewise without getting myself arrested. I could've killed her. She was starting to rock fractionally in her seat, her spine tense; she wasn't far off . . . I couldn't make myself move, or speak; I just stared at her as if I'd been hypnotized, knowing I was going scarlet, waiting for it to be over. She was staring through me blankly, seeing nothing at all. The wet red lips parted, she gave a little sigh. The end, and nobody else had noticed a thing.
    There was an elderly couple sitting across from us: she was reading Bella, and he was reading the Angling Times and they were sharing a bag of smoky-bacon crisps. Not a rustle or a twitch suggested that they were aware of the drama going on across the aisle, but I could sense the animal heat coming off her in waves. I grabbed my raincoat to hold in front of me, and fled to the loo to get myself decent. As I'd pretty well expected, I came just about the moment I'd unzipped, though I stopped long enough to have a pee, just to be on the safe side.
    I washed my hands, and went back to my seat, absolutely furious with her. click to close

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    "Take 'em off."
    He silenced her with a brutal kiss, this one hungrier than the last. His hands slid up her thighs, gripped her hips and she barely registered the taut rip of her lacy thong falling apart. He pulled the material free, the slickness of her arousal sliding over her clitoris before the fabric was tossed away. She broke the kiss, desperate for air, desperate for him.
    "Max, hurry . . . "
    She fumbled with his button fly, but he was quicker and the hiss of the zipper soon followed. In a flash his jeans and boxers were shucked to his knees and she was yanked back into his arms.
    After a weightless moment, she realized he'd lifted her — lifted her! — right off her feet, to bury his face in her breasts.
    "Oh!" Her shaky moan sounded too pornographic in the quietness of the room.
    He took a nipple into his mouth, sucking it as intently as he'd tasted her mouth. He moved to her other breast, then lowered her slowly down his body, riding the unmistakable hard length of his cock. ..read more

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    "Take 'em off."
    He silenced her with a brutal kiss, this one hungrier than the last. His hands slid up her thighs, gripped her hips and she barely registered the taut rip of her lacy thong falling apart. He pulled the material free, the slickness of her arousal sliding over her clitoris before the fabric was tossed away. She broke the kiss, desperate for air, desperate for him.
    "Max, hurry . . . "
    She fumbled with his button fly, but he was quicker and the hiss of the zipper soon followed. In a flash his jeans and boxers were shucked to his knees and she was yanked back into his arms.
    After a weightless moment, she realized he'd lifted her — lifted her! — right off her feet, to bury his face in her breasts.
    "Oh!" Her shaky moan sounded too pornographic in the quietness of the room.
    He took a nipple into his mouth, sucking it as intently as he'd tasted her mouth. He moved to her other breast, then lowered her slowly down his body, riding the unmistakable hard length of his cock.
    "Oh . . . God . . . yes." She couldn't look away from his eyes as she slid further down his body, the bulbous tip of his cock teased the wet folds of her sex, finding and pushing into her sheath, delving deeper, inch by slick inch . . .
    "Oh yes . . . "
    His arms trembled around her, and she moaned weakly, very aware of his thickness invading her, stretching her more and more, deeper, until the snugness bordered on pain.
    She saw the shock in his eyes as realization hit. "A virgin?"
    Ruled by the licks of desire, she replied by shifting her hips, feeling trapped, aroused and incomplete, needing him to end the unrelenting yearning.
    "Don't!" Abruptly, he lifted her off him. The world dipped and she suddenly felt the bed at her back as they tumbled into it. The hard bluntness of his cock was hot where it pushed damply against her inner thigh. Above her, Max was clenching his teeth, his eyes blazing with desire, accusation, anger and some other unnamed emotion.
    Shauna shifted beneath him, stripped of her pride, naked beneath skin. "Please, Max . . . You want me. I want you — "
    "Sweet heaven," he growled.
    Emotion choked her and she cupped his face in her hands, almost in tears. "Wishes are not for cowards," she whispered.
    "Damn you," he muttered.
    He closed his eyes and she could feel the strain of his muscles as he held perfectly still. She kissed him desperately, using every feminine instinct to break his willpower.
    "I promise I won't ask for anything more than this, Max . . . Don't make me beg . . . "
    Eyes closed, his muscles strained beneath her touch before he kissed her with such tenderness that her heart squeezed in her chest. Then there, drowning in the taste of him, he slid into her again, partially filling her and stroking in sweet, short thrusts that only served to make her more senseless.
    She tightened her grip around his hips, saying his name with urgency. The pleasure spiraled in degrees, with his hungry, searching mouth, with the sensuous strokes and caresses of his hands, with those infuriating short strokes that were just not enough.
    Shauna cried out in frustration. "Max!"
    He suddenly flexed his hips harder, breaching her virginity and filling her to the hilt in one swift thrust.
    "Oh!" The pain suspended the pleasure for an instant before fading. Then there was the overwhelming, delicious sensation of feeling joined and utterly filled by him. Finally!
    Shauna cupped his head, and kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him . . . their hips unmoving.
    "Shauna . . . I'm sorry."
    Max braced above her, his face taut, his teeth clenched.
    "I wanted to go slow for you," he growled huskily.
    "It feels . . . incredible."
    He rocked into her in an experimental thrust, as if testing his control. Then again, and again . . . and again . . .
    The rhythm of it docked deep into her, riding her wetness, tilling new emotions with each thrust. She moaned, unable to help herself. Each breath and caress gathered the fringes of a new sensual storm closer like a circling fire. The scrape of his jaw brushed her breast as his mouth found her nipple again.
    "Relax, babe," he coaxed. "Don't fight it."
    "I, ah . . . oh . . . " It was there, almost within reach, almost . . .
    The sensations gathered force, drawing nearer, and she only knew that she felt as if she was about to dive backward from a ledge. "Oh, God."
    He murmured things against her skin, the wide rub of his palms held her possessively, his mouth nipping, licking and sucking alternately made her tremble further until she was breathlessly dizzy.
    When she thought she couldn't stand it any more, his hand moved between their bodies and strokes her clitoris, circling and rubbing the nub in synch with his thrusts, his words coaxing her in a mindless language of murmurs.     "Now, babe," he whispered urgently. "Now . . . "
    Behind her eyes, she fell backward into the abyss of pleasure, surrendering, trusting, falling . . . falling . . .
    The whiplash of orgasm was sudden and blinding, clenching around him, grinding and gripping him as she drowned in the mindless, timeless sensation of utter release. click to close