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© 2001, Rod Stiffener - Used by Permission
|story continued from part two|
JANE IN TOWN
Part III of the Lady Jane Trilogy
(Fantasies always come in Trilogies).
A few weeks had passed since Mike and I had our threesome with Lady
Jane, during which she submitted to being tied to the bed by her wrists
and ankles. She appeared to love every minute of it. Of course
she would never have said so out loud, but I think by now I can tell when
a woman is aroused. And on that occasion she was extremely aroused.
I saw her before she saw me. She wore a proper-looking blue skirt
and white blouse, and I could see the outline of a sturdy bra cradling
her large tits. It looked like she'd just had her hair done.
Probably tinted too, as there was no sign of any grey, yet I knew for a
fact that she had a few grey hairs. On her pussy, at least.
She was starting to irritate me again with her stuck-up attitude.
But dislike and physical attraction are not necessarily mutually exclusive.
Not when a person as hateful as her has tits as marvellous as hers. I began
to wonder how I could get her into another compromising position, like
we did with her before. Teach her a lesson, one that she would no
doubt enjoy too much anyway. But it wouldn't be easy. I could
hardly go and tie her to the nearest lamp-post. I am not an exhibitionist,
as my fear of getting caught outweighs any thrill I might get from sex
in public. To me, the thrill is doing it without getting caught...
She detected a harder edge to my voice, and didn't protest when I took
her arm and led her to the store's coffee shop.
"Figured out yet who it was that helped me ravish you the other day?"
My hand reached for her leg under the long tablecloth, and rested on
her knee beside the hem of her skirt. No one else could see.
We were in plain view of the three biddies, plus two other couples and
a man in a business suit by himself to our left. But the generously
sized tablecloth kept us hidden from mid-riff downwards. My hand went slowly
under the hem of the skirt and began to slide it upwards, baring her thighs.
She grabbed my hand and tried to pull it away.
Meanwhile, my fingertips had made the discovery that, as usual, she was wearing french knickers. Oh good! Plenty of room in which to move. Going up one leg of the knickers, I was soon entangled in her luxuriant pubic hair which I proceeded to tease and twirl. Needing something to do rather than sit there like a tailor's dummy, she got out a cigarette and lit up, slowly and deliberately. Personally I hate cigarette smoke but this time I was willing to make an exception, especially as she would purse her lips on taking each drag, like she was sucking on a little cock. Pure '40's film noir, and she was concentrating very hard on staying cool and poker-faced as my hand burrowed further into her snatch beneath the tablecloth.
She started to make small talk, to keep up the appearance that this was, after all, two people socialising. It would look odd if our conversation stopped altogether, so she commented on the people opposite, how so and so really didn't look good with her hair like that, how such and such was mutton-dressed-as-lamb by wearing that outfit, and the other one was a bitch anyway and no one else could stand her but for the fact her husband was the General Manager of thing-ummy-jig. But she was rambling and unfocused as my fingertip parted the forest of cunt hairs about her entrance and felt the first hot flow of her internal fluids issuing forth.
I got a finger well up inside her vagina, but the angle was no good
for getting two in. Never mind, this was having the desired effect
on her. I was using the finger that penetrated her as a pivot to
swivel my hand in such a way that her clit was being brushed this way and
that. Her insides wer very swampy by now, and she opened her legs
wider to get more of me in.
Sure enough, the fellow in the business suit was regarding us over his cup of coffee, looking intently at the tablecloth that was supposed to be concealing our activity. The old biddies definitely couldn't see, but the tablecloth was off-centre. On his side it didn't fall far enough to provide adequate cover, and when she parted her legs he could now glimpse her pale thighs and my hand churning away at her crotch. I didn't break stride, and simply carried on playing with her pussy as if nothing could be more natural. I looked at him and he winked at me over his coffee cup.
Jane cooly took another drag on her cigarette and looked him straight
back in the eye. Her only adjustment to our game was to part her
legs even wider. I frigged her a bit more vigorously, with no fear
of hurting her because she was really wet and sloppy now. Just had
to keep my movements below the table, but anyway the biddies were getting
up to leave now.
I picked up where I left off, getting my fingers deep into her and really hitting her on the button. She looked back into the eyes of the gentleman opposite, and grabbed the edge of the table for support as she started coming and coming and coming. The noise was kept to a minimum, just long pauses between each sharply drawn breath, but her cigarette had fallen and was burning a hole in the tablecloth. Her cunt muscles were wringing at my finger, and her eyes bored into those of the man opposite. She slumped back, and I withdrew my hand. The businessman raised his cup in a silent salute, then drained it in a single gulp, as if drinking a toast.
Well, that was Chapter One concluded as far as Jane was concerned.
But I was now as horny as hell, and the other chap would have to be a Trappist
Monk to be unaffected by what he had just witnessed. I got up.
We stood between the van and the end wall. I grabbed one of her
big tits and manhandled it, until the besuited gentleman had joined us.
He was forties, paunchy and balding, but presumably his prick still thought
he was only sixteen or he wouldn't have followed us. I kept the small talk
to a minimum.
He needed no further encouragement. I squatted out of view and
watched as he hiked her skirt up above her hips and slid her french knickers
down until they puddled on the dirty cement at her feet. Her bum
was now bare, big globes with dimpled cellulite along the bottom curve
of each buttock, long legs running down and feet spaced apart. He
unzipped and took out a fat, stubby erect penis, pulling enough of it through
his fly to penetrate her with it.
It was a truly disgusting, degrading spectacle, one which I now knew excited her more than anything else. I was starting to think this woman had a problem. But hey! If she did, then I was a part of the problem. What's the harm as long as it is consensual? The stranger spoofed with vigour. We could tell that these were the vinegar strokes by his desperate motions and the expression on his face. It probably wasn't all that great for Jane, because he had been very quick, and anyway she had already come. Still, even after coming, it seems she just likes to be used. And used. And used. An archetypal slut, such a contrast to her patrician demenour on all other occasions.
He had finished, and wasted no time divesting himself of the condom
and throwing it to the ground. Splat! A quick "Have a nice
day," and he was outta there, his business with us was done. He didn't
even stop to ask for his necktie back.
But we couldn't do this all day. I stood and unzipped, getting my cock out into the breeze and lining it up with her mouth. She gulped it in and started bobbing her head up and down on it, giving tight little sucks on each outstroke. This was no teasing. This was designed to make me come in double-quick time. And it was working, too. I was in seventh heaven. Jane was a strikingly handsome woman with good bone structure, and one could easily imagine what she would have looked like before aging and smoking began to take its toll. She still looked good to me, with her lips wrapped around my cock and aristocratic features composed into an expression of pure slutty horniness. She knew how to suck a cock, too!
The sight of my cock in her mouth, her naked tits spilling out of her blouse, and the liquid-velvet sensations of her sucking were enough to get me close to spilling my seed in about four minutes flat. My knees began to tremble and I felt the beginning of that cosmic rush, so hard to express in words, the moment when a fellow doesn't care what orifice he is in, he just wants to get deeper up it. But coming in her mouth would have been too easy. I quickly pulled out and got lower, shoving my dick into her cleavage and pulling her breasts around it as I started to shoot my load. I humped her tits, lubricated by my own sperm, until my cock started to shrink and go rubbery.
Pulling back, I could see that I had made a mess. The first spurt had hit her on the chin and dribbled down her throat. Droplets of cum clung to the gold chain around her neck. The rest had got squished all over her cleavage and upper slopes of her tits, making translucent damp patches on her white blouse in several places. I stood her up without untying her, and put her clothes back into place myself. She would have to ditch the french knickers, they were all filthy from being on the cement all this time. We could hear voices of shoppers getting into a car not far away, but so far no one had come to claim the van she was tied up to. Just as well.
By buttoning up her blouse for her, I was able to ensure that sperm was still visible at her throat and got even more rubbed in to her blouse. It would be obvious to anyone who looked at her that she had been in an 'accident'. I didn't know where she had parked her little MG sports coupe, but I hoped for her sake that it was not far. I stood close and put my arms around her to untie her bonds, taking the opportunity to kiss her full on the lips and slip in some tongue. God, I hate the taste of smokers! I wished I had spoofed in her mouth after all, since the taste of my own sperm would have been much preferable.
Whoever eventually came to collect their van was going to find beside it a very rumpled necktie, a filthy pair of french knickers, and a soiled condom. I wondered what they would make of it?
We walked in silence back to the stairs and emerged into the department
store lobby. She seemed oblivious to the traces of peckersnot at
her throat and on her blouse. Being pantiless was not such a problem
for her, as her skirt was fairly conservative in its length.
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2001 | updated - 07.04.17