Erotica (the collected works of Amelie) (4 page)

Best thing of all was he had the stamina of
a soldier.

All the while as he pumped I watched Cheryl
as her man had her legs open so that she was practically doing the splits. His
buttocks were tight and lean and shone with a glaze of sweat as he pushed and
pushed.

When she came I came and vice versa.

In the end, my man started to get
over-heated.

“Come on you beautiful cunt,” he said over
and over.

It seemed to bring him close, so I squeezed
as tightly as I can, gripping his cock and feeling it tight until it eventually
throbbed and filled me with his heat.

There haven’t been many orgasms like that
one. Not until last night, that is. Even so, I’ll always treasure it and, even
though I haven’t played poker since, I’d love to take a trip to Vegas and maybe
try it all over again.

The morning after our poker they boys had
gone.

I woke up under a blanket in the arms of
Cheryl.

We cuddled for a while, but there was no
sex and no talk about what we’d done.

Once we’d dressed and left the house it was
as if nothing had happened.

I only saw the guys once more. It was at
the same club. They were dancing in Hawaiian shirts and moving in on a couple
of hot looking babes who looked like they might well be the gambling type. I
hope, for their sakes, that they decided to take a chance.

When I met Ed, I thought I’d put all that
behind me.

Ed was wonderful. Tall and handsome in all
the right places if I’m honest. Especially the right places.

His dark hair was always neat and tidy and
never over the collars of the shirts that he wore to his job in a successful
solicitors’ office. The merest mention of his name in a letter often brought
resolution to financial disputes and prevented many a businessman from having
to appear in court.

We had it all, or at least I thought so. I
could see marriage and kids, private schools and lazy lunches rolling ahead in
my future.

Ed didn’t see it in quite the same way.

He loved me, or so he said. He liked me. He
enjoyed my company and thought we might be soul mates. The only thing he wasn’t
sure about was the sex.

2 years of being together brought
familiarity, he said, and familiarity would lead only to contempt.

He had a remedy up his sleeve. Knew some
guys in the office who played some fine games on the first Saturday of every
month.

They hired a country house and took it over
for the night.

When they had all arrived, they put their
car keys into the middle and the women picked them out at random.

“Isn’t that swinging?” I remember asking.

“Yes, I suppose it is,” he said.

I looked him up and down to see if he was
worth it.  I checked the room and the fine paintings on the wall and the plush
carpet we were sitting on to fathom whether they were worth it. I looked out
into the long, tree-lined drive where 2 Mercedes cares gleamed in the sunlight
and decided it was.

When we rolled up at the country house it
was like the opening scenes of the Godfather, the one with the car park full of
limousines, only this scene was from the Twenty-first Century.

When I stepped out into the autumn air and
smelled the dampness of the leaves on the ground I could also smell the wealth
of the people who were staying.

Ed took me into the house as casually as if
we were turning up for a church picnic.

We were greeted by a man dressed in tie and
tails who handed us each a flute of champagne and then we walked through a
great hall into the biggest reception room I’ve ever been in.

There were old paintings and rugs on the
walls, with animals’ heads mounted as trophies and candelabra’s in silver and
gold.

The atmosphere was as bubbly as the wine.

While I took in the antique furniture, I
noticed Ed was eying up the women in the room.

They were all beautiful, without exception.
Pretty young things in tight, designer dresses with long tanned legs and
pearl-white teeth. I was glad I’d worn my 1960s original, the floral print
making me different to all the rest and glad I’d had my teeth polished the day
before.

The taking of the keys was like some kind
of ceremony.

A big man the size of a water buffalo held
up the old punch bowl. The thing must have been hundreds of years old and I
couldn’t believe anyone could be so crass.  He spoke like he was the lord of
the manor with pebbles in his mouth and a stick up his ass.

At the right time, the women stepped
forward in turn, stepping over to the bowl as if they were walking down the
cat-walk.

When they’d made their selections, the man
who owned the key would call out and would take the woman by the hand, leading
her out of the room and to the ornate banisters of the hallway. They’d giggle,
each and every couple, all the way up the stairs to their rooms.

The woman who was taken up by Ed was a
beauty. Sleek legs and long blond hair just the way I reckoned he liked them.
The bastard. Now I knew what he meant by variety being the spice of life.

Well, I decided, I was going to show him.
I’d fuck my man into oblivion and become a legend.

My only worry was that everyone had
disappeared.

I went over and picked a key, then looked
around in case I’d missed something.

“That,” said the water-buffalo, “is mine.”

I tried to smile, but I don’t think I
managed to hide my disappointment.

“Worry not,” he told me. “Like many a
beaten up old banger, what sits under the hood is a mighty engine and a chassis
that many would die for.”

I thought about his chassis. Decided that
anyone with a chassis like his was likely to die of a heart attack at any
moment. It got my hopes up the he might collapse on me before the main event.

I took his hand.  Felt the sweat on his chubby
fingers. Let him lead me to ‘The Bombay Suite’ and followed him in to the room.

It was amazing. There were Indian hunting
scenes on the walls and a four-poster bed in dark wood stood before us.

In front of the bed, a silver ice-bucket, a
bottle of champagne and two glasses.

“Help yourself,” he said, opening the door
to the en-suite. “I’ll be back in a mo’.”

Jesus. It was really happening.

I poured out a glass of bubbly and necked
it in one, then did it again and again. At least the booze might help me
through it.

All I had to do was survive until breakfast
time and all would be well.

Then, like I’d stepped out of reality for a
moment, I saw the buffalo emerge.

How he’d managed to find a leather suit in
his size I couldn’t imagine. Maybe he’d had it especially made, mask and all.

In his hand he swung a thin stick. It
swished in the air making a whistle as it passed my ears.

Next I knew, the stick flew past my eyes in
a blur and whacked me on the buttocks.

It bloody hurt, like the sting of a wasp
without the after-shock.

“Tally-ho,” he said and lifted me from the
ground.

He threw me onto the mattress so that I was
face down.

I wasn’t used to that kind of foreplay. He
had me scared.

I grabbed on to one of the wooden posts and
tried to pull myself up, but he was too quick.

Another slap of the whip on my bottom and I
could feel my dress being lifted.

After the next slap, I felt my panties
being removed.

One more and he was rubbing something into
my ass, something cold and oily.

I buried my head into the pillow. 
“Fucker,” I said into it.

I thought about bailing out. Telling the
fat bastard just what I thought of him. I also thought about what it might mean
to Ed and my life of luxury if I said no – the endless lunches and foreign
travels seemed to disappear in a haze as I considered it.

Instead of bolting for the door, I lifted
my hips from the bed and invited him in.

Luckily for me, he was small in the penis
department.

His cock came at me quick and hard.

After a couple of minutes, I realised I was
actually enjoying myself. The pain of his entry had vanished and had been
replaced by a glow of warmth.

As soon as I started to really enjoy
myself, I felt him buck. Just my luck. So much for his huge engine.

He did it more times than I could count.
What he lacked in stamina, he made up for with enthusiasm. Didn’t touch my
pussy once – I had to do that for myself to keep myself interested – and he
didn’t even get to see my tits.

When I met Ed for breakfast, there were
indents around his wrists.

I looked over for the woman whom he’d spent
the night with and she was smiling right at him as she buttered a slice of
toast. 

She had her legs crossed and I could see
the marks on her ankles. No doubt a little bondage had been their pleasures.

I wondered if Ed had noticed the whip-marks
on the back of my calves, but doubted it. He seemed too busy with his
grapefruit and his gaze fixed upon the model he’d been shagging.

As it turned out, the man I’d drawn didn’t
even work for the firm.

One of the female employees had a partner
who’d bottled out. The water-buffalo was just a keen golfer who had happened to
be playing a round on the estate at the right time.

Of all the bloody luck.

Needless to say, Ed and I didn’t last for
too much longer.

He’s the boss of the firm now and must be
rolling in cash.

I used to wonder whether I’d made the
right decision, dumping him like that.

After last night, I’m sure it was the right
thing. Ed would never have been like that with me. Besides, he hated board
games.

I was single for a long while once Ed had
been chucked. Two years and a little bit.

In that time, I managed to get my life into
a shape I liked.

Sure, it didn’t have all the trimmings, but
I was happy.

My flat fitted me like a glove, which was a
good job because it was almost as small. I’d surrounded myself with beautiful
things – ugliness had to stay in the outside world.

No man had seen it, other than the bloke
who reads the meters and a plumber who fixed a leaky radiator a while ago,
until Roger.

I know, it’s a stupid name, but when I met
him in my local we kind of clicked.

He came back to mine and we danced a
little, then kissed a little, then shagged our asses off until dawn.

Best of all, he still looked hot in the
morning.

His stubble was still sexy and his long,
black hair with plenty of grey streaks made him look cool.  His wiry frame
stretched out under the covers and made him look nice enough to eat.

For the next couple of weeks we got to know
each other really well.  Mostly we played games or did the crosswords. His
company was easy and we could sit for ages working out clues without getting
bored in the slightest.

On Friday night I was giving him a good
thrashing with my word selections. 

The nail in his coffin came with my final
offering. Manly. 3 points for M, 1 apiece for A, N and L with 4 and a double
letter score for the Y to make 8. Throw in the double word score and I’d made
28 points without having to think too hard.

“How about we make tomorrow a little more
interesting,” he suggested.

“More interesting that it is already?”

“By adding a little spice to the game.” And
he went on to explain exactly what he meant.

We came up with the rules together.

For every word scoring more than 50 points,
the scorer could ask the other person to do anything they wanted for 2 minutes.

They could do this for up to 3 occasions.

If the request was turned down, there had
to be a forfeit.

Should the act become too uncomfortable, an
emergency word would get them out of jail free. We chose ‘enough’ as the word –
there didn’t seem any sense in making up something that didn’t mean what it
said.

He went back to his flat after we’d decided
how we were going to play and we had plenty of time to work out our fantasies.

I spent all my Thursday trying to work out
what I could get him to do.

My number one fantasy was out of the
question. That one involved us being kidnapped by hairy men who’d take us to a
basement and tie us to chairs and force us to give them blow jobs. For some
reason, the idea of Roger being helpless and having to suck cock really turned
me on.

The next one was also impossible. That one
involved getting Cheryl to rise from the grave and come and spend the night
with us in a threesome. Just the idea of her nipples had me getting hot under
the collar.

I thought about getting a substitute for
Cheryl. Thing is I don’t know any lesbians and I have no hookers for friends
and wouldn’t know how to get hold of one if I had the spare cash.

In the end, I couldn’t think of anything. I
decided that it might be better to let him do all the high scoring and to
improvise if I had to.

That takes us to Saturday night. Last
night.

Roger arrive with a beaten up leather
hold-all. He put it next to the bed and unzipped his jacket.

The smile on his face told me I was in for
a treat and I was hoping. My only worry was that he hadn’t scored more than 20
points for one word since we’d met.

I put out the wine, set up the board on the
bed and we both took out 7 letters.

It was all pretty quiet for a while. We
were like sparring boxers or poetry-slammers feeling each other out.

I saw my chance when he left me an open j.
‘Enjoy’ was what I put down and left the triple word score wide open and with a
‘y’ to play with to boot.

His grin was huge.

The letters went down slowly and surely.

S, E, C, R, E, T and L. They fitted the Y
perfectly. 

“Secretly,” he told me.  All 7 letters.  A
50 point bonus.