Jennifer's Obsession (2) - Memories

Jennifer’s Obsession

Memories

© 2004 Kayleigh Combstock


She looked in through to Andrew's 'den' as she passed it by, wishing he was in there. Something white stood out against the blackness of the blazer that hung over the back of his computer chair, catching Jennifer's eye. She reversed a little and had another look. I wonder what that is, she thought, as she looked up and down the corridor of rooms. She stepped into his den, tiptoeing - there was no-one else in the house but she always felt 'naughty' going into his den. She quietly leant over, carefully slipping the 'white thing' out from its pocket like a thief. She bit her lip as the paper made a scraping sound against the velvety material that contained it. She looked over her shoulder before she turned her attention to the bits of paper in her hand. She inhaled sharply as her eyes widened, and she started to shake..."Parrrris.." she screamed, quietly. She was holding two tickets for Paris, for this weekend. They'd been there a few times before but Jennifer just loved Paris. As far as she was concerned they could go there every weekend and she'd still get excited about it. She carefully replaced the tickets, still shaking a little, and tiptoed back out of the room. Her normal posture returned the second she got back out into the corridor and she danced her way down to the shower room with Andrew's return dominating her thoughts.

It was an awful start the following morning. The rain was of the fine variety, the stuff that seems to never hit the ground but just hangs about purposely to get you wetter and wetter. Jennifer lazily leant onto the window sill, sometimes looking out on the unfortunate shadowy figures that occasionally zipped by, and sometimes studying the ever-changing paths the rain water would make on its journey down the glass. There was a purpose to what she was doing; it served to make her skin feel like she was rolling about on a pile of furs in front of a roaring open fire. Thank God it’s my day off, she thought, I’ll make myself a nice big mug of coffee, a couple of rounds of toast, snuggle up on the sofa, and do a-b-s-o-l-u-t-e-l-y nothing. Jennifer normally had a session planned at the gym or something similar, as long as it was physical, on her day off; but not today.

She wiped the toast crumbs from her lips, sipped some coffee, and nestled into the sofa for a tough day watching the telly, still in her dressing gown. A dark figure flashed past the window, catching Jennifer’s eye. The letterbox clanged and the hazy humanoid form raced back past the window as if going fast was going to stop them getting wet. Jennifer sighed as she began to drag herself up from the nest she’d made to retrieve the mail when something caught her ear.
‘The average age of a first sexual encounter is decreasing; is this cause for concern and if so, what can and should be done about it?’
Jennifer slipped back into position, the mail can wait, she thought, as she turned her attention to the TV – ‘Tell Tony’, a talk-show, had just begun. Jennifer tapped her leg in time with the theme tune, her mind darting through the images of times past back to her own early days. The length of the journey gave her a shudder, but if anyone asked she was twenty four, and no-one’s ever questioned her on it, yet.

It was a cold Friday night, November the nineteenth to be exact; it was Jennifer’s birthday, her eighteenth birthday. Her parents had gone away for the weekend to some cottage near the coast, at her request. She’d pleaded with them to let her have some friends around for a party at the house; this was the only way she could get them to disappear for the weekend. If she’d told them she was going out to town to celebrate, they would have wanted to be there to make sure she got home safely and at a reasonable hour. Only ‘safe’ and ‘reasonable’ weren’t the words Jennifer had in mind when it came to her eighteenth birthday celebrations. Also, the little black number she’d intended on wearing probably wouldn’t have gone down well with the parents. Anyway, there were no restrictions on where and when Jennifer went, or what she wore, or on what time she should arrive home, if at all – it was all completely up to her.

The night was going great. Jennifer and her friends, for the first time, had been around the pubs and clubs and hadn’t got asked for ID once (they’d spoke about ‘a night on the town’ for ages but had never actually got around to doing it, until now – Jennifer made them all promise, for her birthday). They’d had some fun with a few guys, dancing and flirting, and then moving on to the next ones. Their young, lean, scantily-clad bodies had attracted a considerable amount of attention, some welcome, some not so welcome. The scent of alcohol, cigarette smoke, aftershave, and perfumes mixed with the sounds of laughter, music, and chat-up lines created this whole new and somewhat ‘dangerous’ environment for them. The night wasn’t even over when they were planning their next visit to this ‘new world’, a world where they’d suddenly come of age.

At about two in the morning the town resembled some African plain in migration season – there were herds of animals everywhere, all trying to get to some destination or other. Some of the females were a little unsteady on their feet and would make the perfect prey for a predator, whilst some were bright and happy and for whom the journey would be one of laughing and dancing all the way. Some of the males had collapsed completely and were destined to wake up, if they were lucky, abandoned and desolate having missed the migration; some were wide-eyed and alert and whom were going to make the journey in good time and led the way; and some seemed to have lost all control of their minds and were fleeting from violent boisterousness one minute to a mellow over-friendliness the next, and didn’t seem to belong to the migration at all, they just wandered about in some sort of inebriated limbo. Jennifer and her mates belonged to the bright and happy herd.

As Jennifer, Joe, Charlotte, and Cheryl neared the growing queue for the fast-track migration route, the taxi office, there was a smash of glass followed by some shouting and hollering. Then another smash, this time followed by a rumble of boots. Suddenly the queue began to disperse like shrapnel from an explosion. Jennifer was ushered along in the chaos, her heart pounding. Men, big and small, were wrestling, shouting, fighting, screaming. Some women joined in, leaping on the backs of men like cats who were too brave for their own good, whilst others tottered about blindly in their heels, shrieking. Within minutes blue lights were flashing and some of the herd were being captured and thrown into cages in the backs of vans. The shouting, and screaming, and tussling continued. There were people running in all directions, desperate to evade capture. More ‘trappers’ arrived. Caught up in the panic and despite her high heels, Jennifer ran, and ran, and ran. It was about fifteen minutes before she regained her senses. She found herself working her way through a maze of streets desperate to get home with only the echo of her stilettos to keep her company. Shit, I wonder if Joe, Charlotte, and Cheryl got away, she wondered, cursing herself and her friends for having decided to leave their mobile phones at home through fear of losing them, and wasn’t as if they were going to need them, was it?

Her mind raced as she hurried toward home. If they’ve got locked up, or God forbid, hurt…oh Christ, Dad’s going to go mad, I know he is…. Her thoughts were interrupted when a hooded figure appeared dead ahead. A man, she was sure, at the far end of the street was walking directly toward her. She eyed him, trying to get some clue as to his intentions. Her heart rate started to increase again making her feel a little woozy, or it could have been the alcohol, or maybe a combination of both.

Is he on his way home? Or is he out on the prowl for some defenceless young lady stupid enough to be walking home alone at gone two in the morning? Fucking hell Jen…

Just then, a car screeched to a halt alongside her. She couldn’t see very well, it was a poorly lit street, but there was definitely one guy driving and one guy sat in the back. The hooded man continued toward her. She could feel herself starting to shake a little. Don’t stop for anything, don’t talk, just keep on going, she thought as she fixed her attention on her feet, almost too afraid to look up. Her stride had become a little unsteady. The rear door of the car swung open. “A lift home luv?” a voice said, gruffly. She didn’t reply; she couldn’t. Head still bowed, she began crossing the street to avoid the hooded man. An arm slammed down in front of her and yanked her off balance, dragging her toward the car. She instinctively struggled with her attacker, wriggling, kicking, biting, and losing her little black hand-bag in the process. The hooded figure was racing toward her. Jennifer gritted her teeth in readiness to kick the hooded man right where it hurts, but he stopped just short of her reach and pulled his hood down.

“Leave the lady alone,” he said, with a Japanese accent. The sense of relief made Jennifer’s body go limp. Her attacker released his grip on her and she almost fell to the floor.
“You looking for trouble, Jap?” he growled.

Jennifer scurried, backwards, through the gateway of someone’s house, desperate to knock the door for help but at the same time compelled to see the outcome.
“No trouble Mr., just leave the lady,” he ordered.

Jennifer’s attacker lunged at him with his fist. The Jap sidestepped and struck back with a blow to the body, clinically dropping his opponent immediately. “No trouble Mr.” he said again, with his fists in the air like a boxer now. The car roared off down the street, leaving his comrade stranded in a cloud of exhaust fumes that hung heavy around him like an aura, and an appropriate one at that – poisonous and choking. The attacker scrambled to his feet, backing off as he did. He looked at the Jap who was poised like a cobra about to strike, looked fleetingly at Jennifer, and turned and ran. Jennifer watched him disappear around a street corner before breaking into a whimper. Her protector quietly picked her hand-bag up from the frosty slabs that made the pavement and held it out to her. He didn’t want to approach her; he wasn’t sure of her state of mind, what with recent events. Jennifer delicately shuffled out from the garden, snivelling a little, and softly took her bag from him. He unzipped his hooded jacket, shrugged it off, and placed it over Jennifer’s now freezing shoulders. She leaned into his chest, and sobbed.

A quarter of an hour later and her new-found student friend ‘Ken’ was just about to say goodbye, what with Jennifer arriving safely at her destination. “The least I can do is make you a nice, hot mug of coffee,” Jennifer insisted, determined to show her gratitude.
“Okay Jennifer,” Ken responded in that accent of his as she pushed the large panelled door open. She smiled as she led him inside, wiping her reddened, but still pretty, blue eyes as she went.

Jennifer replayed the evening’s events as she set about making the coffee. How it could have so easily been so different if it weren’t for Ken. I could have been raped, or murdered even, she thought, and to think I almost kicked my saviour in the nuts. She smiled, and began to imagine what Ken’s ‘nuts’ would look like. She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol, the fright she’d had, or perhaps she was just wondering about how best to show her gratitude….maybe, she thought. She suddenly stopped what she was doing. I’m going to do it with him. Jennifer’s eyes widened at the realisation, as if it weren’t really her that had made the decision. She looked down at her nipples as she stirred the coffee – they were hard, and she began to feel a little flushed.

What shall I do? Sit by him and show him a bit of leg? Kiss him? Ask him? No! Ask him if he wants to stay over? It is late to be going home I suppose, she thought, carrying the coffees into the living-room. She’d developed butterflies in her stomach now and her pussy felt like she’d been masturbating. She wondered if Ken would notice; it was impossible for him to do so but she worried about it nonetheless. She placed his coffee on the little mahogany table in front of where he was sat. “Thank you Jennifer,” he said without looking at her.
“No, thank you Ken, for what you did,” she said, stood in front of the rather grand-looking fireplace, sneakily sliding her black dress up high on her thighs as she placed her coffee on the mantle piece. “Come,” she ordered, beckoning him to her with her hand. Her dress had ridden up so high you could almost see her pubic hair – she wasn’t wearing any underwear as a result of a bet she and her friends had made earlier that evening.

Ken, curious and not wanting to offend her, rose from the cream-coloured leather sofa and approached her. She took him by the hand as he neared, opening her legs a little at the same time. As he stepped up to her she pushed his hand, palm toward her, hard between her legs. She couldn’t believe what she’d just done, but it felt good, real good. The coldness of his hand contrasted deeply to the warmth of her wholesome mound. Ken’s slit-like eyes widened as far as was possible, and his mouth dropped open. She rubbed his hand, hard, up and down her crotch, her pussy lips partially opening and closing as it went. She frightened herself a little, being so bold. She looked him in his well opened eyes, looked at her breasts, and with her other hand peeled her strapless dress down to her waist. Ken was greeted with two, perfectly formed, pert, eighteen-year-old breasts, nipples pointing out hard at him. It was lucky Ken wasn’t this fearful when the attackers struck, she thought, feeling quite proud of her display. “I’m going to show you how grateful I am,” she said, licking her lips as her glazed, blue eyes narrowed.

She gradually let go of his hand but it continued to rub her pussy. She even felt one of his fingers trying to find its way into her. She wanted to see his cock but was nervous about going for it – she’d never handled one before. With his other hand Ken ran his finger over one of her nipples, almost as if he’d never touched one before. Jennifer swallowed and took a deep breath before going for his jeans. As she fumbled with his button and zip she couldn’t help but feel a swelling. Just then a finger slipped into her making her jump a little. She started to breathe again as she let herself experience the feeling before continuing with his jeans. As she unbuttoned him she thought about what she’d heard, ‘ Japanese have little willies’. Suits me, I haven’t had one before, she thought. She bit her lip and closed her eyes for a second as she felt his finger probe deep inside her. As Ken began to ‘feel at home’ Jennifer tentatively unzipped him as if she were opening a jack-in-the-box. It got a little tight, then, zip! It shot down whilst at the same time a Japanese cock sprang up, and bounced a little before coming to rest at about a seventy to eighty degree angle from the floor. Jennifer grinned. It was no ‘jumbo sausage’ but it was no ‘chipolata’ either. Jennifer’s ideas about Japanese cock had now been filed in her brain under myth. She was temporarily oblivious at what Ken was doing to her at this moment; she was entranced by his cock. Ken continued to work her pussy, and was squeezing her left breast hard now, sometimes pinching at her nipple. She reached out slowly and touched the tip of him with one finger and quickly pulled it back, just as if she were checking to see if something’s hot or not. Realising it wasn’t going to hurt her, she touched him with several fingers now, squeezing it and moving it around to watch it spring back into position. She smiled at him, turned back to his cock, and took a good hard grip. Ken pursed his lips, sighing. Jennifer noticed how he seemed to sigh in Japanese, finding it odd. She felt his finger stop working and wriggled a little as if to tell him to continue – he seemed to understand. She watched him closely as she began to wank him, to make sure it was okay; it was. She stepped up closer to him, holding his cock to her pussy as she rubbed up against him. They both quietly sighed in synchrony, repeatedly.

Jennifer took a moment to concentrate on the feeling of having a cock so close to being inside her for the first time – she’d had fingers up there but never a cock, a hard, throbbing cock. Her pussy had become so, so sensitive to the slightest touch now. She even thought she might wet herself.

Ken gripped her fresh, firm buttocks and pulled her hard against him, hoping by some chance it may just slip in. He felt his erection slide up over her wet, swollen mound, bristling over her neatly trimmed bush. Jennifer’s head tilted back and she groaned as her lips pulled open and then flapped back into place as his cock easily missed its target. This was a virgin pussy; it wasn’t going to go in that easy, although Ken probably wouldn’t believe it if she’d told him, not based on how things had developed. Realising his first attempt at docking was unsuccessful Ken started to kiss her neck, working his way down to those fresh, pert breasts. Jennifer felt her nipple catch on his chin and then suddenly spring free, landing snugly in his mouth. He sucked like a hungry baby. She subtly changed positions with Ken; her facing the fireplace and Ken with his back to it, and having her nipple sucked and softly bitten all-the-while.

She looked into the large, Victorian mirror (a family heirloom) that hung over the fireplace to see this man, whom she barely knew, helping himself to her young, up to now, unsullied body. She felt bad, and it made her feel good. Ken started to breathe heavier, and his hands and mouth moved and worked with more urgency. He was squeezing her buttocks, sucking at her breasts, rubbing her pussy, fucking it every so often with his fingers. Jennifer just stared into the mirror, motionless, watching this man desecrate her body and soaking up the pleasure like a sponge to water.

She wanted to go down on him because the thought of it was just so naughty, but she couldn’t. Determined not to be outdone she did the next best thing. Jennifer sat back into the sofa and picked her legs up into the air. With her fingers she held her pussy wide open, showing off her untainted, pink inner lips. Ken dropped to his knees between her legs, took a hold of his cock, and tried to aim it home. Jennifer quickly placed her hands over her pussy, shaking her head. Ken felt as if he’d won the lottery and promptly died before having the chance to spend it. Jennifer reached out for his cock, giving it several quick tugs to reassure him all is well, followed by poking her tongue out at him. Jennifer felt the message hit home through her hand as his cock rose back to full strength, bringing a smile back to both their faces. She let him go and he leaned over her body, kissing the silky skin of her breasts. She could feel his breath tickle her as he mouthed his way downwards. As he got nearer, Jennifer could feel a definite swelling between her legs. The closer he got to her pussy, the more sensitive she became to his kisses. The more they did, the more she wanted to do. It was like feeding a demon and the more he was fed, the more he would plague her with a yearning, a yearning for more wanton pleasures from the dark side until eventually, you no longer feed him, he consumes you!

Only moments later Ken’s face was between her legs. Ken paused for a moment and looked up, as if to say ‘get ready’. Jennifer looked down and held herself open to him. Just the weight of his breath on her exposed interior almost took her over the edge. Ken slowly pressed his facial lips onto her genital ones, at the same time gripping her breasts as if he were on a cliff ledge. Something special was happening. Jennifer started to writhe. Then a fleshy, warm object started to journey inside her. He’s got his tongue inside me, inside me! she thought. “Oh my god,” Jennifer cried, grabbing Ken tightly by the hair and thrusting her pelvis so hard at him she thought she might swallow him up it weren’t for her virgin pussy being so tight. Her legs began to kick in the air as if she were running, her stilettos sometimes coming dangerously close to piercing Kens back. Ken let loose with his tongue – it penetrated her, licked her, pleasured her, fucked her. Kens tongue moved with the speed of a humming-bird’s wings. Jennifer had never known nothing like it. “Ahhhhhhhhhh,” she cried before her legs fell limp over Ken’s shoulders and her arms flailed out at her sides. Ken stole a look at her face as he began to slow his tongue work down to a gentle kiss and lick, alternating. Her face looked almost dead but her half-opened eyes suggested she’d just been given a bolus dose of the best pleasure drug in the world.

Seconds later, Jennifer sprang upright, biting her bottom lip, and with a glint of wickedness in her eye. Ken backed off a little, but still between her legs. She opened her mouth and pointed into it with her index finger. There was no misunderstanding. Ken leapt to his feet, his face not like the cat who got the cream, but like a guy who’s just about to fuck the mouth of a beautiful young virgin. The word ‘hard’ wouldn’t have done Ken’s cock justice. Jennifer took him in her hand pulling his foreskin back to reveal an enormously swollen helmet. With her other hand she set about pulling his trousers right down, a task Ken was happy to help with. Task complete, Jennifer placed her pouting lips only inches from his pulsing member, and quickly glanced around the room. Imagine if mam and dad could see their ‘little girl’ now, she thought. Her head bowed a little as if in shame, just as she naughtily closed her mouth over his engorged tip. Ken rested his hands on top of the brunette hair of her head. She wasn’t entirely sure what to do now so she slid up and down his shaft trying desperately to tickle his length with her tongue as it ran in and out of her pretty mouth – he seemed to be enjoying it. Ken made some sort of ‘Japanese’ sound as his buttocks clenched tight whilst thrusting deep into the back of Jennifer’s mouth. Jennifer froze as she felt a warm fluid hit the back of her throat. Another Japanese-type sound escaped from Ken’s mouth. She quickly retreated off his cock and almost without thinking, fiercely wanked at his cock, letting the love juice, imported from the Far East, fly messily about her face. She felt Ken’s knees weaken and thought he was going to collapse, but he didn’t. She tried hard to milk him a little more by slapping his cock onto her tongue, rubbing it on her face, and squeezing at his cock – she was a natural. Moments later Ken more pr less collapsed onto the sofa beside her with Jennifer still holding his cock – she wasn’t done with it yet. They just led there, both of them silenced by the pleasure chemicals bathing their brains.

Not much time had passed when the hand that held Ken’s now limp cock started to move – she was yet to feel a cock inside her and her pussy, now with the appetiser out of the way, was ready for the main course. She hoped Ken hadn’t raced ahead and already ate dessert. Ken turned to face her and licked his lips. Jennifer felt his cock begin to fill her hand. She took a moment to look at herself – slouched back into the sofa with nothing on but a ruffled-up dress placed around her waist like a belt, her legs were spread wide with her pussy on full view, there was a man’s manifestation of sexual satisfaction on her face and hair, she was holding a cock like one of those girls in a porno, oh, and as she stretched her left leg out horizontally she noticed she still had her stilettos on. She had trouble believing what she was seeing, but how she felt confirmed it must be right - she felt dirty, naughty, wicked even, and all she could think about was having someone fuck her, hard and long.

Ken rolled over onto his side, his hand clasping tightly onto Jennifer’s vacant mound as he did so. Jennifer raised her pelvis into his hand, wondering what it must feel like to have a cock sliding in and out of her. A finger slipped into her, giving her some idea. She thought, but it’s not just the physical feeling, is it? It’s the thought of some guy entering you, fucking you, taking you, deflowering you, penetrating your purity with a rod of evil, defiling you, violating all that is sacred…. She suddenly noticed she was fucking Ken’s finger instead of the other way around, and continued.

Ken was hard again, but not like earlier. It’ll come, she thought, envisioning herself being taken like some medieval bride, although the ’taker’ would be a Samurai in this case. Jennifer rose to her feet and released Ken’s cock, although Ken maintained his hold on her pussy. “Let’s go to bed,” she said. Ken got to his feet, gave Jennifer’s pussy a little squeeze, and pulled his trousers up but left his cock pointing out horizontally. Jennifer smiled at his piece, turned, and led the way. As they climbed the stairs Jennifer could feel Ken’s eyes burning on her uncovered, firm behind and wiggled it that little bit more. Ken didn’t notice any of the family photos that hung on the walls of the stairway.

Jennifer’s bedroom was a typical girlie one, all flowery and pink – you could just make it out from the moonlight that flooded in through the tall, panelled window. What appeared to be beauty products littered the furniture as did cuddly toys, but there did seem to be an air of maturity about the place, for a just-turned eighteen-year-old that is. Jennifer glanced out from the window and was greeted by the brilliant full moon with its accompanying stars strewn recklessly across the ink-black autumn sky. She glanced downwards to catch a glimpse of the frost that coated the garage roof; it twinkled in the moonbeams like glitter. Jennifer at last stripped herself of the ‘belt’ she was wearing. Ken, following her lead, quickly stripped himself and stood there like a boxer waiting for the bell to sound. Jennifer eyed Ken up and down; the moonlight drew quite a picture. His build was fairly slight but exceedingly well proportioned, and his muscles were very well-toned. She began to imagine him on her, his vice-like grip holding her down…”Ken, you go out of the room for a moment, then I want you to come in, and fucking fuck me,” Jennifer snarled, trying to reinforce what she was saying with hand gestures. “Okay,” Ken replied, nodding his head rapidly and then running for the door.

Jennifer led out on the bed, making a point of noticing how the cotton beneath her felt on her bare skin. She spread her legs and reached her arms out to her sides before changing her mind and moving her arms to directly above her where she could grip the wooden balusters of the headboard. She imagined herself being tethered, helpless, to the bed with her opened legs giving her a sense of undeniable vulnerability. (Jennifer’s strict upbringing had firmly attached the words sex, and disgraceful, together with an unbreakable link, but if she were helpless to prevent fornication taking place then surely it must be he that is disgraceful and Jennifer, merely an innocent victim of someone’s uncontrollable carnal desires.)

The bedroom door swung open and a shadowy figure approached. As he neared, the moonlight cast shadows on his taut body giving him the appearance of being chiselled from granite. This is it, Jennifer thought, the anxiety making her close her legs a little.

She hoped he would be gentle, like in the films, but then the thought of getting fucked like some dirty, no-good slut seemed a better alternative. Her pussy suddenly felt more fleshy, making her legs open a little. Ken led beside her, sliding his one leg underneath hers and his other leg over it. She could feel his ‘bits’ on her thigh. With his fingers he stroked her one arm. Jennifer watched him, the moment of penetration dominating her mind. His fingers made their way down over her breast, circled her nipple, down her belly, and onto the inners of her thighs.

Jennifer tightened her grip on the balusters, convinced she was helpless. Suddenly Ken rolled onto her. Jennifer flinched a little and her breathing deepened. Ken nuzzled between her legs, his cock laying over her pussy. Jennifer opened her legs a little wider, lifting her knees up in the air a little in readiness to receive his sinful gift. She turned her head to one side as Ken tried to kiss her. Puzzled, Ken tugged at her arms; they wouldn’t budge. “Games?” Ken said in a way that didn’t warrant an answer. Jennifer closed her eyes tightly as she felt his hand slide down between them, to his cock. She could feel the tip of it probing about at her lips, partially thrusting forward every so often, seeking its destination. His cock had regained its initial vigour of earlier now; it was hard. She writhed about a little as some sort of token gesture to resisting pleasures of the flesh. It helped – Ken slipped an inch or so into her. She felt herself peel open, and froze. Ken stopped for a second, and then steadily thrust into her stiff body. She felt every inch, and there were at least six, slide in and fill her up. As their pubic bones met, her body went limp with relief – she had a cock buried deep in her and nothing bad had happened, or so she thought.

Ken looked down on her as he slid in and out a few times, his face a picture of supreme dominance. Jennifer concentrated on the feeling of being fucked for the first time. The more she thought of herself being fucked, the wetter she got. Ken sensed the new ease with which he penetrated her. He quickly got off her and flipped her over onto her belly, pinning her down with his one hand on her upper back. His other hand guided his cock into her from behind. Jennifer, wide-eyed, lifted her pussy a little to assist access.

This time Ken hammered into her so hard it forced Jennifer’s mouth open. She reached for the balusters again but missed this time; he was in and out and back in again so quick and so hard, she didn’t have chance to get a grip. He placed his hands on the top of hers, putting his weight on her – she didn’t have to pretend now, she really was helpless.

Ken started to pound her brutally and with the same speed he’d worked his tongue on her earlier. Jennifer was getting fucked, really fucked. Ken groaned louder and louder, as did the slapping of bare flesh. His cock seemed harder still as it steamed in and out of her, piston-like. She tried to move but couldn’t. Her helplessness seemed to make her pussy more welcoming to Ken’s plundering cock. He drilled into her wilder still. Her mound engorged like she’d never known before. She could feel his breath on the back of her shoulder, hear his growls of pleasure grow, and grow, and grow. His grip tightened on her and his cock struck deeper into her and deeper still. She couldn’t move – she tried but couldn’t. He was having his way with her, fucking her, holding her down and fucking her. Jennifer started to cry out “no, you dirty fucker, what’re you doing to me?” He fucked her more still. The bliss of filth filled her pussy with feeling; she was cumming. Ken’s superlative, forceful rhythm continued. Jennifer’s taut body spread on the bed, paralysed, under the order of ecstasy that for now, ruled her. “Ohhhh, fuck, fucking fuck, fuck,” she cried as Ken continued to ‘defile’ her. She was oblivious to what Ken might be doing, she didn’t care – he was, at this moment, filling her up. Moments later, Ken flopped onto her and gradually rolled off, their union making a squelching sound as it came undone. Young Jennifer lay belly down and limp, barely conscious, and genuinely fucked for the first time – she could die now for all she cared at this particular point. The proof of fornication leached out onto the sheet beneath.

Jennifer slowly opened her eyes, the light of day stinging them a little. The theme tune to ‘Tell Tony’ was playing again – it was the ending, she’d missed the show. The first thing she noticed was her gown; it barely covered her. She tried to sit herself up on the sofa but there was something between her legs. She looked down to see a banana, half inside her.
“Memories….” she whispered to herself, smiling as she flopped back into the sofa, leaving the banana where it was.

She eventually dragged herself back to reality. Sex, she thought, no matter what race, religion, whatever the differences, the prospect of sex seems to….. strip them all away. I can’t think of anything else with the same power…..except perhaps money……and that’s the root of all evil. Mmm….she sighed, pensively.

She removed the banana, put right her gown, and went to fetch the mail, disposing of the banana as she went. It was a letter for Andrew, not that she’d noticed – her ‘recollection’ had temporarily slighted her ability to concentrate. As she returned to the living room she tore open the letter, wondering what had become of Ken after all these years – she’d never seen him again after that night, and she liked it that way. She stopped at the window; it was still raining. Probably married to some pretty little Japanese girl, couple of kids, the usual thing I expect, she thought as she glanced down at the letter. She went cold and her stomach felt as if she’d just been disembowelled by a medieval executioner.


XXX

Next week – Paying the Price

© 2004 Kayleigh Combstock