A Pendant for Wendy

Vince glanced to his right, looking down the corridor, checking no one was there to hear him speak.

He looked at Wendy and raised the cup he carried in his left hand. "It's okay. Mum asked me to bring you a coffee." He took a step inside the bedroom and then hesitated. "I need to talk to you, Wendy," Vince added. "About last night."

Wendy closed her eyes and shook her head. "No, Vince, please. Don't."

She kept her eyes squeezed shut, as though by denying his presence he wouldn't really be there. But the ostrich tactic didn't work. Wendy heard Vince's feet moving over the carpet. She heard the thunk of the cup on the bedside table.

"Wendy," Vince murmured.

She opened her eyes and blinked up at him.

"I can't stop thinking about it, Wendy," Vince said. He threw another worried look at the door. "You touched me. You ... you ... you did it to me. You touched my cock, Wendy. And you let me touch you. We kissed. I ... I did it all over you. And the things you said and what you did in front of me..."

Vince heaved a heavy sight, a huge exhalation that came all the way up from his toes.

"...Seeing you do that, with my stuff all over you..." Vince shook his head, gulping, with his eyes wide and fixed on Wendy's face. "It was the sexiest thing I've ever seen or done, Wendy. I want to do it again. I want to do more."

Wendy's eyes closed again. She should never have allowed the scene in the kitchen to occur. What she should have done was smile, thank Vince graciously for the pendant gift and then politely but firmly refused it. Going to his room had been a huge error, a mistake of Olympic proportions, and a moment of weak-willed madness that most definitely should have been avoided.

As for what happened, what she'd done, the acts she'd been complicit in...

If Marian ever found out...

"Vince, darling," Wendy said, her voice low. "We can't. We just can't ever do anything like it again. It was great," she added, meaning it, "but the damage would be too much to cope with. Your mum's my best friend. She's my oldest, dearest friend, Vince. She's helped me through some hideous times -- when my own mum died, my divorce..."

Vince's head dropped forward. His chin went to his chest, his shoulders slumped.

"You're just so fucking lovely," he said, voice creaking. Vince heaved another sigh. "Can I see you again?" he mumbled with a half-shrug. "Your boobs, Wendy? Can I look at them again? Just once more, please?"

Wendy's fingers tightened on the bedcover. She pulled the quilt higher, protectively up to her throat, her finger brushing over the pendant.

"I'm hard for you, Wendy," Vince mewled, his face twisted with desperation. He rubbed a palm against the front of his jeans. "That's what you do to me. I just think about you, about what we did last night, that's all it takes and I'm stiff."

"Vince, no," Wendy said, her tone a warning. "Don't."

"Can I just see your boobs, Wendy? Please."

He reached for the cover, one hand at the bulge in his jeans.

"Please, Wendy," Vince hissed, his eyes glistening, jaw clenched.

Wendy was taken by surprise, unprepared for Vince's determined tug at the quilt. She hadn't thought he would actually do anything so rash.

"No," she blurted.

But it was too late, her breasts were exposed and Vince was staring at her.

For a moment they stayed like that, a tableau frozen in time. Wendy lay there, immobile while Vince stood at the side of the bed, his eyes fixed on the prize.

It was his expression that did it. When Wendy stared up at Vince she saw such a burning hunger in his eyes, the desire for her so immediately apparent that Wendy experienced a reciprocal burst of lust. Suddenly, without warning, the madness descended.

"You've seen them," Wendy said, her voice thick and glutinous. "My breasts, Vince. Take a good look."

"Wendy," Vince sighed, eyes bulging. "Fuck ... You're gorgeous."

"You should go now, Vince," Wendy added. But she didn't really mean it. Not at that moment, not with desire rushing through her, molten lust siping from her opening. Wendy shifted on the bed, the movement reminding her the dildo was still wedged inside her.

She acted without thinking about it. The risk of discovery and the consequences melted away. Wendy looked up at Vince and watched his face as she said, "You've seen my breasts, Vince ... Now, what about this?"

Vince boggled, his jaw falling slack, eyes bulging even further when he looked at that place between Wendy's legs and saw what he saw.

"Wendy, I ... You," Vince gabbled. He blinked and blew out his cheeks and glanced around at the bedroom door.

"I was wanking when you knocked, Vince," Wendy said. "I was thinking about how you came all over me and using this." She eased the dildo from her body and held it up for Vince to stare at.

Vince's mouth worked, opening and closing several times before he managed an inarticulate croak.

"Do you want to watch me fuck myself with this, Vince?" said Wendy.

Vince nodded, slack jaw wobbling as he continued to gaze at the latex cock.

"Yes please," he mumbled.

The dildo waggled in Wendy's fist as she shook it, a deliberate provocation intended to enflame Vince.

"All right then," Wendy grinned. She threw a look at the open door. "But not yet," she added. "Later ... When we get the chance."

"But..." Vince gasped.

"We can't, Vince," Wendy said, interrupting the blurted protest. "Not with people around." She slid the ridged shaft of the dildo against her clit, wincing and groaning, tempted to throw caution to the wind.

"Fuck, Wendy," muttered Vince, his hand pawing at himself again. "That's so fucking sexy. Do it again, please."

Wendy considered the lewd request for a second, running the scene through in her mind. She could see herself sliding the rubber cock-head into her opening, legs wide so Vince could watch. In her head she imagined Vince hauling his hard-on out of his jeans, his fist working at it while he stared at her.

It was close to being a reality, so near to the point where Wendy succumbed, but a bump from deeper in the house snapped her back to the immediate.

"Later, Vince," hissed Wendy. "I think Daniel's coming." She shooed at him again, waving her arm as she yanked the cover up. "Not now. Another time. When we're alone. Thanks for the coffee, Vince," added Wendy, voice raised, exaggerated for the benefit of her son who came bounding along the landing. "Tell your mum I'm getting up. I'm just going to sip this coffee and then have a shower. Hello, Danny!" Wendy trilled when Daniel halted outside her door. "Did you sleep well?"

**

What was left of that Boxing Day morning dragged for Vince. The 26th of December passed with an interminable crawl as far as he was concerned. His head was filled with what had occurred, the unbelievable scene in his bedroom the night before and the sight of that dildo just hanging there between Wendy's legs that morning. Vince couldn't concentrate, constantly distracted by what he'd seen and heard and done, the promise of more to come pushing any other thoughts from his mind.

The everyday part of Vince, the moving and talking and interacting with other people part operated automatically, he acted without thinking. Several times he found himself in the middle of something he had no recollection of starting. On one occasion he suddenly woke up, like being finger-snapped out of a trance by some stage hypnotist to find himself in front of the kitchen counter, kettle boiling away. Vince blinked and stared around like an idiot until the dim recollection surfaced that he was brewing tea for his dad. All he could think about was Wendy and what she'd suggested would happen in the future. Something thrilling and very exciting to look forward to, better than Christmas, but the problem, so frustrating for Vince, was there was no fixed date or time. All he had was a vague reference to later, when they were alone, but with it being the holiday season there were no guarantee that situation might occur. Even worse, Vince realised, was that Wendy and Daniel were due to go home two days hence. They were returning to Scotland for the New Year, Hogmanay, so what if the opportunity never arose.

Vince was also concerned by Wendy's propensity to vacillate. What if she changed her mind, again? She blew hot and cold, often mentioning his mother and how they couldn't do anything. But then she'd swing the other way and get all hot and bothered and turn suddenly mad for it.

"Shit," Vince muttered as he poured milk into his father's tea. What if Wendy left without them having the chance to be alone? What if she had another attack of the morals?

Vince carried the mug of steaming tea into the living room. His father thanked him but Vince didn't really hear, he was too busy fretting over the potential for the chance to be with Wendy -- properly with her -- to pass him by.

The rest of the morning passed in a similar fugue, everyone else -- with perhaps the exception of Wendy -- enjoying the festivities. Leftovers for lunch preceded the long drag of the afternoon. Vince drank four cans of Stella while he stared at the television, loathing his own family because their presence meant he had no chance with Wendy.

Afternoon turned to evening, the milky December sunshine abruptly diminished by the time the clock showed the hour of four. The fairy lights twinkled on the tree, radiator warmth made the house comfortable, a lamp in the corner of the living room bathed the place in a soft glow, and Vince's father seemed well entrenched in his armchair as he stared at the television.

Dean started it off. He was sitting on the sofa, Daniel next to him, an elbow wedged against the armrest, cheek on his fist, the epitome of post-Christmas boredom. Wendy sat on the opposite end of the three-seater sofa from Dean while Marian was in an armchair, one of the two that matched the settee, the other occupied by Jim, her husband.

"Can I go around to Simon's?" Dean asked. "He's got the new Playstation. Can I go and see what it's like?"

"What time will you be home?" Marian responded, turning her face to her youngest son.

Dean shrugged. "Ten?" he suggested, hopeful.

Marian pouted, considering. Then she nodded. "Yes, all right. But can Daniel go too? He's as bored as you are."

Dean looked dubious for a moment. He was about to protest but decided to be generous since he was allowed to stay out until ten o'clock. He shrugged and said, "Sure. Why not?" He looked at Daniel. "Coming?" he asked.

The two boys left after Wendy agreed to the timings.

"What about us?" Vince's father asked. He rubbed his hands together and smirked at his wife. "How about a drink down at the Red Lion? Get out of the house for a bit?"

That was the moment Vince entered. He'd been upstairs in his room, hoping that Wendy would pay a visit. A plan thwarted.

"What's up?" said Vince, his usual greeting rather than a proper question.

"Your dad's on about going for a drink at the Red Lion," Marian replied. "What about it, Vince? Do you fancy a pint?"

Before Vince could reply, he heard Wendy interject.

"Why don't you and Jim go out," she suggested. "Just the two of you." She threw a look at Vince. "Spend a bit of time together," she added. "We'll be okay here, won't we, Vince?"

Vince struggled to maintain a calm exterior. Excitement swelled in his chest, his penis thickened instantly. He gulped and nodded.

"Oh yeah," shrugged Vince, attempting to appear nonchalant, making out he didn't have a care. He nodded at the television. "I'll be okay with a couple of cans and whatever's on telly."

Marian frowned.

"Oh, we couldn't go out and leave you in, Wendy," she said. "You're a guest. It wouldn't be right."

A leaden sinker of disappointment dropped into Vince's stomach.

But then he heard Wendy say, "After all these years, Marian?" She chuckled and waved Marian's protest away. "You don't have to worry about me. Vince can keep me entertained."

Vince couldn't look at Wendy, not after that oblique reference to carnal delights.

He willed his mother to acquiesce. He was desperate to get his parents out of the house.

Then he remembered his brother and Daniel.

"Gone out," he was informed by his mother. "Round at Simon's. Some new game thing or whatever. Won't be in till ten." Marian looked at Wendy and then turned to her husband. "What about it, Jim? Me and you, at the pub?"

Vince's stomach flipped when his father nodded and heaved himself out of the arm chair.

**

Vince looked at Wendy after the front door banged shut.

She sat on the edge of the seat, knees together, hands clasped over the twin saucers of the patella.

"Turn the television off, Vince," said Wendy.

"Now what?" asked Vince, his tremulous voice matching his trembling hands.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" Wendy fixed Vince with an appraising stare, her eyebrows arched.

Vince gulped. "Yes," he mumbled. "But..."

"Nervous?" said Wendy, rising to her feet.

Vince swallowed again, nodding.

"Well, Vince," Wendy said as she took a pace towards him. "So am I. I'm worried about where this is going to go. I'm shit scared your mother will find out and hate me." She moved closer, her stare never leaving Vince's creased, frowning countenance. "But," she added, "I can't help myself. No matter how much I tell myself I shouldn't be doing this, I can't stop it."

Wendy stopped less than a foot from where Vince stood. He gasped when she placed a cupped hand against the front of his jeans.

"Where do you want to do it?" Wendy breathed.

Vince burst into action. He toed the heels of his training shoes off, scraping the back of them down impatiently, eager to get out of his clothes. His fingers scrabbled at his belt and the button of his jeans before he pushed them halfway down his thighs.

Then, with his cock jutting up to tent his boxer shorts, the hard-on slipping through the vent, Vince reached for Wendy, fingers tugging at the elastic waistband of her tracksuit bottoms.

"Take your clothes off," Wendy snarled, Vince's ardour infecting her. "I'll be back."

Vince hopped around, yanking off his socks, almost stumbling into the Christmas tree in his haste. He pulled his jeans off, peeling his jumper and tee-shirt off in one lump.

He hurried into the kitchen and opened the fridge, reaching inside for a can of beer. Vince popped the tab and drank, great swallows working in his throat while footsteps sounded from the floor above.

Vince took the can into the living room, arriving just as Wendy returned.

"Fuck," Vince muttered when he saw she was naked.

"I brought a towel," said Wendy. "Let me sit on it," she added, spreading the gaudy orange and red beach towel across the settee. Wendy smoothed out the wrinkles one-handed out of necessity because of the dildo clamped in her other fist. "There," she said, turning. "Give me a sip of that beer and we can get to it."

Vince handed over the can, watching while Wendy took a deep draught. Then he stared at her as she returned the can to him, with Wendy sitting on the sofa, legs going wide.

"If we're going to do this," she muttered, one hand cupping a heavy breast, "then we're going to do it properly. I want you to watch me use this on myself, Vince. You watch me fuck my pussy with this, and no wanking from you. Don't touch your cock. Just watch me and then I'll suck you and wank you and..." Wendy paused, gasping and wincing as she split the folds of her sex with the shaft of the dildo. "...And then we can fuck, Vince. We can fuck tonight and then, maybe, if you're any fucking good, perhaps you could come back to Scotland with me. We can fuck the New Year in. How would you like that?"

"Oh my God," Vince gasped.

And then he watched as Wendy pushed the head of the dildo at her opening, muttering to himself with disbelief as her body accommodated the thing, her cunt hot and scarlet and stretched around its girth.

Vince stood there, staring at a sight he'd never experienced before. It was lewd, it was obscene, but it was the single most thrilling event of his life.

"Put the can down," Wendy muttered. She was looking up at him through eyes heavy-lidded with need, jaw clenched, the cords in Wendy's neck rigid. She shifted against the cushion, the towel beneath her wrinkling against the press of her buttocks as Wendy worked the dildo into her body. "Put the fucking beer down, Vince," she grunted, easing the length of rubber out of herself. "Sit down. Sit next to me. You can do it to me. I want you to fuck my pussy with this thing."

Vince found himself on the settee, the dildo in his hand, Wendy's leg thrown over his thighs, her labia splayed with her fingers. He gaped at the scarlet core of Wendy's body, astounded by what she wanted him to do.

Wendy's hips jerked in an urgent signal that she wanted Vince to use the rubber cock against her opening.

"For fuck's sake, Vince," she squeaked, grimacing. "Put it in. Fuck me with it."

Vince offered the head of the dildo to Wendy's body, his hands shaking as he nudged the cock-head at her opening, her hips lifting as she rose to meet it.

At Wendy's snarled instruction Vince pushed past the slight resistance, gasping when the thing just slid inside her, inches of rubber gliding into Wendy up to the buffer of Vince's fist.

"Out and in," grunted Wendy. "In and out, Vince. Use it like it's a cock fucking me. You can go hard, darling," she mumbled, hefting her torso at an angle, resting on one elbow so she could watch. "Fuck that thing into me. Go on, Vince. I want to watch your face while you use that dildo on me."

Vince squirmed around, turning three-quarters on to Wendy. He had one of her legs across his own body, her thigh draped over his hip. Vince used one hand to comply with Wendy wishes, the dildo sliding in and out of her, his fingers closed tight around the girth of the rubber cock while, with his free hand he mauled at Wendy's rolling breasts.

Vince kept it going for more than a minute. He watched Wendy's body accommodate the dildo, heard the squelch and fart of her around the invading shaft, saw her labia clinging to the shaft on the outstroke, and he boggled at the way her body bulged, the cerise flesh stretched tight in the seconds before he plunged the thing back into her. Then he leaned in to first suck on Wendy's nipples before he craned further forward and kissed her mouth.

Wendy's palms came up to his face, her hands against his cheeks as she sucked Vince's tongue, her breath panting into his open mouth.

"Vince," Wendy grunted, the words beginning to bubble out of her. "Fuck it into me, baby. Get me there, Vince. I don't care about anything but you and that thing in my cunt. I want to do this all the time, Vince. I want you to come home with me, to Scotland. I want us to be together this Hogmanay."

"Can I?" Vince replied, his gaze on Wendy's face.

"God, yes, Vince," wailed Wendy as she went up on the palms of her hands, lifting her pelvis so she could meet every thrust of Vince's fist, the dildo filling her. "I'm going fucking crazy like this. I can't sneak around anymore. Come to Scotland..."

Wendy paused and gulped, eyes rolling while her head lolled back. She had moved her position, shifted and lifted herself up on straight arms, fucking down onto the dildo that Vince, by then, was merely holding upright.

"...Come up there with me, Vince," Wendy continued, grunting and gasping. "We can do this whenever we want."

"When Daniel's not around," Vince responded.

"Yes," Wendy hissed. "Of course when Daniel's not around. Of course, not, Vince. But he'll be out of the house with his pals ... He'll be in his bed."

Wendy grunted and groaned again, breasts swaying as she rode up and down, goo sliding out of her to coat the latex shaft in Vince's hand.