Taming Lorna

I had heard quite a bit about Lorna before I actually met her. A friend of mine had told me that this incredibly fit and sexy young girl had strolled into his shop one day to meet the recently hired apprentice who was her steady boyfriend. She was tall, leggy, blonde... just my type actually. The young apprentice, Scott, kept us amused during my occasional visits to my friend's premises with detailed descriptions of exactly how he fucked Lorna, of how this beautiful, tanned blonde lowered herself onto him, then bucked and writhed on his iron-hard cock with increasing rhythm until they both gleamed with sweat and his semen fountained into her glorious young body.

Scott was a good-looking, dark-haired lad who was never short of female attention and who usually returned from a boy's night out clubbing with a new phone number or two, so I guessed that Lorna must be something pretty special to keep him coming back to her. Particularly when one considered that, in the opinion of almost everyone who met her, Lorna was a complete bitch.

"I tell you, she is absolutely fucking gorgeous -- but she gives Scott such a hard time," was the conclusion of my friend after one night out in the couple's company. The two of them had split up several times during their stormy relationship, but always seemed to end up back together sooner or later. They were together when my friend got married, and it was at the wedding reception that a saw Lorna for the first time.

It was a busy function, and though I glimpsed the pair of them at various times it was mid-way through the evening before I got to see Lorna properly. Being single, I didn't always fit in with that chummy cosiness that seems to draw couples towards each other at weddings, and I had drifted out into the foyer where the drinks were being served. Scott and Lorna were making their way to the bar and had to walk straight past me, allowing me to finally ogle Lorna up close.

She was maybe 5'8" or so, and fabulously taut and fit. Her face was stunningly pretty and immaculately made up. Her long, straight blonde hair fell halfway down her slim back, gleaming like silk and so pale it was almost white. Her skin-tight blue dress was cut low, exposing a smooth, plump cleavage, and the hem was diagonally cut so that it ran across a shapely knee on one of her legs, then angled upwards to expose most of a sculpted thigh on the other. Her skin was deeply tanned, far darker than her white-blonde hair, and utterly flawless. Her carefully manicured hands were probably the slimmest I had ever seen on an adult. She was about nineteen or twenty I guessed -- half my age -- and I immediately wanted to pull Lorna to the floor and fuck her right there on the foyer carpet until I had squirted myself dry inside her.

"Hi," Scott grinned at me. Lorna's beautiful green eyes flicked momentarily towards me and then looked away, dismissing my presence. I smiled a greeting, and my eyes followed Lorna as she passed. Her firm buttocks glided silkily against each other beneath her clinging dress as she walked, and I imagined spreading those glorious lobes with my fingers, sliding my tongue between those wonderful cheeks and gently licking her taut anus as Lorna knelt naked on my bed, her sensuous lips parting as she began to pant softly with excitement...

I could see why Scott kept going back to her -- no matter how much of a bitch Lorna might be to her partner, if she subsequently smiled and offered herself for a prolonged session of frantic, whimpering make-up sex... well, he would simply have no choice but to pull her down onto the bed and feast on her, again and again. Some girls just had that aura about them.

* * * * * * * * *

Following my first encounter with Lorna, a bit of careful eavesdropping and subtle questioning revealed that she worked 3 days a week in a telephone call centre for a major utility company. I wondered if the frustration of dealing with a never-ending queue of often irate and unreasonable customers was what made the girl so selfish and demanding outside of work, or if a natural bitchiness led to Lorna rather enjoying being blankly unhelpful towards people about to have their water supply cut off due to some administrative error.

Lorna's boyfriend, and his employer, were certainly convinced that the latter was closer to the truth -- though one of Scott and Lorna's recent splits centred on an episode, told to Scott by one of his girlfriend's co-workers he met in a local wine bar, which may have suggested otherwise. According to this girl, Lorna had spent most of one afternoon closeted with their middle-aged manager in his glass-fronted office. Through the glazed walls separating the office from the main call centre, the pair were observed sitting face-to-face so close that their knees were almost touching as they talked, whilst Lorna, smiling invitingly at him, kept crossing and uncrossing her long, sculpted legs until her tight, scarlet miniskirt had ridden up almost to her curvy hips, and the semi-transparent crotch of her tiny red thong was clearly visible between her smooth, tan thighs. The next time Lorna uncrossed her fabulous legs she let them ease a few inches apart, exposing the soft camel-toe of her sex pressing tantalisingly into her tight red panties. Was she trying to sweet-talk -- or seduce --her boss into switching her to another job within the company? Or was she simply enjoying her power over the older man, flirting openly with him as he leaned forward until his face was little more than six inches from her sensuous lips, then rebuffing him if he suggested any kind of liaison between them? Whatever her intentions, the end result was that Lorna was still answering the phones.

In spite of Scott's frequent faithlessness to Lorna, with girls the handsome youth casually and easily picked up in bars and clubs, he had a strangely puritan attitude to his girlfriend's sexuality, and he had dumped her for a while after an argument about the explicit display Lorna had given for her manager. Yet in my experience, girls like Lorna rarely, if ever, laid themselves on for men. They usually spent a great deal of time, effort and money making themselves as sexy and desirable as they could possibly manage, then seemed to take great pleasure in turning everyone down. I figured that Scott was probably a pretty safe bet as Lorna's only current sex partner.

* * * * * * * * * *

Lorna played on my mind quite a bit over the next couple of months. The idea of the beautiful young blonde actually wanting to give herself to a balding forty-year-old like me seemed out of the question, and I began to fantasise about how I could abduct and fuck her. I pondered over whether I could acquire Lorna as she walked to the train station on her way to work; approaching her silently from behind and sliding one strong arm around her hourglass waist, Lorna's pretty eyes widening in shock as I gathered her against me and my hand closed tightly over her sensuous mouth, I would force her into my car and zip-tie those slender wrists to the seat brackets before driving Lorna out to a deserted country track. Stopping the car in a hidden grove of trees and reclining her seat all the way back, I could begin unhurriedly feasting on Lorna's fabulous body, stripping the girl to expose her breasts and hips and pubis before forcing a gasp from Lorna's full, painted lips as she felt my heavy erection finally slide all the way into her soft, pink vulva. I would ease her smooth thighs apart with my knees, and Lorna's carefully pinioned wrists would start twisting helplessly against their restraints, soft whimpers of revulsion coming from her as I began to thrust in and out of her, slowly at first and then gradually faster, and faster, and faster...

But there were so many concerns. I didn't know if I could get Lorna into my car and restrain her without causing a scene. Plus, even if I successfully acquired her, the cramped and awkward sex which would ensue in my car's reclined front seat would be a far from ideal exchange for my probable subsequent arrest. If I wanted to move Lorna out of my car and into a hotel room for a more leisurely conquest, the risk of everything going publicly wrong was doubled. And I couldn't think of any possible way of getting Lorna alone into my apartment. Eventually I consigned the thought of fucking the gorgeous young blonde sex magnet into a wistful corner of my mind, to be brought out and savoured whenever I stroked my soap-covered erection with a slow, teasing rhythm until I was whimpering with relief and Lorna's immaculate face filled my mind as the semen squirted from my glistening penis in long, white ropes.

* * * * * * * * *

"Run that by me again?" I asked, needing time to think.

Scott leaned against the bar and sipped his lager, raising his voice slightly over the background hubbub of the busy saloon bar.

"Me and Lorna, and John and Sharon, were supposed to be going away to Devon for a long weekend in a fortnight's time," he explained. "Only, Sharon's lost her job and they can't afford to go. Lorna paid the deposit on both our hotel rooms and she's royally pissed off at the thought of losing her money on an empty room." Scott motioned the barmaid over with a wave of his empty glass. The girl, a petite brunette with dark eyes and very full breasts, scurried over and returned Scott's smile as he ordered drinks.

"No-one else can get the time off work at short notice," Scott continued after the girl had left. "We're going down next Friday morning. If you fancy a weekend away, feel free to join us."

I pondered for a few seconds. Translated into the language of the real world, what Scott meant was: none of our friends who are couples are available, so unless we want to lose the deposit on one room -- which will leave Lorna in a pissy mood for at least a week -- we're left with no option but to ask a single bloke twenty years our senior to tag along and play gooseberry until we drop enough hints to get him to piss off and do whatever it is that middle-aged single men do, and leave us alone.

Except... if I were to go, I didn't intend to be quite the gooseberry they were expecting. It was simply a question of if I could get my plan together in time.

The petite barmaid returned with our fresh drinks, her wonderfully full breasts trembling gently as she walked. She and Scott exchanged a few smiling words, the girl deliberately leaning forwards and holding his eyes encouragingly as they talked. Scott briefly laid his hand on the girl's bare arm, and her nipples began to show faintly through her thin, black shirt. Her smiling lips parted with a soft click as, still lightly gripping her slender arm, he whispered something in her ear, his lips brushing her soft, curly hair. The girl's nipples were long, excited pegs now. What it must be like, I marvelled, to have that sort of power.

I decided that such an opportunity might not come again. Scott, Lorna... and me; ensconced in a hotel miles from home. I waited a few seconds as Scott and the barmaid finished their conversation, the young brunette smiling back at him over her shoulder as she moved away to serve another customer.

"All right," I agreed. "It sounds like a good laugh. You're on."

* * * * * * * * *

I drove, of course. That was my entry fee for being allowed along to such a socially desirable weekend, never mind that I was bailing the pair of them out -- or, more specifically, bailing Lorna out -- of a wasted room deposit. Not that the bitch seemed awfully grateful, I had to admit. She had barely murmured a 'hello' to me when Scott and I picked her up from her parents' house, her beautiful eyes glancing briefly in my direction, and now, every time I looked in the rear view mirror I could see Lorna's immaculate face pouting sulkily as she stared out at the passing countryside. During a brief knot of stationary motorway traffic I glanced at her once again and idly wondered how sulky Lorna would look if I suddenly joined her in the rear of the car, forced her fabulously lithe body down across the back seat, peeled off her skin-tight jeans, and sank my long, purple penis into her smooth, wet cunt.

Conversation was minimal, at least as far as anyone deigning to speak to me was concerned, and I kept my mind amused during the journey by trying to work out how on earth Lorna had ever managed to wriggle into those amazing, skin-tight black jeans. Considering that her expertly French-manicured fingernails stood at least a half-inch past the ends of her pencil-slim fingertips, I figured that she must have put on a looser fitting jean and then spent last night in the bath, shrinking the denim into a second skin over her sumptuous lower body. Or perhaps she wore nothing below the waist, and an artist had simply sprayed black paint directly onto her long, bare legs. Conversely, Lorna's lightweight, pastel-pink sweater was so loose that the voluminous neckline kept slipping off of one slim shoulder, revealing a lovely expanse of flawlessly tanned skin and a black brassiere strap as thin as a shoelace. Every so often my mind would wander as I surreptitiously gazed at Lorna's reflection in my mirror, and my penis would slowly begin to lengthen with desire for her.

* * * * * * * * *

The Friday night was spent in the bar, with Scott and I both trying to ignore the fact that Lorna seemed to be in a notably foul mood. She had looked stunning when I joined them in the lounge. The sweater and jeans were gone, and I had briefly wondered exactly how Lorna's body had smelled when the tight crotch of those spray-on jeans was peeled away from between her legs after the long, hot journey. Now she wore a paper-thin, knee-length white crepe skirt topped by a pink, tailored blouse that was so tight I could see the shallow dimple of her belly-button as well as every contour of her beautifully shaped breasts. However, Lorna had slumped moodily into her seat and remained there for much of the evening, barely acknowledging my presence.

Fortunately I was kept entertained by the sight of Lorna's flimsy skirt gradually slipping further and further up her long, silky thighs as she fidgeted in her seat, crossing and re-crossing her smooth legs until most of those gorgeous, sculpted flanks were exposed and my cock was beginning to swell into a long, firm shaft of desire for her. Eventually, Lorna announced that she was visiting the ladies' room, her skirt falling disappointingly back into place around her shapely knees as she stood.

"She's in a happy mood," I observed when Scott and I were alone.

Scott wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, I know. I think she's pissed that John and Sharon aren't here."

"Well, she could have paid for them to still come," I suggested. "Or the pair of you could have?"

Scott chuckled. "To be honest, I'm not all that keen on those two - not enough to lay out my hard-earned money on a free weekend for them," he explained. "Which pissed Lorna off no end as she reckons Sharon's her best mate and all that..."

"But not enough of a best mate for Lorna to put her hand in her own pocket," I said.

"Well..." Scott shrugged. "You know how it is with her, she only works three days a week..."

Yes, I thought, and instead of maybe treating her hard-up friends to a nice time, she just keeps spending all her money -- and half of yours, in all probability -- on clothes, cosmetics, hairdressers, tanning salons, nail studios... I tried to ogle Lorna without appearing too unsubtle as she tiptoed sexily across the lounge in her tall, white stiletto-heeled shoes, her pretty eyes carefully downcast away from mine, and finally flounced back into her armchair. A millimetre-thin, silver chain bracelet slid along her slim wrist as she retrieved her drink from the small table between us, her long nails clinking delicately on the wine glass. The gauzy material of Lorna's skirt hissed silkily away from her smooth knee as she crossed her magnificent legs, and her flaxen hair shimmered white-blonde in the overhead lights as she steered it carefully away over her slim shoulders, her beautiful green eyes distant with concentration. However expensive all that grooming was, though, I had to admit it was money well spent.

As she re-crossed her long, tanned legs, exposing a little more of her sculpted thighs, I noticed a matching silver thread glinting around one of Lorna's slim ankles. Our eyes met briefly, and an image suddenly appeared in my mind of Lorna curled into the chair opposite me in the exact posture she was in now, her fabulous body completely naked apart from those two tiny chains around her wrist and ankle. I smiled at her as my penis stirred and suddenly began to lengthen into a heavy, purple truncheon. My eyes were drinking Lorna in quite unsubtly now.

* * * * * * * * *

My attempts at drawing Lorna into conversation didn't go excessively well over the course of the evening. She was relatively unforthcoming in her answers to my questions, and proclaimed herself baffled as to the point of my career choice before dropping veiled hints about the sexual orientation of forty-year-old men who had never been married. Then, when Scott and I talked for any length of time, Lorna fidgeted impatiently in her chair and shot her boyfriend pouty looks until he paid her a suitable amount of attention, a situation which effectively left me out in the cold. I was not unhappy about this, for two reasons -- firstly, Lorna's constant fidgeting had caused her gossamer-thin skirt to gradually ride all the way up her wonderful, supple thighs, exposing the whole length of her beautiful tan legs for my eager delectation; and secondly because I felt her sulky little attitude made my task for the next day a little easier to accomplish. Yes, I thought as I watched Lorna settle the heavy silk of her hair over her slender shoulders with a practiced flick of her pretty head, and glare haughtily at me for a second as my eyes lingered on her immaculate face just a little too long. All in all, it had been a good start.

* * * * * * * * *

In some ways I was disappointed to not be in the hotel room next to Scott and Lorna. It would have been interesting to press the complimentary tooth-glass to the adjoining wall and listen as they prepared for bed -- a little conversation perhaps, the sound of clothes being discarded, then silence for some time except for maybe the occasional soft murmur or sharply drawn breath. Then... a long, quivering whimper of pleasure from Lorna, before the unmistakeable creak of a cheap hotel bed absorbing the movements of two bodies beginning to work rhythmically together. Minutes would tick by, the frequency of creaks becoming faster, and faster, accompanied by the soft gasps of excitement and the subtle hiss of skin on skin... then perhaps a helpless, feminine cry of delight and a low groan of blissful release as thick male seed squirted deep into very wet female.

But I was several doors away along the corridor, and the faint sound of a late-night TV chat show filtering through from the next room didn't quite hold the same thrill. I lay awake for some time, lazily picturing Lorna and some of the things I wanted to do to her, but eventually I drifted into sleep.

* * * * * * * * *

As it turned out, Scott didn't fuck Lorna that night. Instead, they had a rather prolonged argument, which reignited the following morning and had led to the couple agreeing to pursue separate activities during the Saturday.

"To be honest I've had just about enough of her this weekend," he grumbled as we played pool in the seafront amusement arcade. "She's moaning about what a shit weekend it's going to be without her mates, then refuses to get involved in anything I suggest." He fired a shot at a corner pocket, missing narrowly.

Lorna had stayed back at the hotel, planning to spend the morning in the hotel's solarium working on her tan before maybe walking to the local shopping centre that afternoon. "You boys go off and have fun," she had told us. And whilst I would have liked to have passed a few hours staring at Lorna as the gorgeous young blonde stretched sinuously across the hotel's sun bed in a tiny, string bikini, her flawless bronzed skin gleaming with tanning oil, I needed to work on Scott during the next few hours if my plan were to move forward.