A Date with The Devil Pt. 03

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Thanking the stars that her body was responsive as ever, dismissing Mare's craziness for what it was, she slowly, steadily eased a hand inside her thong, sliding it smoothly over closely shaven skin.

Idly watching the pretty girls on Emmerdale . . . and some of the older, equally pretty women who also featured on there . . . she carried on jilling. Volume still zeroed, she caressed her magic button.

On screen the action changed to two guys arguing in the Woolpack. Heather closed her eyes, thinking about the actress who resembled her friend from university. She hadn't exactly "taken" Naz's virginity. No she'd literally had it thrust in her face . . .

Nice and naughty Naz. Oh yes, yes, yes.

Long black hair, beautiful brown skin and eyes like Bambi's.

Yes, yes, yes.

The distinctive sound of a door shutting distracted her, not halfway to her first cum.

There was someone in the apartment with her.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Mary Rose wasn't contactable for one very good reason: she was having an early night in anticipation of tomorrow.

Not that she was having it alone.

Tonight's girl called herself Divine and, even granted that almost certainly wasn't her real name, it did suit her. She was tall, tanned and good-looking with long, jet-black hair. In fact she looked very much like Hev; a factor that had played its part attracting Mare in the first place.

As if she'd admit that, even to herself! She was being totally, absolutely the all-night man for Divine for other reasons entirely.

Or so she kept telling herself.

Contacted via the net Divine had come to Mare's place easily enough, promising her three hours and living up to her word. And Hev couldn't possibly come into the equation. Hev hadn't even entered into Mare's thoughts, not even remotely. If anything, she was doing a little book-balancing in advance, and none of the accounts had anything to do with Yorkshire.

No, this was all about London, not up there in the sticks. This was all about tomorrow. Tomorrow she was due to lie back and take whatever came her way. Therefore tonight that was Divine's role.

And wasn't Divine doing it well!

Allocated three hours Mary Rose had instinctively divided by three. For the first sixty minutes she had simply gone down, satisfying her craving for lady juice while making her happy victim moan and very loudly groan. Then, for the second sixty minutes, she'd fucked her with a traditional strap-on, face-to-face and going hard but not too hard.

Now, well into the final third, she was using her strapless strap-on. Divine was face down on the bed and murmuring encouragement. Like Mare needed encouraging! The penetration was vaginal but she was exceptionally conscious of Divine's plump yet tight ass. It was acting as a fulcrum under her stomach and it felt good.

So did the feel of her tits on Divine's sweaty shoulder blades and the feel of Divine's tits as squeezed by her own sweaty mitts.

The feel of her end of the sex toy was good too. That was why strapless strap-ons were her favourite sex aids, obviously, but right now this one was working better than ever.

In she pushed, in, her flat stomach pivoting on deliciously tight buns, all of the sounds and the smells adding to the occasion.

'So good,' Divine murmured, 'you're the best.'

'I love your ass,' Mare grunted in reply. 'But worry not; I love your pussy even more.'

'I don't care what you love. Just keep on loving.'

'Right,' gasped Mare, 'only too bloody right.'

That third segment was best. Up until then Divine was winning the cum competition by a country mile. By the time their three hours were up they were probably dead-heating.

'Lovely, lovely, lovely,' said Divine, out of bed and stepping back into her panties.

Mare had kept the light on. Watching Divine she automatically compared with Heather and saw flaws. Even so, she was conscious of a surge of affection. Actress, paid whore or whatever, the girl had not been forced to say the things she had.

And minutely flawed or not, she'd been an excellent sport.

Surprising herself, Mare opened her bedside drawer and counted out an extra fifty pounds.

'For you,' she said, offering her the notes, 'for being so nice and ultra-obliging.'

Divine had already been squared off before she expertly removed her first item of clothing (the items she was now just as expertly putting back on). Evidently taken aback, she hesitated. Tips in her line of business were apparently not the norm.

'No strings,' said Mare. 'I want you to have it.'

Divine took the money and shook her head. 'Can't work you out,' she said, fastening her bra. 'What's a babe like you doing paying for it?'

'It's a kick,' Mare said truthfully.

'Right; sure it is.'

'Trust me, you might be used to such situations but I only dare go for it now and then. And when I do dare, it's one fuck of a kick.'

'Fair enough, I get your drift. I think.'

For some reason Mare wanted to talk 'Don't you get many female clients?' she asked.

Divine shrugged. 'I get a few, but mostly accompanying men friends. Three in a bed scenarios; know what I mean?'

'Yeah, it was a three in a bed scenario that gave me the idea. Why share it with a man friend? That's what I thought when the light bulb lit up over my head.'

Divine laughed and held something out. It was a business card.

'It's my personal,' she said. 'I don't work Tuesdays and Thursdays. Ring me if you ever fancy one for free.'

Mare must have looked astonished because Divine laughed again.

'I wasn't being nice and obliging,' she said, 'I was fucking loving it. And even a whore needs a private life, doesn't she?'

Mare glanced at the card and almost died. It had no address or job description, just name and a mobile number.

The name was Heather Hargreaves.

'My God,' she said, 'I don't believe it.'

Divine stared at her.

'What?'

'You're called Heather. Your initials are HH.'

'Common name, I know. And it doesn't work for my line of business does it?'

'I dunno,' said Mare, 'I know a girl called Heather, same initials, and it works all right for her.'

'Is she a whore?'

'Yes and no. But she doesn't charge for it.'

Divine had opened her phone, checking texts and emails.

'Place to go, people to see?' Mare wondered.

'Not until ten tomorrow.' Divine laughed. 'Ten in the morning, I ask you! Who knows for sure that he'll need a whore at a time like that?'

'Maybe he's a guy who knows his circadian rhythms.'

'Maybe he's a guy who loves to buy pussy. Like anywhere, anytime.'

That was close to the bone. Maybe too close. 'Don't do yourself down,' said Mare.

'You mean by confessing I'm a cheap whore?'

'At a ton an hour you're certainly not cheap.'

Divine laughed. 'True, but I'm still a whore.'

Mare was nothing if not quick-witted. There was no future in arguing semantics and she didn't want her visitor to go. Not yet.

'In that case does a medium-to-high-priced whore drink chilled Sauvignon?' she enquired.

Her visitor had clearly played the game before. She took a last glance at her mobile then theatrically snapped it shut.

'Twist my arm and this one might,' she said, grinning.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Confronted with an unexpected night-time visitor a lot of single women might have reacted with panic. Heather didn't. Apart from fancying her chances against any intruder the security protecting her place was exceptionally good. The intruder, whoever he or she was, must know her latest entrance code.

In other words whoever it was must be on her approved list of lovers.

That meant the odds were three-to-one on it being a female.

It was just as well she didn't bet on it because a man's voice called out: 'Yoo-hoo, anyone home?'

'I'm in here,' she called back.

Graham looked as if he'd been topping up his tan. He was wearing a mostly unfastened shirt with cut-off sleeves, faded Wrangler shorts and trainers without socks.

Much more promisingly, he had Heather's supersized mug in one hand and a noticeably large bulge in those abbreviated, fashionably frayed blue denims.

'Don't say you've started without me,' he said, grinning at her.

Heather took her hand out of her thong and beckoned him with a noticeably wet finger.

'Perfect timing,' she said enticingly. 'Come over here.'

Graham had paused in the hallway. Encouraged, he came into the lounge and deposited the mug on a low coffee table, next to Heather's outsized glass of red.

'I guess you owe me a couple of cups,' he said.

In response Heather unfastened his shorts, laughing as his erect willy sprang out at her like a jack-in-the-box.

'Commando as per usual,' she observed, admiring the size and shape of him. Graham wasn't exactly enormous down there but he had an impressive girth. He also had a significant bend that only added to the sexual experience.

Officially, Heather was "off men"; a fairly regular occurrence for her. In practice that did not include her next-apartment neighbour. She'd been shagging him for the last six years; it would have been rude to stop because of current conventions.

Besides, even when they were in favour most men were lucky to get six hours with her. Six years was an indication that Graham was doing something right, wasn't it?

Touching him just so, Heather giggled as his foreskin automatically retracted, exposing a very familiar purple helmet. She deftly lapped up a dab of pre-cum before circling his swollen glans with her tongue and gently pulling on his shaft.

'I was thinking about you,' she fibbed. 'I always do when I play with myself.'

Graham groaned as she took him fully into her mouth. Heather laughed again, inwardly this time. She invariably got off on sucking a guy. To her mind there was nothing submissive about blowjobs. No, on the contrary, it was all about power. In her opinion sucking a guy came second only to eating a girl out and making her scream in delight.

Okay, so it was a very distant second, but the parallels were undoubtedly there.

Pleasuring a lover . . . any lover . . . was always rewarding.

And, of course, just now she had an ulterior motive. She knew Graham's sexual capabilities almost as well as she knew her own. One soft, relatively slow blowjob and he would be good for an hour before needing to cum again.

A whole hour meant lots and lots of cums for her.

Then the fun could really begin.

So men were predictable and she was predictably greedy. But hey, it all went to prove that God was a woman, didn't it!

Well, didn't it?

*****

Ten in the evening and Lindsey was for a second time alone. Leonard was in his study, preparing for his next orgy by "meditating". This was one of her very few times apart from "Leo" since . . .

Well, since the catastrophic events of last Saturday night.

Now, apart from him for a couple of hours, Lindsey's thoughts were much, much clearer. That clingy, instinctive desire to be there close at his side was as good as gone. Apart from him she knew she had been mentally dominated. Close up he could overwhelm her common-sense and individuality . . . in an almost supernatural way.

Call it hypnotism or downright witchcraft, close up he was totally in control.

Now, apart from him, she could seriously wonder what was happening to her.

In her heart of hearts she still believed Saturday night had been a big sham. Okay, she'd been fucked blue by a gang of girls, but afterwards . . .

Afterwards she hadn't much of a clue what had really gone down.

Standing in front of a full-length mirror Lindsey examined herself, particularly her tummy. Depending on how she looked at herself, she either did or did not have a bump.

Depending on how she felt inside, she was swollen to busting.

Leonard had told her she was now "perhaps a third of the way along".

But who was he to listen to?

He was the one persuading her about that sort of crap after only a handful of days, wasn't he?

Yet he was the one who'd been behaving like a doting hubby ever since.

Lindsey flinched at the thought. For some intangible reason she'd been unable to leave Leonard after Saturday night. She couldn't explain it even to herself, but she'd stayed firmly rooted by his side. Even now, without his overbearing presence, she felt fixed to him.

As if he really was the father of her unborn child.

And, crazy as the situation was, that was one thing he was not.

Wasn't it?

"Father unknown" . . . that was the best she could hope for on the certificate.

Assuming there was a certificate for circumstances like these.

But never mind that. The truth was that Leonard couldn't have been more loving and considerate. If the situation wasn't so . . .

Well, so utterly bizarre.

A new sensation struck her, making Lindsey's eyes widen in horror.

That had been a kick.

Her unborn baby had kicked her!

Less than a week and she'd been kicked in the gut . . . from inside!!

Not for the first time, she wondered exactly what she was about to give birth to.

It would be definitely male . . . but would it have a forked tail?

Or God forbid, red skin and horns?

Chapter Twenty-Six

It was approaching midnight and Graham was approaching yet another cum, his fourth or fifth. And he was, as per usual by now, flat on his back. After his initial spell of masculine supremacy Hev had taken over, keen as ever to remind him how sex really should be done.

Still, who could possibly complain about that?

Not Graham. Familiar with Hev as he was, he watched in something akin to awe as she bounced up and down on him, her peerless body glistening with sweat, gravity bobbing her amazingly firm, round tits.

Sell a video of Hev and make a million overnight. The equation was as simple as it was obvious.

Well, except she'd make billions, not merely millions.

She was incredibly aware, too. 'Together,' she gasped, accelerating.

In other circumstances Graham would have laughed. As far as instructions went, "together" from Hev was superfluous. That girl came at the drop of a hat. No. she came like footage of one of those old FA cup finals . . . the ones where fifty thousand fans all threw their hats into the air at once.

Matthews is free. He crosses . . . What a goal!!

'Not yet,' commanded Heather, only slightly spoiling the big finale. 'Keep going.'

Graham's breath was coming in great gulps. The nerve-on-nerve contact between them was beyond miraculous. Even by Hev's standards this was special.

'So good, so good,' he managed.

'Not yet, not yet,' she countered.

Maybe as long as three minutes later he erupted.

Maybe as long as five minutes after that she stopped shrieking and laughed.

'Brilliant,' she exclaimed, flattening her body on his, maintaining the most intimate contact of all, letting her rather damp black mane drape over them.

Secretly, that hair trick thrilled Graham. Never mind their bodily contact, that curtain of hair seemed to cut them off from the rest of the world.

Even now, no further than the supersized fleece on Heather's floor, only steps away from her couch, nowhere near her bedroom, he felt at one with her.

Yes, at one . . .

Not that he imagined he'd ever be properly with her. Hev didn't like blokes . . . allegedly. He knew that he was one of the chosen few. And, unlike the handful of others, he got to shag with her often, not just once and "on your way". Far as he was concerned that was no less than an honour.

An honour only normally granted to girls.

Hev's hair smelt of apples, as per always. She softly kissed his mouth, rubbed noses and then gently pecked at his eyelids.

'I love you,' she whispered.

From anyone else that would have triggered a panic attack. But this was coming from Hev so Graham merely sighed. For Hev, "love" wasn't a declaration of intent. For her "love" was applicable to a whole range of physical lovers . . . mostly female and scattered all over the planet.

Snuggled securely in their apple-scented curtain, Graham kissed up at Hev's mouth. She allowed him long, thorough contact before breaking away.

'So to what do I deserve the pleasure?' she asked.

'I don't know what you mean,' he fibbed.

'I mean you haven't called on me in weeks. Yet here you suddenly are. Is it Vic's team-building?'

Graham tried not to wince. He, Hev and Vic were caught in a sort of triangle and he wasn't altogether sure about his feelings. The situation was . . . Well, it was complicated.

'Of course it isn't,' he bluffed. 'Vic being away until Sunday is purely coincidental.'

'Come on, tonight's the first time you've dropped in on me since Easter. Before that it was somewhere over New Year.'

'We've slept together lots of times since then . . . twice a week at least.'

'Yeah, and it's been nearly always at my instigation.'

'Not always.'

'Oh yes it has. That mug's spent months in your kitchen and mere seconds in mine.'

'I thought you liked my kitchen. And the arrangement we have.'

'Graham, I'm cool with everything, even if you and Vic love each other beyond all reason.

'Even if . . .'

'Oh, don't waffle! It's plain as the nose on your face. And Vic tells me all, remember?'

Graham scowled. Why were women so insightful? And how could they know his feelings much better than he did himself?

'Vic tells you what, exactly?'

'What do you think?'

This time Graham's unease must have been visible.

'Listen,' Heather persisted, 'when the day comes, I'll back off. And the day will come. You and Vic will accept the inevitable and I'll bow out. All it needs is one word from either one of you.'

'Thanks,' he said flatly, 'I think.'

'You still haven't answered my question.'

'Haven't I?'

'No, Graham, you have not. Why did you come knocking on my door tonight? And spare me the bull unless you want an ass-smacking.'

'An ass- smacking sounds good.'

'Graham . . .'

'Okay.' He struggled, waffled a little more and then confessed. 'I was worried about you?'

'Why?'

'Because you were worried about that friend of yours; and because you don't usually ever worry about anything.'

'Do you mean Mary Rose?'

'Yes; she's the one person that ever gets to you. And this time she has really got to you.'

'Mare's a pain in the butt,' Hev agreed. 'But I don't see why you should be worried.'

'Hev, I have to be worried. You're on the verge of doing something stupid, aren't you?'

'Don't call me stupid.'

'Stop using lines from old films. And stop pretending you're in total control. I know you and I bet that you're planning to do something crazy.'

'Do you mean like going down to London and punching Mare's lights out?'

'Yeah,' Graham sighed, 'that or something even more extreme.'

'That's an insult to stupid people.'

'There you go, quoting again. Quit trying to put me off.'

'Okay,' Heather conceded, 'you're right. I am worried about Mare and I was considering going down to London, just before you arrived.'

'Right,' said Graham dubiously, recalling her wet fingers.

'But I wouldn't hurt her if I did,' Heather went on, 'not much anyway, I'd just do enough to keep her out of trouble. I might tie her to her bed, but that's as far as it goes.'

Graham shook his head. 'I can't let you go charging off like that. I'm coming with you.'

That seemed to startle Heather.

'I'm not really going to go.'

'Yes you are. It's written all over you.'

Heather laughed. 'It's the thought of Mare tied to a bed, isn't it? That's the image spurring you on.'

'No, it's the thought of you ruining a beautiful friendship. What was it, five years at school together?'

'Six.'

'Even more reason to show restraint.'

'Don't be soft. Mare knows me inside out. There's nothing I could do to spoil that.'

'Are you sure?' Graham's voice sounded like a bark. He hated it but went on anyway. 'Sorry, Hev, but you've got that light in your eye. Left to your own devices you could destroy world peace. Never mind Kim Jong-Il, you could do it single-handedly. So I'm coming with you.'