An Emerging Pt. 07

He'd lowered himself between her stockinged thighs but had yet to make contact when there came a nervous cough from behind her. Irritated by the interruption, she lifted herself to look over the sofa back.

It was Lesley.

"Errr...yes, look Love. Sorry to interrupt you, and all that, but your Mum's here, and she was hoping to see you. She's not very happy, you know."

She felt no urge to cover herself, and he showed no reaction to her dishevelled state. Somewhere, her brain was acknowledging that this was indeed a dream. But she'd no wish that it should end. Rather the opposite.

The boy was looking up at her, poised, ready to begin. Rachael placed a hand on the back of his head, and pressed his face to the hot flesh of her crotch. His tongue instantly began to explore her clitoris. At the same moment, two of his fingers slipped frictionlessly between her inner labia, and began to twist and turn insider her.

"Christ, that's fabulous. Do some more of that!"

"Rachael! Come on, you know how stroppy she gets"

Her friend was now standing at the end of the sofa, looming over the boy. Every detail of what was occurring must have been apparent to her. Even now she was aware she was in a dream, that idea still delighted her.

"Sorry. It's just I've been waiting for this all evening....and now it's happening....its lovely....Ooooh"

She finished with a theatrical groan. If she could just be left alone to concentrate, orgasm could only be moments away. It wasn't to be.

"Never mind that; like I said, your Mother's here, and she wants to talk to you"

The boy had settled to a steady rhythm with both tongue and fingers. She could feel her walls spasmodically clutching at the intruding digits. Just at that moment, she couldn't conceive of a finer sensation. If only she could be left alone to enjoy it. She wasn't.

"Sort yourself out, and come on. And make sure you cover yourself up. She'll go mad if she sees you like that"

Rachael was determined to resist.

"No. Tell her I'll come and find her in half an hour. Tell her I'm busy. Ohhh....just a bit faster"

That latter to the boy.

"Oh, come ON Rachael. You know what she gets like"

The climax that had been so close slipped away completely. Rachael cried out

"Oh, nooooo. No."

Then she snapped

"Yes, I do know exactly what she bloody gets like. And I also know her straight-laced streak After all, I couldn't avoid the bloody thing, could I? Endlessly going on about what nice respectable girls will and won't do, how awful it would be to have sex and enjoy it and so on. You know what? She made sure I didn't get any of the fun everyone else was getting for years, and even then it's been only in the last couple of years that I've really started to appreciate how good it can be. And now, 30 years later, she's still stopping me making the most of it!"

Red faced, and close to tears, she pushed the boy away from her.

"When is she going to stop interfering in my life?"

That was too much for Lesley As would have been inevitably the case in real life, she avoided confrontation.

"Oh...OK...Errmmm. Let me see if I can delay her" With that, she disappeared. The boy was still kneeling.

She looked down at herself. The dress was crumpled up to just below her breasts, having slipped down the concave curve of her belly. One stocking had lost it's grip, and was in corrugations around the calf. The other had somehow acquired a long run across it's upper part. In her anger, she blurted

"I need to sort myself out, do I? I'll bloody show her"

She tugged the dress over her head, and then sat to roll the stockings from off her legs. She tossed them aside. It left her fully naked.

She found the glazed door of a bookshelf, for use as an impromptu mirror, and imperiously ordered the boy to bring her her handbag. He handed it to her, for her for her to freshen her make-up. The boy seemed nervous. Rachael was now in command, though.

"Get undressed."

The boy obeyed. His body was nothing special, in Rachael's eyes, but at the groin swung a long penis , if not so substantial as she'd have hoped. Below it, by contrast, the testicles were large and heavy. He'd do.

She stepped past him, enjoying his eyes on her body, Back at the sofa, she knelt, knees on the sofa cushion, arms folded supporting her head on the high side. Not quite the effect, somehow, she sought. She slipped her shoes back on, and tried again, this time with one foot on the floor. The heel had given her the extra length of leg necessary. The position had her facing away from where the boy stood, presenting her rear to him. Her head faced the entrance to the Library. Peering back along the length of her flank, she could see his erection filling and rising.

"What are you waiting for?"

Given her condition, it was as comfortable a posture as she could contrive. She could feel the weight of her overflowing breasts, as they dangled below her. The baby in her belly responded to the change in posture by wriggling and kicking.

She felt the sofa base sag as his weight came on to it. Then there was contact. Rachael had been expecting to present at least a little resistance to his entry. There was none. It was as though her lips had opened to admit him. There was only the soft, slippery friction as in a single movement his entire length slid into her. She felt oddly at ease - as if, at that moment, the whole point of her existence was to be penetrated by the member of a lover. It grew no less fulfilling as the boy began , steadily and methodically, to fuck her. The pendulous mass of her breasts began to sway below her. She began to feel the familiar and much-needed sensations, as though the nerve endings in her cervix connected directly to the pleasure centres of her brain. Unconsciously, her hips thrust back against him, and she heard herself begin to emit small gasps of joy. She closed her eyes, surrendering to the rising stimulus. His urgency matched hers, driving into her faster and faster until, clutching her to him he stiffened and came into her. She felt each of his spasms, loving the feel of her channel being doused with his come. He slipped from her.

Sublime as the moment was, she still craved her own climax. She was about to turn, to beg him to continue, when she felt her lips parted again. She was being taken afresh, the new invader's entry being lubricated by his predecessors fluids.

At the same time, she began to become aware of others in the room. Ranged around the walls were a mix of figures from her past and present; workmates, friends, relatives and neighbours. She was the undoubted centre of attention. Patrick, Lesley, and Kate were seated on the sofa facing her. Waged in alongside, was Jeremy, her boss. He, in particular, was regarding her with open fascination. They made eye contact.

"Rachael, this is very definitely different side to you than we see at work" he said, an eyebrow raised.

Much as she wanted to reply, she could do no more than give a weak smile. She began to catch other snatches of conversation from around the room. All were discussing her, her actions, her enthusiasm for what was going on, and her morals.

"Dear God, she's loving that. Just look at her..."

"You'd never have guessed she was such a filthy bitch. Do you think she's the faintest idea who the father is?"

"Don't her tits look fantastic though...and her legs"

Although she'd have it impossible, the effect was to turn her on even more.

Rachael was about to speak in reply, when the boy behind her finally began to move. His style was as different as it could from his predecessor. He pushed into her excruciatingly slowly, stretching her and filling her in both length and width. He felt unnaturally large. Then, pulling her onto him, her buttocks pressed against his pelvis, he was still for several seconds before pulling back until almost entirely withdrawn. He repeated the action, maintaining the same slow steady rhythm. To Rachael, the cycle seemed to take an eternity, although she knew, in reality, it would probably no more than 10 or 20 seconds. The sensations were blissful, taking her euphoria to a new plane. She gave voice to her delight with a deep groan, rising to a yelp as he filled her again. Other than that, the room seemed to have fallen silent.

The boy seemed in no hurry. He continued his slow and steady invasion for an indeterminate time. Enraptured as Rachael was, she became aware that this was not going to lift her to the climax she hungered. And hunger for it she did. Not only for its own sake, for physical release. She wanted her audience to see the heights that she could reach.

Without even turning her head, but ensuring that voice was strong and clear enough to carry to all of those watching, she gave the boy his orders.

"Faster. Harder. I want you to fuck me as fast and as hard as you can."

He uttered his first words since, since they had begun.

"You sure?"

She was struck by the sound of his voice. His accent was coarse, ill-educated. That added yet another frisson – here she was, exulting in screwing someone she would normally have had little to do with. It felt as though she was being degraded by her own lust, and added yet another layer of depravity to an already thoroughly corrupt image.

"Oh, yes. Just get on with it now. What are you waiting for?"

She couldn't resist a glance over her shoulder.

He was pale, his arms heavily tattooed – something she despised. Physically, he was slender top the point of thinness, but the pressure of his rough hands betrayed a wiry strength. Even before he began to move she began thrusting back at him. He responded. Grasping her hips, he began driving into her. No sign now of the previous leisurely pace. It caused him to penetrate her even more deeply. Each time his pelvis slammed into her buttocks, she felt the head of his cock pummel her womb, driving the breath from her. The contact of their flesh made a wet smacking sound. She moaned, and then he spoke again.

"Is that what you wanted? Yeah? Like that? You like that, don't you, you tart?"

"God, yes... That's what I want. Just fuck me, and shut up."

He obliged. The noise level in the room had increased. It was hard for her to raise per head, but she felt a sudden need to survey the room. Just feet away on their sofa, Patrick, Kate and Lesley provided vocal encouragement. Most of the room seemed no less supportive. The encouragement was alone in having its effect on the boy. He gave a cocksure grin and began to introduce a twisting motion while continuing to piston into her. Its effect was to cause the head of his penis to sweep across her already inflamed cervix, creating a sensation somewhere between torture and bliss. She bit her lip; otherwise she would have had to squeal from the pleasure. Her resistance was short lived. She broke, vocalising her pleasure in a worldless celebration.

He responded.

"You like that too, don't you? Sluts like you always do."

She didn't reply, wanting to focus only on the sensations. Then, without warning, the assault slowed. She could hear his heavy breathing. Obviously, he needed to slacken the place for a moment. Glancing back to look at him, she noted that he was flushed, and his hair lank with sweat. Only then did she realise that she was in a similar state.

There was an abrupt change in the atmosphere in the room. Everyone had fallen silent. Rachael looked to her friends, seeing apprehension in their faces. Then she realised why. To her other side, perched on the high back of the sofa, she was suddenly aware of a presence; her husband, Alistair.

The boy was continuing to move inside her, albeit less frenetically. Even despite the sudden chill in the air, the simulation made it hard to concentrate. It occurred to her that she had not thought for one second of Alistair through the whole of the evening, fixated as she was on her pleasure.

He was looking down at her, his expression utterly neutral. Although it was hard, she met his eyes.

When he spoke, she found herself completely disconcerted by the normality of his tone.

"You look like you're enjoying yourself."

She stared at him. There was no sign of irony in his words or on his face. Somehow total honesty seemed in order...

"I've been having the most wonderful time. I don't think I've ever enjoyed myself more."

"Now, who's this? Anyone I should know? Anything to do with....?"

He gestured first at the boy, and then that her swollen belly and breasts. She shook her head, wondering whether to introduce Patrick at this point. That could wait.

"Him? No don't worry. I have nothing to do with him. He was just sort of around when I needed someone."

The dismissal obviously offended the boy. He responded with a harder thrust into her.

"Oooh. Oh."

Gratified by the response, he repeated the action. Rachael felt her earlier state of arousal reasserting itself rapidly.

"Oh, that's good. So very good...."

Alistair's expression had become quizzical.

"I can see that you were enjoying yourself. You and your young friend..."

"I can't tell you how lovely it is. I just feel.....so uninhibited, and desirable, and....Oh, God. He's big, and he's completely filling me up..." She was overpowered for a moment.

"And?"

It was a moment of catharsis. The words seemed to rush out beyond her control.

"And he's just going to fuck me, and use me until he comes, and he'll make me come. And he'll be the second one ....everyone will be able to see, to see me behaving like a whore and loving every second...I didn't ever know how much I loved to fuck, and to be fucked...It's what you wouldn't do to me..."

She ran out of breath, faced with the competing demands of her body's reactions, and the need to speak.

He was staring at her open-mouthed. Somehow, she found the breath to continue

"This is what I couldn't get you to understand. I found out that that sometimes I just wanted to be a whore, and when I did, it felt better than I'd ever imagined it could."

There was a silence, and then

"In that case, I think you'd better concentrate on what you're doing"

She smiled heartfelt thanks. Then something darler emerged

"Watch me. Watch, and see what I'm like, how much pleasure it gives me.".

After that, the intoxication of the moment meant Rachael was in no position to judge the passage of time, even had this been reality. There was no benchmark, no objective comparison by which she could tell if she's been immersed in the pleasure for minutes or hours. At some stage, her hand had found Alistair's, and she gripped it strongly.

The boy faltered. Rachael twisted her head to him, saying

"Don't you dare stop. This is good, so very good..." To her surprise, Alistair squeezed her hand, supportively. Rachael tried to speak, forming her words around her ragged breath

"I love you. But you know that everyone here is talking about me, how I'm behaving like a complete tart? You must hate me for that.."

"I know. It doesn't worry me, if you're happy. And I can see you are."

At last she could feel her orgasm rising.

"There's only the one thing – do you know who the father is?"

"No. Patrick's over there"

She gestured, just a jerk of her head

"Ah. So definitely not your young friend here."

"No, I've never seen him before tonight"

For the first time since Alistair's arrival, the boy piped up.

"So, this is your Mrs, is it Mate? Fucking hell, she's hot".

Alistair looked pleased, almost as though he'd been complimented personally. The boy warmed to his subject, panting out his words around the exertion of his increasingly vigorous thrusting.

"Yeah, you know she ...had my mate first, before me? I thought I'd.....be getting "sloppy..... seconds. ..She's ....really tight. You ....know the way ....her cunt squeezes..... your cock every.... so often? That's... wicked, that is"

Rachael responded by grasping his member as tightly as she could.

"Fuck, yeah, like that"

Rachael was close, now, very close.

"Then, over her shoulder "I want to have you again later. And your friend, I want you both"

The boy grunted

"Fuck, yeah...I'll get the...rest of my mates....four or five....of us.......We'll .......fuck you.....bandy....fuckin' slut.... I wanna....fuck....your arse....."

Oblivious then to Alistair or anyone else's presence she crooned..."Oh, God, yes....yes....I want you to queue up and have me and use me and pass me on..."

Patrick was kneeling by her, suddenly. Draping her free arm around his neck, she pulled him to her, and kissed him passionately. She felt a hand sliding down over the swell of her belly, moving towards her groin. It couldn't be the boy's. His were grasping her hips, giving him the necessary traction for his vigorous pounding. It couldn't be Patrick's, his hands were fully occupied, one embracing her, the other caressing a bloated breast.That left only one possibility - Alistair's. It felt like a benediction. It reached its destination, and she felt fingertips stroking her clitoris.

Half formed thoughts and images chased each other through he mind. Her breasts were swinging freely, and the baby in her belly was wriggling vigorously. One image kept reoccurring - he was about to come in her, and his semen would be mixing with the deposit already there. And she'd be adding Patricks's and Alistair's to it later, and maybe others, surely filling her to overflowing.

The pressure of the fingers on her clitoris increased. As it did so, the boy grunted, and she felt him spasm inside her. She felt suddenly awash, filled with copious amounts of his spendings. That was it.

"Dear God, he's going to make me come right now!"

The waves began to crash through her consciousness.

"Do you see, Alistair, everyine? He's making me come, and it feels magnificent."

That was the last thing she was able to say as under her husband's benevolent gaze, Rachael rode the cock of her anonymous lover to a huge climax. As the orgasm passed its peak, the dream faded.

In the aftermath of a climax none the less physical from having arisen in her unconscious, Rachael woke. She was aware of the contractions that were still shaking her vagina. As she explored with her fingers, she felt the wetness between her thighs, the mixture of her own expelled juices, and Patrick's semen of earlier. She raised the soaked fingers to her mouth, tasting the combined fluids

She found herself grasping at the lurid images that had populated the dream. Despite the climax she felt achingly, desperately horny. She raised herself on one elbow, hoping to see that Patrick was still there. He wasn't. The room was empty. Dropping back, she slid two fingers inside herself seeking her g-spot.

The dream images were fragmentary, hard to capture, but sufficient for her to gain the gist of what had happened. Each and every aspect of it seemed hideously perverse, and at the same time, so, so intoxicating. Part of her was disgusted with her reaction to the images. But most couldn't resist them. Her fingers began working, finding the spot and establishing a rhythm. Within moments, she was deliberately forcing herself to slow down, so she could savour the more dissolute notions. She was now consciously picturing herself sprawled on the sofa, her anonymous lover lapping at her soaked gash, her husband and friends looking on. There were virtues to calculated imaginings, she realised, even if the subconscious did a better job of dredging stimuli from one's darker reaches. The conscious mind could embellish, add detail, manipulate the concepts for maximum effect. Now, in Rachael's mind's eye, as the first anonymous youth knelt between her thighs, the second stood by her head, erection proud, allowing her to suck and to caress it, and to slide it's slippery head across her face, leaving a shiny trail.