Annabelle's Lockdown Ch. 01

Authors note: This is my first attempt at a story. I've always wanted to write a story set in Perth's beach side suburbs, so here we go. If you are after a quick fap, this is not for you. I'm hoping to develop this over many chapters and have some fun with it. Ch.1 will set the scene for you. Future chapters, some already written, will spice things up a bit.

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"Mother fucker!..We were supposed to be getting married...Fucking bastard!...How could he cheat on me like this?...That Fucktard!" I was screaming at the windscreen of the Lexus like a woman possessed. "We were supposed to be getting married! And he ends up cheating on me with that skank with a pommy accent..."I pounded the dash with a closed fist. Anger coursed through me. There would be bruising in that hand tomorrow. "Fuuuuuuuck!"

He had been the love of my life. We'd been inseparable, or so I thought, for five years since we met in college. We'd started planning our wedding. We spoken about children. We'd planned a lifetime together. With his Chris Pyne hairstyle and insanely deep brown eyes, on the body of a fit surf lifesaver, he stole my heart and made it his. Now my heart was stomped on, my future gone, and my hopes for happiness discarded like a burger wrapper in the gutter of an interstate highway.

"Fuck!...." I'd been the perfect girlfriend, or so I thought. I'd put up with him when he came home drunk and vomited all over the bed. I'd laughed at his innuendo in front of his leering mates. I'd dutifully attended family function after function, putting up with all manner of slobbering great uncles and psychotic aunties. Hell, I'd even pretended I didn't know that he'd let his just turned-18-year-old little brother watch us fuck our brains out one huge drunken night at the family mansion in Peppy Grove.

I'd just flown home a day earlier after helping my parents bury my grandmother in rural Victoria. After getting there and back without having to go into covid hotel quarantine, all the while navigating through the madness of the hard border check at the Western Australian border and the bureaucracy of G2G travel authorizations, all I'd wanted to do was fall into his arms. Then I was going to fuck him senseless.

Despite my jet lag and tiredness, I'd even detoured, out of my way mind you, to a shopping mall with a Honey Birdette store. $350 bucks later, I'd worn the Kukuro Blush three piece lingerie set out of the store under the 50s style vintage dress I'd carefully carted across the nation in a carry-on bag. The shop attendant had even wished me well when I'd explained why I didn't need the purchases wrapped or boxed, just worn under the dress I'd carried in with me, whilst the clothes I'd worn in were stuffed in a bag. I'd strutted out like a like a winner, oozing sexiness and confidence.

I hadn't even made it 100 feet when I'd spotted him in a line at the food court with his hand on her ass and his tongue in her ear. In a fucking food court in Morley of all places. What was he doing out here in a suburb like this? With a tramp like her? When I'd walked up and accosted him, he just shrugged and told me it was over. She'd joined in, sounding like she was from two stops past Dagenham East. She'd then told him in no uncertain terms and very loudly, in front of everyone, that at least she'd made him happy in the bedroom this week.

"Motherfucker!" was all I could bring out in reply. That and a few other unladylike terms. The screaming was now hurting my throat. I needed to calm down, needed to hydrate and needed to get the hell out of this shopping mall car park. Taking ten deep breaths, I unclenched my fists, dried my eyes and told myself that everything would be o.k., knowing of course that my life was now a 'class A train wreck'. Ten more deep breaths and at least I felt a little calmer, calm enough to drive without killing me or anyone else.

Carefully putting the Lexus into reverse, I backed out of the car bay, selected drive and headed off to the down ramp, trying not to cry but failing miserably. Leaving the old couple who'd been in the car next to me confused and possibly a little worried at what they had just witnessed.

By the time I got the car into my parking bay at the luxury apartment complex I lived in at Scarborough Beach, I had worked through some of the grief cycle and my anger had turned to depression. Ohh, and I'd almost run over some kid who darted across the driveway in front of the automatic gates.

The bottle of bubbly that I'd left in the fridge, the one that 'fucker' was supposed to pour over my boobs and lick off, was of no interest, so I turned to my liquor cupboard. Bourbon? Whiskey? Not the right weather for those... Vodka? You can't drink vodka alone. Gin.... Yep... Gin was what I needed and to get out of this fucking lingerie that had promised so much and delivered so little.

Three gins later, I was curled up on the sofa in some cotton undies and a plain tshirt bra, coming to grips with my new world. As the sea breeze gently teased at the curtains of my third floor apartment, I starting succumbing to the jetlag and felt myself develop heavy eyelids. I thought about tring to make it to my bed but thought 'Fuck it, I'll sleep here'. Soon the sound of the breaking waves carried me deeper and deeper into ta state of dreamless sleep.

The next morning, after stretching out some tired muscles, a quick shop at the local supermarket, a place I try to avoid as much as possible as it is usually filled with back packers and skateheads or families with screaming kids, I had a homemade acai smoothie in hand and was power walking on the path to Trigg Beach.

The sun was beaming down, the warm breeze had come up from the east, I had my hair, which reached half way down my back, tightly scrunched, and I was pacing it out in my new vibrant, lime green high rise capri skin tight pants and matching sports bra, and trying to fashion a plan to get my life back on track. The looks I got from many of the guys as I powered my 32-23-32 twenty three year old frame past them didn't go unnoticed, and the same with the look I got from a few of the women. Jealousy at work, I'm sure.

Back at the apartment, I shed my clothes and hit the shower, washing the sweat from the morning down the drain, and along with it more of my frustrations from the past 24 hours. The water was scolding hot and it seemed to melt some of my annoyances away and renewed my aching muscles. After toweling off with one of my favourite huge, super soft and fluffy bath sheets, I thought I should make myself feel better and booked a massage for later that afternoon and started thinking about the rest of the day.

As I searched through my undies drawer for something befitting my rapidly increasing positivity, I came across my 'Treat me like fire' v string. This was a piece of clothing, if you could call it that, that covered very little but made me very happy. Digging out and putting on the matching bra, I fingered the feature rings under the bra strap for a moment, before looking in the mirror running a hand across my taunt belly, to the feature ring and mesh of the panties. Smiling, I turned the corner outside of the walk in robe, walked across the master bedroom and opened the curtains. Sure, people on the beach, and even the carpark might have seen me but I didn't care. This was my world up here. Mine. I did what I wanted.

Walking back to the bed, I lay on my back and thought more of work, mum and dad, my late grandma and tried not to think about 'he who shall go unnamed forevermore'. Life got so shitty sometimes and often the way it did took you by surprise. This was one of those times. My wind wandered and, by thinking through some shit, it felt like my world started to look a little less monochrome than it had yesterday.

At some stage I'd started fidgeting as my mind wound down. I'd stopped clenching my fists and stopped rubbing the bruise on that sore hand too. It took me a while to realise that I was again playing with the feature ring, but this time the one on the tin red panties. Looking down over the meshed C cups of the bra, across the tight lines of my abs to the slight bikini bridge running from hip bone to hip bone, I watched my right index finger running around the ring in endless circles. The flawless little ring was super smooth to the touch. My digit was just going round it, at a constant pace and flow. Then a 'not safe for work' thought came to my mind and I smirked, a dirty smirk it was too.

Taking a deep breath, I steadied my hand, and slid it under the bridge of fine mesh, past the satin binding and along soft shaved skin. Pausing, I closed my eyes, slowed my breathing and pushed over my mound. Millimeter by millimeter I grazed my index finger towards my clit. Gently making contact with the hood, I let out a slow and quiet moan. I made slow contact again, and, for good measure, a third time. I could feel life at work, nerves registering the contact, blood moving and sexual feelings fluttering.

Pulling my hand up slightly, I swapped the action to my middle finger, extending it against the mesh and down towards the heated crevice below. I slid it, ever so slowly, up and down the middle of my slit, letting dewy moisture gather and my pussy lips swell. I waited momentarily. Repeated the slide. Waited momentary, repeated the slide. I remember breathing slowly and repeating the sequence a number of times. 'Fuuuuuck'. Then I slowly adjusted my finger, letting it slide more sideways and along, feeling the moisture build even more. I wanted quick gratification. I wanted to get rid of some deep tension but kept the edging sequence going. Taking my time would be better than just engaging in a quick fap, so I waited momentarily, repeated the finger and breathed.

After pushing my patience for a while, I moved things up a gear. With a little sensual moan, I sank my middle finger into the opening of my pussy and into the fire within me, and my hips involuntarily moved up to meet my hand. Sometimes my body acts like its on autopilot. The mesh of the panties, now struggling against my movements, had little give, so the thong of my panties lodged deeped into my butt. Probing, I pushed deeper, looking for the fire to build and the spark to ignite a raging inferno that would cleanse my soul.

Removing my hand, I tried to pull the panties to the side to allow better access, but the satin binding didn't give in the right way. Sometimes sexy doesn't mean practical. Letting out a frustrated groan, I manoeuvred myself, pulling the undies down my legs and launching them away, somewhere across the room. Resuming the position, I again started pushing a finger inside and started sliding in another as well.

Taking my left hand up towards my right breast, I slid it into the cup of the bra, twisting my nipple and tugging at it, wishing for the heat within me to reach combustion and bring me relief. I began to move my hips a little, grinding at the fingers and the attached palm, trying to bring penetration and friction into action. My breathing got a little louder, a little more ragged, a little more urgent.

I spread my legs even wider. My pussy clenched down on my fingers as I changed tactic and began finger fucking myself. I lifted my head up and moaned as I watched my hand start to hammer in and out. Things were happening but not fast enough. I wanted release. I wanted it now. My boobs jiggled but the rest of me stayed true, trying to get maximum energy focussed on my sex. I sped up a touch.

The heat was there but not the fire. Come on! I pleaded to myself. I need this! I want this! I deserve this! That fucker won't get this pussy again. Come on already, I want this orgasm! My fingers were hurting from being thrust into me so.

I changed action again and slowed things down a touch, curling my fingers slightly to rub against my g-spot. My hips bucked, my pussy clamped down hard on my fingers as my clit throbbed continuously, but frustratingly the fire didn't build further. I groaned in frustration. 'Fuuuuuck'.

Looking around desperately, I grabbed my pillows and piled them up. Launching myself on top of the pile I steadied myself, planted my pelvis as far as I could into the top pillow and began to grind, cowgirl style. Slowly at first but with ever increasing speed, clutching the front of the pillows with one hand, I brought the other up to a breast, grabbing it roughly.

Grind, grind, rock, grind, grab a breast through the bra cup. Pull the nipple. I repeated this sequence again and again. I was sweating with sexual frustration and cursing like a trooper. "Fuuuuuck. Give it to me! Fuck me! Come on! God damn this! Fuck, fuck, fuck I want it so bad. Fuck!" If the neighbours were hearing this, well then good.

I leaned forward and took my weight on my elbows. I was now rotating my hips as well as grinding. I could feel my slickness on the pillow as I groaned repeatedly. Then I felt something through the fog of frustration. It was only a tiny glimpse of release but it drove me on. Grind, rotate, rock, smear. 'C'mon you fuck, give me my release'.

I pushed myself back up onto my knees and start jack hammering up and down into the pillow. My clit was now just, and only just, getting enough of the impact to take the flames higher. The earlier fluttering was now a small fire. I moaned again with urgency and continued my efforts. I needed this bad. I whimpered. I moaned. I swore. My vagina was soaked but my orgasm, that desperate orgasm, I sought was still too far away. This was fucking torture. I needed more relief.

Out of desperation I took a finger and rubbed at my clit like there was no tomorrow. The urgency had built and I needed this now. Fucking now! Sweat dripped down my face. I remember seeing a drop if it fall, land in the space between my boobs and make its way down my sculptured abs to add to the fluids at work further below. The vision was art house erotica at its finest. 99 times out of 100 an image like that would have pushed my senses far enough along to take me to and over the edge. But not fucking today. I needed release. I cried to the ceiling and cursed anything and everything. The neighbours had surely heard me now.

My body was covered in a sheen of exertion. My hips bucked of their own accord and my nipples were now gouging away at the cups of my bra as I hammered up and down. Up and down. Clit impact after clit impact. This was taking way... too... fucking... long!

Suddenly, the precipice arrived. It was close now. I could feel more of me turn to molten lava. Shifting in attempt to bring on final release I grabbed the pillows with all my might with one hand in front of me and one behind me. I pulled up on the cotton of the pillow cases as hard as I could. I could feel sweaty fabric from my mound all the way under me and up between my butt. Leaning back slightly, toned stomach muscles working hard, I ground my clit, my lips, my molten being, across the smooth 500 count cotten.

My orgasm was coming, and nothing was going to stop it now. I was at the point of falling into the glorious chasm and into the depths of bliss. From far within, my core reached meltdown, flashes rippling along my spine and limbs, hitting my brain like neural bombs. My sensory overload deleting anything and everything for a time that never seemed to end. Ohhh God it was good. It was so fucking good.

Coming to, I rolled off the pillows, not worrying about the wet mess I'd made on the expensive sheets and pillows. Or the smell of my musk in the air. Quad muscles aching, knees sore, I stretched and made my way across the room. I stood at the window, letting the breeze that was coming through dry me. I didn't care what those outside, who might see me through the open blinds, would think. This was my world up here and I was getting my shit back together one fucking great, if delayed, orgasm at a time.

The next morning was a flurry of industrious activity. I went for a swim on the beach, the hot easterly wind drying me more than my towel. I then cleaned the apartment, removing any traces of fucknut from my life, disposing of his clothes in a charity bin at the nearby shops, selling his surfboard at the shop behind the fuel station and recovering my Honey Birdette costs in the process. I binned anything else in the complex waste area so as to free my home of his ghosts.

I was in a quandary of how to tell my parents about him and what he'd done. I didn't have any really close friends to reveal his shitty actions to, adding to my feeling of aloneness. Studying for a double degree and, not only making the 'Vice Chancellors List', but topping all my classes, had cost me dearly in the friendship department. 'He whose name I no longer say' had also turned a few friends against me. God, I'd been stupid! And when you are 23 and launch your career by landing a mid level management role, in a second tier global mining company as your first job, you don't land too many friends at work. Particularly in the male dominated iron ore industry.

I had to tell Claire, my neighbour. She'd caught me in the garage below the apartments laying out his $4k road bike, and lining up my car to run it over. I had to spill the beans in order to explain my actions. Thankfully she listened well, asked very few questions and showed that she 'had my back' by saving me any damage to my car, by putting her large four wheel drive Landcruiser over the bike for me.

I'd then left it out next to the bulk bin, but not before slashing the seat for good measure.

The rest of my last day of leave was supposed to be pretty straight forward; check on the parent's house in Cottesloe, do a shop for the week ahead, get that massage, finish some washing, go to the hair dresser and take a long run down the path next to the coastal highway before calling the folks and getting an early night.

That's when the phone rang and my life pivoted unexpectedly again for the second time in as many days.

"Honey, it's Dad."

"Hi Dad! I was going to call you tonight. I've got things to tell you..."

He didn't bite at that and came in over the top with what he had to say, "Honey, I need you to listen. Things are about to get bad. Really bad. I've just heard from Nadia. "

Nadia was his only sibling and a nationally respected health expert who had been part of the federal government's pandemic response task force since day one. "There's been a major outbreak in Melbourne with this new variant of the virus. They think it might also have gone rural. The state government are about to announce a major lockdown. We are staying here for the moment. We'll ride this out at Gran's house. "

"Dad, you were about to come home..."

"I know Hun, but they will shut the border before then. But listen, she's also said, off the record, that you have had the same there. Someone left a secure quarantine hotel three days ago and has only just been found. They hushed it up, but there are already cases coming in to hospitals. "

"Holy fuck!"

"Watch your language young lady! You may work in the mining industry but you don't need to use that language! "

Despite me being an adult, my father still had that way of putting me in my place so quickly.

"You'll be in lockdown too within hours. Get yourself some food if you need and hunker down. Be careful in the common spaces of your complex and stay safe. If need be, see if you can bolt down to our place and stay there. At least we don't have any access areas that others will be using". Mum and dad lived in a complex of six villas but had their own entry and exit ways and no common walls.

"I'll be ok dad. "

"Go if you need to. I'll get Ted to look after the place if you can't." Ted was my parent's neighbour. His wife had passed away from cancer last year and he'd quit his job in order to spend the last year with her and their 16-year-old son, Daniel.