Dirty Susan

"You don't want to lick me down there, Daddy?" Amy said, a moue of disappointment pursing her lips.

Amy paused for a few seconds, posing deliberately to allow Michael time to appreciate her vulva. Then, brightening, Amy let go of the kilt. She shrugged and clambered onto the bed, straddling Michael's thighs.

His hands went straight to her breasts while Amy lifted herself, the hem of her kilt once more raised by the fingers of one hand while, with her other hand, she reached for the length of him.

Holding Michael's cock upright, Amy looked down into his face and saw his lust; she recognised the yearning and the hunger and her own desire flared.

Amy sighed and rubbed the domed cock-head through her meaty flaps, mushing her vulva onto Michael's erection.

"Here comes your baby-girl, Daddy," Amy mumbled, and then she gasped as that rigid thing nudged inside. "Fuck," she muttered, eyelids flickering before she gurgled, "Daddy ... I just love fucking your big dick."

Michael's hips began to move. He thrust upwards, driving deep into the girl astride him. He thought she was luscious, her breasts were so big and firm, gravity-defying orbs that swung in front of his face. He grabbed them again, revelling in the texture. The girl's tits were so soft, yet firm and pliant at the same time.

He shifted his grip, grabbing Amy's buttocks, handfuls of taut flesh that he could use as leverage as he fucked up into her.

"You're perfect," Michael mumbled, awed by the youthful body that was his to plunder. "Fuck. Amy. I ... I can't get enough of you."

Then, completely unbidden, from nowhere came an image of his wife.

Michael cursed the mental aberration.

He compared Stephanie to the girl currently bouncing with great enthusiasm on his dick.

Poor Stephanie, she just couldn't compete, not with Amy. Not with his baby-girl.

The desperation the woman had exhibited of late was rather pathetic. The diet and the gym sessions? Dis Stephanie actually believe he gave a shit about how she looked? Wasted effort as far as Michael was concerned. Oh, he was fully aware she did it entirely for his benefit. He knew Stephanie's frantic determination to regain her courting weight was her attempt at keeping her man, but he found the whole business, quite frankly, rather nauseating.

Why couldn't Stephanie just get the message? He'd made it plain enough, hadn't he? Did he have to come out and say it to her face? Where was her pride, her self-worth? Why did she put up with it?

It staggered Michael, it really did. Just what did he have to do to get the message through to his wife? She didn't turn him on anymore. Stephanie didn't have what it took to get a rise out of Michael's cock.

Anyway, who cared about a desperate thirty-eight year old? What could Stephanie do that could match the loveliness of the ripe young woman bouncing on his dick?

Michael had no doubt that Stephanie would be whining on to her tubby friend.

And what would Susan be doing? Oh yeah, Michael had no illusions there, Suze would be calling him all the names going.

It was laughable, really. Okay, yes, he'd had a thing for Susan at one time. She might be a little weighty, a bit doughy, but she had a big pair on her, too. Michael wasn't exactly sure what it was about Suze that he fancied. Yes, she had a hefty pair of jugs that she didn't mind showing off, there was that, but there was also something more, an indefinable air about her. Michael always got the sense that Suze would be a right dirty fuck and that, when it got to it, she could really be a handful. She might be a little on the plump side but there was a look about her, something there in her eyes that spoke of unseen depths.

Not that he'd have dared to make a move, not on Susan. He was no fool, could sense the bitch didn't like him. But he'd had the occasional wank while thinking about her. In his mind's eye he'd managed to coerce her, against her will, used some kind of blackmail that meant Susan had to let him fuck her or face some unthinkably dire consequence. The fantasy usually culminated with him letting go of his muck all over her face. He'd crank at his cock, jizm squirting while he held the image in his head of Suze's pretty face smeared with goo, dollops of the stuff all over her, silver ropes in her blonde hair while viscous spatters of the stuff dripped off her chin onto her tits.

Then Michael looked up, saw the unblemished breasts and the heavy-lidded gaze of lust on Amy's face, and he forgot all about his wife and her friend.

"I love my Daddy's cock," Amy purred. "Are you going to do it inside me?"

This was another of Amy's games, a strangely compelling game – dark and, to his mind, kinky.

"If you want, baby-girl," Michael hissed, cords in his neck tight with effort.

"I do, Daddy," the girl breathed. She leaned in close, her hips jerking, Amy's body holding him deep while her insides clenched around him. "I want you to put me on my back and fuck me, hard. I want you to fuck me deep, Daddy." Amy's tongue slid into his mouth.

Their tongues danced together for several seconds, a serpentine slide before Amy broke away.

"I want you to give me all your cum. Put a baby inside me. Please, Daddy, come and put a baby inside me."

Amy yelped and giggled when, with a heave and much thrashing of limbs, with his cock wedged tight inside her throughout, Michael manoeuvred Amy onto her back.

In reality, the thought of his seed impregnating Amy was horrifying. Michael could hardly think of anything worse. But, somehow, the suggestion, the idea of it sent him wild with lust. If he knocked Amy up she would be his, unquestionably, and Michael enjoyed the notion of complete ownership, of dominance over the girl. It was something that appealed to his controlling, completely self-serving nature.

It wasn't something he could explain. Michael couldn't even elucidate the rationale to himself. He had no desire for children, had even had a vasectomy – without consulting Stephanie beforehand, had blagged and bullied the counsellor – to negate the possibility of impregnating his or any of his conquests. There was no way he would consider the event in reality, but the thought of it, and the way Amy begged him to pump his seed into her, to flood her with semen...

That got him so hot, so wound up with desire for her body that he was happy to comply. He did think about squirting his muck on her face and her tits, and sometimes he just went ahead and did it, but more often than not he would give the girl what she wanted.

It was a pity, really, for even as he thrust into Amy and felt the beginning of the inevitable surge tickling way down deep, he knew this affair couldn't last. As before, as with the others, the attraction for her would pall, he would grow jaded. The Daddy scene and the breeding thing would cease to have the effect it currently did and Amy would be cast aside.

And when that happened he was confident he would be able to make it up with Stephanie.

Stephanie would forgive him. If anything, her response to his affair, the first she'd discovered, had shown Michael that the pathetic bitch would take anything from him. He'd broken her, shattered her confidence and her spirit. After this, when Amy's appeal finally faded he knew for certain that Stephanie would welcome him back with open arms.

And more importantly, in future, he could do what the hell he pleased. He could walk all over her, flaunt other women in her face confident in the knowledge she'd be just as pathetic and desperate to keep him. He might even introduce the idea o a threesome.

Michael, feeling a surge of power at the thought of his dominance over Stephanie, knowing he controlled Amy as well, eager to show off his sexual prowess, hooked the girl's knees behind his arms. He forced her legs wide, kept her uptilted cunt open while she gazed up at him.

Amy's bottom lip was between her teeth. She stared at him, her eyes wide.

"You want Daddy to fuck you and let it all go inside you?" he growled.

A sigh and a roll of Amy's eyes: "Uh-huh, Daddy," she mumbled, nodding.

He began slowly, his cock sliding out, the tip inside the girl as she lifted her hips to draw him back in

"You want me to go deep, baby-girl? You want Daddy to really go hard and come? And when I come, do you want me to push right inside you so I put a baby there?"

"Yes," Amy gasped, her own movements gaining in urgency.

"Okay, baby," Michael grunted. "If that's what you want, Daddy will do it to you. I'm going to fill you with my seed."

He thrust and pumped, the girl's feet swinging, high heels she wore as a requirement of Michael's waggling under the onslaught.

Michael pounded at Amy, screwing his dick deep, savouring the gasps and yelps that came out of her.

He let it go, eventually, when he could hold off no longer he just bellowed and thrust, his cock-head nudging the girl's cervix, semen pumping out of him to flood her insides.

Michael, in the instant the outpouring began, as his toes curled and the irreversible tide burst out of him, thanked the fates for his vasectomy.

No, he didn't want kids, but he could go along with Amy's kinky little game. It was like the Daddy thing she loved, all part of the fun.

It didn't occur to him for a moment that Amy might in fact mean it, that despite her youth she might really want a baby.

But, being the man he was he didn't really care. It was all about him.

Three

Sunday morning, the traditional breakfast in his favourite café after a night of hard graft. To John Palmer's delight the rain had disappeared sometime during the hours he'd spent in the club. It looked like it might be a decent day, which in John's opinion was well overdue.

John Palmer: forty, good-looking in a cheeky, wide-boy way that made women smile, grinned across the table at his friends, his colleagues – although some would more accurately refer to Omar and Ray as his partners-in-crime. Not that John Palmer considered himself a criminal, not at all, in his considered opinion he was a businessman taking care of business.

And pretty successful he was at it.

He nodded at the mobile phone he'd just placed onto the table next to his mug of tea. "That," he said, the grin broadening, "was a lady-friend of mine."

"It's always a fucking lady-friend of yours, John," Omar replied, his white teeth gleaming.

John shrugged and affected a wide-eyed expression of affront. "How fucking rude are you?" he responded around his smirk. "But, if you'll allow me to finish..."

He rolled his eyes and the other two men chuckled, smiling and clicking their tongues.

"That," John repeated, his forefinger stabbing the air for emphasis, "was a lady-friend of mine."

John paused and nodded at a younger version of himself, his apprentice as he liked to call Ray. Ray was an up-and-coming, cut from the same cloth as his mentor. Similar in looks and build although there were no family ties binding them.

"And," John continued, "we have been invited to a party at her place." His eyes moved to Omar's enquiring face. "This afternoon." He winked and chuckled, shoulders lifting in a shrug while his expression conveyed mock surprise. "It seems our services are required. I think you might be popular with Susan," John said to Omar. "You and that elephant's trunk you call a cock."

"The three of us?" muttered a wide-eyed Ray. He threw a look around the busy café and murmured, "And one bird?"

"Two women," John replied, holding up the requisite number of fingers. "The other one's fit as fuck, apparently. Suze said something about husband trouble. She seems to think that she can get her mate..." John's eyes lifted towards the ceiling, lips pursing as he searched for the name Susan had mentioned. "Stephanie!" he blurted, pleased with himself. "Suze reckons that Stephanie can get a bit of payback by fucking us three. Says Stephanie might not be up for it in the end, but it's worth a try."

"So if this Stephanie is meant to be fit as fuck, is Suze a dog then?"

John's head shook side-to-side in response to Omar's question.

"Not at all. No, Omar, not a bit of it." John pulled a face. "Okay, she's not one of them skinny plastic Barbies that you go for, mate. No false tits and Botox for Suze. She might be getting on a bit, about my age, but she's one sexy lady. Dirty as they come." His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper that forced the other two men to lean in closer. "And speaking of come..." John winked, his cheeks dimpling as he grinned. "She comes like the proverbial steam train." John yanked an imaginary cord apparently level with his head. "Toot-toot!" he said, leaning back in his seat, smirking. "She's one of them mature birds who've got that edge to 'em. You know ... Might not be in the first bloom of youth but still looks good without any clobber on." He blew out his cheeks, obviously reliving some earlier encounter with Suze with no clothes on. "Big tits on her," he added, before ending with, "Pretty girl and pretty fucking sexy."

John speared bacon with his fork, chewing while the other two absorbed the information.

"So, lads," John continued after swallowing part of his breakfast. "What do you reckon? This arvo ... after a bit of kip? We swallow a Viagra each and then I introduce you to Suze and her fit friend?"

Four

"It doesn't matter," Susan lied.

But it did matter.

She was standing on her patio, completely naked, the sun warm on her skin. She'd just ended the call to John and had immediately dialled Stephanie's number.

"Are you sure, Susan? Honest? It doesn't matter?"

Susan gripped her mobile and supressed the urge to scream her frustration.

"Of course not, Steph. It was just an idea. I thought, after what happened between us yesterday afternoon..." A pause before Susan added, "I just thought you might enjoy a little party. You, me and a man I know."

A longer silence ensued. During which Susan said nothing. Nevertheless, while waiting for a response she willed Stephanie to agree.

The sigh that came down the phone did not sound like what she wanted to hear.

Nor was the note of reluctance in Stephanie's tone.

"Oh, Suze ... I ... I'm not sure I could do it. I'm not even sure I believe we did what we did yesterday."

"Didn't you have a good time, Steph?" Susan cut in. She deliberately let an edge slide into her voice, a low, dark yearning. "I can tell you I did. I thought what we did together, you know loving each other that way; I thought it was something special between us."

As she hoped Stephanie would, her friend seized upon the word.

"I did, Suze, I did have a good time. I ... I enjoyed loving together. Really."

Susan sensed her friend had more to say and remained silent, drawing it from Stephanie.

"Doing that with you," Stephanie continued, "loving each other." There was another pause, a short one before: "Is that what you think about it, Suze? Did we make love? Was it an act of love?"

"It can be anything you want it to be, Steph," Susan crooned. "It could simply be about sex, good sex ... great fucking sex if you ask me. But didn't it also make you feel close to me? Didn't something change between us? We're no longer just friends, Steph. There's more to us than that now."

It wasn't a lie. Susan wasn't misleading her friend. Her original motivation had been to scratch the itch, to assuage the need, but when she'd seduced Stephanie, when they had lain together afterwards, Susan had experienced a genuine blossoming of tenderness.

"But you said you want a man to join us. How can that be part of us?" Susan heard the catch in Stephanie's voice as the woman continued, "I don't know, Suze. I don't know about any of it. I'm so confused. Yesterday was such a shock. I didn't know I could be with a woman. And with everything going on with Michael ... I just don't know anything anymore. I can't think straight."

"Is Michael at home now?" Susan asked. Her mind raced, it was slipping away from her. She'd been too greedy too soon. She never should have mentioned involving John. It would have been wiser, with hindsight, to consolidate her seduction of Stephanie. Perhaps she could have contrived some apparently chance meeting with John at a later date? She could have, Susan realised, cursing her impetuosity, arranged for John to call at the house while Stephanie was there. She could have slowly built up to it instead of charging in.

Now it seemed the appointment with John had been a little premature.

"Michael?" Stephanie replied to Susan's question. A pause as though Stephanie was reluctant to admit her husband's absence, then her quiet admission: "He said he was going to play golf."

Regretting the response even as the words came tumbling out, Susan replied with, "And you believe him?" She winced at her acerbic tone. Was she deliberately trying to piss Stephanie off?

Stephanie's reaction was a sigh, followed by a very muted, disconsolate, "No."

"Well, I'll tell you what," Susan said, grateful her friend hadn't bristled. "Why don't you come over here, anyway? It's a gorgeous day. You and I could sunbathe. We could drink some wine and you could try to relax." She chuckled, adding, "I won't jump on you, Steph. It'll be just us, the sunshine and a bottle, maybe two, of rose. If you're still here when John arrives you don't have to have anything to do with him. I won't expect you to do something you don't feel comfortable with. You can leave him to me. I'll look after John."

She thought it wise not to mention that John would be accompanied by two of his friends. If Stephanie knew about the other two, she'd definitely refuse.

Susan also sensed her friend's reticence would be part shock at what had occurred between them and part guilt. She knew Stephanie well enough to realise she had probably been up most of the night, agonised by guilt at what she perceived as her infidelity.

Never mind that Michael had been the first to cheat in the marriage – and in the past hadn't the slimy wanker made it known he fancied Susan? Nothing overt, but he'd made it clear that, if she were willing, he'd be more than happy to indulge in some risqué fun.

But Stephanie wouldn't take her faithless husband's adultery into account. Now, Susan mused, Stephanie probably felt she was just as guilty as Michael.

Susan knew she'd reached a tipping point with Steph. It could go either way. She had to tread very carefully, had to play Stephanie with care in the next few seconds if her plan had any hope of success.

"Didn't you enjoy what we did, Steph?" Susan murmured. "Are you upset about it? Are you angry with me for seducing you?"

"Oh, Suze..." A deep sigh. "It really was lovely. I didn't know you were like that. I didn't know I was like that." A lengthy pause, during which Susan kept quiet – one wrong word and she knew Stephanie would balk completely. "And no, I'm not upset. I'm just, you know, processing it. It was a shock but I did enjoy it, really I did. It was lovely...

"Kissing you was so tender and...

"And loving, like you said."

"So come over, Steph," Susan pressed, gently. "We don't have to do anything else, not if you feel awkward about it. But you know Michael's with her. You know what he's doing. Just come over here and we can talk nonsense and drink some wine. We'll have a laugh like we always used to."

"But what about your friend John? What about him?"

Susan waved a hand, an airy gesture as if John and his presence were of no consequence. "Like I said, if you're still here when he arrives..." Susan crossed her fingers to cancel out the coming fib. "We'll have a drink, nothing else. I'll look after John later. Don't you give it a thought."

And then, finally, after all that blagging, it came: "Well ... Okay..."

Susan grinned and mouthed a 'Yes' to the high blue sky. "I'll put some bottles in the chiller."