Lured by Luxury

Having resolved that problem she knew then that she could not tell Barton immediately. He would tell her to get rid of it. So those early months passed, with only Barton's frugal demands on her body to cloud the issue. Her breasts became just a little tender on the rare occasions he spent much time on them, and it gave her a special thrill to stand naked and sideways to a mirror, and see that subtle bulge develop.

About that time, she began to worry when Barton demanded to enter her vaginally. More and more, she directed him to her mouth, the three minute job as she thought of it. But on the few times he did part her thighs he did not give time to noticing her growing lower belly.

Then, on his way out one night in Bristol, just when she was thinking that Barton would have to be blind not to notice how her belly was beginning to blossom, he told her that he would be bringing a new client home with him. His look at Linda had told her that she would be on offer. It had been a long break from this unknown factor, but now she was worried. Would this guy notice? He was bound to.

Knowing it was going to happen she bathed, and lay in bed resolving to touch herself to moisten any severe intrusion. When the internal phone rang she was taken by surprise. It was Barton telling her he would be back at about eleven, and ordered her to wear loose fitting clothes, specifying things she might be finished with.

Before she could question this unusual request Barton had hung up.. Puzzled, she searched out a bright orange blouse, a flaring cotton skirt, which hid her bump well. Thin bra and panties were no problem, but the why of it all bothered her. So when eleven arrived, she was dressed to order and anxious.

Just after eleven she heard the outer door open and close, followed by rough laughter. Voices were low pitched, but she heard occasional odd words and phrases-"Good, pure stuff, that hairy. A supply of dust a bonus." "that door." "been told." There was a long silent pause, before the door handle turned, and Linda drew in a deep breath, before standing up to meet this prospective intruder to her body.

The dark haired man was in white shirt and dark pants. He was tall, seemed well built and his eyes defied colour identification. With his back to the door, he appraised Linda, his eyes moving from her face, slowly down. He nodded with approval, before nodding to a chair, "Sit yourself down, while I get undressed. Call me Ralph."

Immediately, he stripped off his shirt to reveal a muscular chest. When he lowered his pants she saw a well toned belly. Sorry, I can't reciprocate, she thought crazily. His boxer shorts dropped and she was looking at a very large erection. He grinned, "Like what you see?" And she was chilled when he added, "Fancy a bit of rough?." Her head shook numbly.

"You might like it," he said, moving towards her, gesturing for her to stand. As she gained her feet, he grabbed her shoulders, pulled her close, and his mouth smashed wetly against hers. Hungrily his hands tore at her blouse, causing the buttons to pop, and Linda could see the reason for Barton's instructions. Her bra was quickly dragged away and his mouth and hands were clawing and biting at her tender breasts, so that she could not resist a whimper of pain.

"Ah, yes," he gasped, sucking hard on her nipple, "I knew you'd like it like this. Now let's have the rest of it."His hand immediately drove between her thighs, rubbing hard before he was tugging at her skirt. Once it was split away, he stepped back his hands on her panties, ready to tear them off. He stopped, and she saw the stunned look on his face as he gazed at her belly.

"Jesus, you're pregnant. He didn't tell me that."

"He didn't know." Linda told him.

"Hell, I can't-my wife—"He stopped himself, before he grabbed her , turned her and pushed her so that she was leaning forward with her face on the bed. Her panties were quickly ripped away, and his hands parted her thighs. All his movements now seemed laboured, less certain.

His large erect penis ploughed into her vagina from behind, but it didn't push hard, and he stopped halfway. She heard him curse and pull back out of her, "Can't do it," he moaned, as his hands forced her to turn and go down on her knees. "Just suck me off, will you? For God's sake." It seemed he was still trying to be the tough man but was failing.

Linda, once again, resisted this oral intrusion. But in the end she succumbed to his extra strength. As his penis was forced into her mouth, she fond that it had faded to only semi-erect, but that made the tastes on it more obvious, as he ordered, "Suck it back to size."

His softened rod lay along her tongue as she slowly sucked on it, occasionally pushing the head into her cheek. It wasn't long before Linda felt her mouth filling as his erection grew and hardened. This Ralph now began thrusting his hips, carrying the bloated head so far down into her throat that she retched, before he drew back, and thrust again. He was adopting a steady rhythm as his hands stroked her hair and cheeks.

Then, he started rambling about how his wife had been pregnant three times, and they had two children. His wife wouldn't do certain things that he wanted. "Like this, for instance," he said, touching Linda's cheek where it momentarily bulged with his penis head. "And the rough stuff— something in me needs that."

He was quiet as his breathing quickened, and his pushes into the back of her throat increased. She heard him groan, and prepared herself as his hands tightened on the back of her head, making it quite clear that there was going to be no escape from the eruption that was coming.

When it came, his climax was mind boggling. Glancing up she saw his head thrown back. Here it comes, she thought. But the force of his penis slamming into her throat as it threw out cascade after cascade of his stuff, filling her throat, filling her mouth, almost choking her, was beyond anything she could have imagined. Even when the flow had eased, his penis remained erect, as he gently swayed into her face. Then, as it softened, he removed it swiftly, wiped it with a tissue, and said a quiet, "Thank you."

Next morning she was awakened by Barton storming into the bedroom, waving his cell phone in the air. "You fucking bitch," he screamed, and Linda was sure he was going to strike her as his hand reached out. But he pulled back the covers to reveal her naked bare belly.

"Listen to this. Listen!" His voice was almost a screech as he began to read from the phone, "Bastard. You didn't tell me she was up the stick. Bloody good head though."

"He knew before I did."

"I told him that."

"Get rid of it," he snapped.

"It's too late for that, "she told him without much conviction.

"It's never too late. Get rid."

She had known it would come to this. "It's over the twenty four week time. Abort it now and it becomes murder. Can we afford that?" She had no idea about the legality of that, but it put him on pause before he scowled at her, and said, "Bloody good head, eh? Prove it."

Relieved, she proceded to do a job on his limp penis, which meant it added two minutes to the normal routine.

Strangely, after that, life was not so bad for Linda. She continued to swell, she was sure her face puffed up too, and her breasts were very sensitive. Of course, Barton's attitude changed. He was less generous with any money he allowed her, but knowing about the pregnancy meant that he was only interested in using her mouth. He rarely even touched her body, and Linda was perfectly happy with their brief three minute sessions even though, she told herself, she would never get used to the taste.

Frequent visits to different clinics had kept her reassured about the condition of herself and the baby. But, as her time moved closer, she began wondering about how she would handle things when the baby arrived. That thinking had not developed far when that fateful night came along. They were in an, as usual, posh hotel near Wick, up in the far north of Scotland. A fishing port, so she guessed Barton was probably collecting his usual supply. She had noticed how their travels always included a port before moving inland.

He had been away most of the afternoon, and well into the evening. Linda was in bed when she heard the door open and close, and there was laughter and voices. She listened more closely. There were definitely two men, one being Barton, but there was a third voice—a woman's voice! Linda heard her high giggling , as she said, "Now? If you want," Her voice dropped for a moment, before Linda picked her up again. "Up or down?" A man's voice replied, "Both." The woman responded, "Greedy. Come on then."

It was clear they had gone into the adjoining bedroom. Linda heard chuckling tones, "Don't make a mess in there." And what Barton said next brought a chill over Linda's skin, "Don't take too long. I might fancy giving her a taste of what she can look forward to."

A warm night and the bedroom windows were open, and Linda could hear something of the activity. The woman's eager voice, "Ooh, you are big. I'll bring it down to size." Chuckles.

Sounds of pleasure from the man, "Oh, yes, oh, baby. Down?"

"No, no, up me, up me. Oh, God, yes, fill me, fill me,"

Linda had heard enough. She needed to know what was going on, but before she went out she decided that she wouldn't be dressed provocatively. She wanted no part of what was happening here. Quickly she shed her thin nightgown and pulled on panties, a bra and her blue summer dress. Try to look normal, with a jutting belly.

In the lounge, Barton was leaning back on a sofa, a drink in his hand, and he appeared to have his ear cocked towards the other room.

"What's going on, Barton?" Linda asked, trying to make it sound like a reasonable request.

He looked at her, and just smiled, "Ah, Linda, fancy a drink?"

"You know I don't now." She had cut out alcohol many months earlier. "Who are they?"

"Strangers in the night," he chuckled, half singing it. "At least he is. It's their first meeting. Busy aren't they?" He looked towards the closed bedroom again, "Yes, indeed. Oh, I did remember you only take milk at night. Look it's there on the sideboard for you."

Too agitated to speak, she went to the sideboard, collected her milk, took a long, pleasingly cool, gulp at it, before coming back to stand over Barton, wishing she had the guts to pour the milk over him.

His eyes swung up and over her,"God, Linda, you look really swell-really, really swell." And he laughed delightedly at his stupid joke. Furious, Linda took another mouthful of drink.

At that moment, the bedroom door opened, and a totally naked blonde, with large breasts, half staggered into the room, started to say, "My God, he's an ani—"She stopped and grinned stupidly at Linda, who couldn't taker her eyes off the shaved pudenda. The woman mocked, "Ooh, nice belly."

This one looked like the mother of all harlots, but what was wrong with her? As Linda looked the woman's body bent crazily sideways, behind her a fattish man in only boxer shorts was coming through a crooked doorway and he looked twisted. In fact everything was twisting. Desperately Linda blinked her eyes, as from a great distance the woman's voice hooted, "Fucked one too many, dearie." Linda just had time to look at her glass in realisation as it slipped from her hand, and fell. She too, was falling, falling unable to keep herself from the blackness that opened up to swallow her.

Slowly, very slowly, Linda wished the black horses would stop galloping past. Not horses, water. Water rolling like the sea. She opened her eyes to see a dark night, with few stars above her. Where was she? Lying on wood, and she was chilled. She closed her eyes, allowing her senses to come back.

Gradually, the image of a naked blonde, sneering, came to her. A half naked man behind her. Everything twisting. Why? How was she out here? Out where? Where was Barton? The milk! Had he put something in it?

Cautiously, she moved her legs until her feet were on the ground, and she could sit up. She was on a bench set back from the road, and all she had on in the cool evening air, was her blue dress. Across a field she could tell, in spite of the dark, that the land fell away, and beyond was the glow of a heaving sea. Now she heard it, rolling over rocks.

She had been dumped out here, alone. Barton, the bastard. This was his way of disposing of her and the baby.. She climbed to her feet, hoping and praying that the drug, and this exposure had not hurt her baby. The sky appeared lighter over the sea.. If that was sunrise, then that was east and if she wanted to follow the coast to her right, that would be south.

Linda began walking, while her mind teasingly played with the thought, 'If something appears to be too good to be true, it probably is." The cruelty of that lay heavily over her.

It was morning when she spotted what looked like a cafe ahead, and there were trucks lined up outside. Maybe she could get a lift south.

The eyes looking at me were filled with tears, as she shrugged, sipped at her coffee, and said, "And that's it. I was in that cafe an hour and a half before you came in." Her mouth puckered before she added, "Virgin to slut in less than twelve months."

I don't know at what point in Linda's story I had covered her hand with mine. I suddenly realised it was there, and she hadn't flinched away from my touch. Her account had been so open, so frank in her revelations, that shock, surprise and disgust had flowed through my head. Not for her, but for those who had treated her in that way.

I was uncertain of how to handle the anger I was feeling, as I asked her, "What was one of the first things you said to me?"

Linda looked uncertain before shaking her head.

"All men are bastards,"I told her, "and I can see exactly why you'd come to that conclusion."

Her head tilted to one side as though in apology, "I didn't mean -"

"You had every right. My God, those men—that Barton character—they couldn't even accept the gift of your body with any kind of respect."

My anger could only burst out in words, and Linda could only stare at me, her blue eyes wide in surprise at my vehemence.

All I could do in my feeling of futility, was talk big. "Linda, you know when I punched that guy back at the cafe?"

Linda nodded, still unsure of my mood, "He was the first person I have ever struck in anger, but, right at this moment, if I had the guys you've told me about here in front of me I would cheerfully smash them to pieces."

Yes, it was a little extreme, but it was a release for the frustration I felt."I'm sorry I made you angry," Linda said softly," but I'm glad as well. It means you believe me."

Her hand was still there under mine, and I gave it a squeeze.

"Why are you being so kind to me?" she asked, then suddenly grunted in shock, and her mouth went into a little 'ooh' shape.

"What's wrong?" I asked anxiously.

But she gave me an enigmatic smile, lifted my hand, and pulled it to a certain spot on her swollen belly. Any embarrassment I might have felt was instantly dispelled by a sudden thump against my hand.

"Feel it?" she asked. "It's kicking time."

I couldn't help laughing with the pleasure and relief of it, "Does that happen often?"

"Lately, yes."

"I'd say you've got a centre forward in there."

We laughed together for just a moment before her eyes looked into mine again, "You didn't answer my question."

"Don't you think it's about time someone was kind to you?"

"Yes, but -"

"Linda, clear your mind, there is nothing I want but to see you safely delivered to your sister.."

Later, after a little supper, and more chat, we went back to the room. She asked for my phone to try her sister again. I hadn't the heart to tell her that she was getting an unavailable response.

When, once again she shook her head, told me it was the same tone, I brought up the subject she had recently talked about. "You're pretty sure it was drugs, he dealt in?"

"I heard him, when he brought what he called clients back to the room, always talked about 'quality', about 'dust' and once it was about 'a large supply of 'hairy', and not wanting anything weakened."

I'd heard the term 'hairy' on the road, I knew it referred to heroin. "His car, would you know its registration number or make."

"I know it exactly," she said, a little frown furrowing her brow." He just got it a couple of weeks ago. He changed cars about every two or three months."

"A sure sign of wanting to avoid recognition. Did he change his name at hotels?"

Linda shook her head, "I never watched when he checked in. But this car was a Jaguar, dark blue, and the number was RD 7."

"Just that?"

"Yes," she laughed, "otherwise I mightn't have remembered it."

"The name of the hotel back there?"

"The Linstock."

"And it's Franden, Barton Franden."

She nodded, "Why are you asking these questions now?"

I took a breath, "Linda, I can't punch this guy's lights out but the police might be very interested in his activities."

Her face showed utter dismay, "Oh, not the police."

Gently I placed my hands on her shoulders, looked into those azure eyes, and said, "Linda, There'll be no involvement. I'll only go to a public phone box, ring Inverness police, and give them what basic information you've given me. That's all. If they want to act on that, then fine, if not—well, at least we tried. But, no involvement to worry about. Okay?"

Still looking dubious, she nodded, and gave me a weak smile. "While I'm out, have a good soak in the bath" I suggested. "There are towels, and then tuck yourself up in one of those beds."

After much searching for a public phone, and then waiting to get through I finally spoke to a sergeant , who wanted my name, but I told him that the only name he needed was Barton Franden, adding that he might not be using that name. After identifying the car and giving the name of the hotel, I hung up. It was up to them now.

By the time I got back only Linda's head showed above the covers of the bed nearer the window. She appeared to be asleep, but as I closed the door she opened her eyes, and said, "I was lying here thinking you might not come back."

"Forget that," I told her firmly. "Anyway, job done. The police will act or they won't. Anonymous phone calls could be hoaxes."

Linda pulled the covers closer around her bare shoulders, and, as she settled down, she murmured, "Thank you, Frank."

It was the first time she had used my name. Now why should something as simple as that give me such a buzz? I stripped down to my boxers, climbed into bed, and pondered this unlikely situation. Here I was sharing a bedroom with what I considered was a most beautiful young lady. Had I ever shared a bedroom with a good looking woman before? Yes, quite a few times, but never without a full sexual outcome.

Many had been, during my travels through the country. Some had been when I had taken overnight stops, and had been lucky enough to encounter a willing evening partner. A few of my encounters had been in the open air, in a handy wooded area, in an enclosed field, or, more hastily and less satisfying, against a wall outside a pub. In general, I chose carefully, and tried to obtain, as well as getting a degree of my own satisfaction, some rousing response from my partner. .

It is not a wild boast to say that in most cases I was able to leave the lady well serviced. That success was due, without any doubt, to my three month affair with Lorna Brewis, a twenty eight year old divorcee, who I met when I was in my second year at Loughborough University, which was not far from my home in Derby and conveniently close to hers. Before meeting her I'd had one fumbling, clumsy, failure with a highly frustrated university colleague. I failed too, on my first drunken encounter with Lorna. It wasn't just the drink that gave me rose tinted spectacles. She was a gorgeous lady with an amazingly curvaceous body, which I got to know extremely well in our short time together.