tagErotic CouplingsNew Year Serenade Pt. 0

New Year Serenade Pt. 0

byfeart©

Obnoxious new acquaintance Janine has surprised Jim with the beauty of her singing voice, and has succeeded in turning a New Year hug into something more intimate. New in town, the IT consultant may be succumbing to her devious plans for his seduction, while his wife has been decoyed elsewhere. Janine has found an excuse for stripping down to her underwear and Jim is going along with it...

**********

"Oh," she called through. "Can you close the curtain on that window on the left? Just that one."

"Okay. Seems a bit weird, I mean doing one but not all."

"Ah. There's a reason, but if I told you I'd have to kill you."

As I complied, I looked out through the rest of the window bay. The fireworks were over, but the lights on the sides of the estuary were a decoration in their own right.

"Do you ever go for walks by the river?" I asked as it seemed like a nice idea.

"Why? Are you inviting me?"

"I wondered if there were some nice places to go. Err what are we doing now?"

"Helping ourselves to more drink and then you can help me choose some clothes."

As she came back in, I got a good look at her. She was tricked out for an evening idling on the chaise longue in a brothel. A black suspender belt embroidered in scarlet rode on her hips like a gunslinger's holster set, with its straps, suggestive of restraint, and the silvery mechanism of the clasps. Dark seams ran over the curves of her legs from thigh to ankle. The knickers were worn on the outside, ready to drop in an instant. At the bottom of them, her pubic hair showed like a dark promise. Her belly was maybe a little bit saggy, but I was past caring.

"Does Jill...?"

Wear stuff like this? I shook my head. Jill's style you might describe as tastefully minimalist, pastel colours, cotton trouser suits, flat shoes. Whereas Janine's was more saloon bar whore. The question reminded me that Jill and Rab might return at any time. I have to confess that I had enjoyed the role of wardrobe assistant, leering at Janine's curvy body, and getting off on the sleazy glamour of her call girl's deshabille. However, I didn't feel I wanted to be caught at it.

"Maybe we should get a move on with choosing these clothes."

"Cheers!" she said, defying urgency with a clinking of glasses. Then she led me out by the hand through the hall and into a bedroom. There was a full length floor mirror on casters there. Presently, she was standing in front of it in her underwear. I was to stand behind, holding up the dresses in front of her.

However, I was initially distracted by the presence of a curtained four poster bed, obviously faux but rather Henry the Eighth in its pretensions. Still, I had a job to do here.

After a few tries, we were looking at a flimsy black number. She leaned back hard against me. "Yes. That one," she said and clasped her hands over mine for a moment, so that they went down onto her breasts.

It was a temptation too far. I let them slip slightly so that I could feel the nipples underneath. My hands rocked on the them imperceptibly. She caught my eye in the mirror and her eyebrows lifted in theatrical surprise. Very carefully, she slid her hands away, taking the dress with them, and cast it aside onto a chair which she was using as a clothes horse. I started to steer my hands round and round. She made a humming 'Mmm' sound, and I lost her gaze as she closed her eyes in a feigned swoon of ecstasy, while I pushed my face into the space above her shoulder to nuzzle her neck. I felt the nipples harden under the palms of my hands, something that I had not felt for some time.

She started humming that song again. She was playing me like a fiddle, and I knew it. Before, she had used a handful of role-plays to draw me into character as her lover, and through physical empathy to suggest that this role would be enjoyable and that if it moved on to intercourse that we would find ourselves very suited to each other and that it would come easily. But it was no longer suggestion: I was rubbing her tits and she was getting excited; and so was I.

"Oh god, you bad man," she murmured. "You're making me wet."

I put Jill out of my mind. She was an untidy appendage to a situation that was resolving itself so very neatly: If Janine was offering sex, I was taking it. I knew that now. After some rumination, I had decided that her argument had traction: a marriage that was going nowhere should be no impediment to this. And aspects of her character that I had had reservations about seemed to show in a different light now. As she revealed more about her herself and as I began to sense the physical affinity between us, I saw that there was no impediment here either. There was another reason why we shouldn't though, wasn't there? But I'd forgotten...

Rather swiftly she swivelled round, slipping her arms around my neck, and started kissing me hard. "God I love guys like you. You're like a bit of string..." she sighed and her tongue trilled on my lips and then swept slowly round inside.

I bit her tongue—not hard but enough to startle her. She banged her knuckles against the side of my head.

"What the fuck did you do that for?"

"So I'm not doing everything by your orders."

"Don't you want to? But promise me you won't do that again."

"Okay. I promise. You can do it to me," I said and grabbed her hard and pushed into her mouth. The truth was I'd been dying to kiss her again.

I dropped my hands and felt that epic arse under my fingertips. I had a near naked woman in my arms with my tongue down her throat and her hands all over me. She had my shirt wide open and her fingertips were roving all over my back.

Then my brain woke up again and I remembered about Jill and Rab. I could not have them walk in on us in flagrante.

"Perhaps this is not such a good idea. Perhaps you should get some clothes on."

"I want to give you another kiss, my best one."

"What if they come back? I think you should get some clothes on before they come back."

She dropped away from me but then slunk round my back, trailing her fingers on my shoulder in passing. Then she was hugging me from the back.

"You don't need to worry about them coming back. I've got a confession to make to you, but you've got to let me give you that kiss and," she whispered into my ear so that I quivered, "you've got to promise to shut your eyes until I let you open them."

"Okay. But be quick, I want you to get some clothes on. Right. I've closed them."

Deft hands reached round as she started to undo my belt. Then she unfastened my trousers, unzipped my flies and pulled the whole lot down with my underpants. This was done with almost disturbing speed and dexterity. I was tingling, but still taken by surprise when she gripped my balls and started kneading them, and feeling my penis from the tip through to the perineum. After a little while, she moved round and got down kneeling on the floor in front of me.

"Okay you can open your eyes."

She took hold of my penis in her fist and started to masturbate it, looking up with derision while she licked my balls for a bit. As her tongue slithered over them and she took them in her mouth, my brain went for a walk.

She paused from this work. "That confession I got to make? I was not acting decoy for Rab. It was the other way round. Rab and Jill won't be here for quite some time. But don't worry about her. Nothing's going to happen to Jill. She's not actually his type either."

"So what's going to happen to me?"

"You? This is where you get seduced."

She pumped my cock a few times. Then, in a red blur, her lips slid down it like a monkey on a stick and she went to work on it with an expertise born of long practice. I relaxed as I realised that she was careful to keep her teeth clear. She was staring up at me, her eyes blazing with the triumph of conquest. My cock felt as stiff as a steel bar. There was no withdrawal possible from her now without orgasm so desperately was I aroused. I couldn't have disengaged even if a TV crew were to turn up to take pictures.

She paused and reached behind for something which she held under her nose as if it were a fragrant bloom, breathing in ecstatically, before passing it into my hand. It was a Durex in its wrapper.

"Open it," she said with a face as fierce as the east wind outside. "Now."

I opened the foil wrapper and put the contents into her waiting hand. I might as well be signing a contract and we both knew it. She took hold of my penis and unrolled the condom carefully down the shaft and gave me another fierce look.

" Now switch that phone off."

There was a bit of me that wanted to put her smug face in, but somehow my resentment made me just feel even more aroused and I dealt with the phone. She took my cock in her mouth again, her tongue flickering over it.

"This is going to be the best New Year you've ever had."

That's a big promise. It's worth remembering those words.

She had all the momentum and when she stood up and led me over to the bed I had no will to resist. I was frantic with desire, and wanted my clothes off as quickly as possible. I wanted to cross the line as quickly as possible, to be compromised as quickly as possible and to do whatever she wanted before any sensible thought could come along and spoil things. Janine had already undone just about everything that fastened and in deference to her care for her own clothes I folded my trousers and shirt on the back of a chair.

I slid her knickers down and she stepped out of one leg. There's something about a pair of knickers dangling on an ankle... this potent symbol of easy virtue was an irresistible provocation and I tried to pull her onto the bed.

"Patience," she said and turned down the duvet, then lay on her back.

She took my hand and led it down to her cunt and started me off. I palmed it, making a paddle of my fingers and sending them round the pubic bone, working her clitoris with the middle finger. Then I probed, waiting for her to get wet. My finger plunged inside and I moved it in and out for a while, as Janine continued to masturbate me.

"Come here," she said urging me onto her. "Put it in."

As I clambered on, she took charge of my penis, guiding it into her. For a moment I felt as if I was swimming into a warm pool where cares did not exist. But immediately, the throbbing between my legs shrieked for movement.

"Fuck me. Fuck me," she murmured. "God, Jim, I want it. Fuck me. Fuck me. I'm the one you want to be with."

Oh god. I'm fucking another woman.

Somehow I hadn't given it a thought before but it came to me with a mixture of relief and despair. Briefly an image of Jill and Simon went by like a poster flashing in the window of a tube train. And then it was gone: they were strangers to me. Everything else was lost in the red glare of sexual opportunity and the rhythms of this seductive gatecrasher.

Janine was jerking and starting to moan, her arse lifting off the bed. Her arms had slipped around my waist. I felt the stealthy touch of her hands moving onto my bare buttocks, caressing them momentarily before she gathered them to her, as though trying to force me further inside.

Her tempo was all I could feel, relentless as a train, and I fell in with it, my heart beating a love tattoo. To begin with, we were marching to the beats of different drums, but then somehow they fell in with each other and I let her steer the pulse. Our hips were rolling back and forth together with an utter fluency now, as if we'd always belonged to each other. But that wasn't true or at any rate had not been at one time.

There had been Jill. I belonged to Jill didn't I? But now I wanted to run from her and the dismal climate of our relationship. I would go faster and faster to pull clear of these outstretched arms of imprisonment and run into those of another.

With every thrust, I seemed to belong to Janine a little bit more. As if she'd read my mind she murmured, "Fuck me... Fuck me... Oh yeah, fuck me... Fuck me, fuck me, and forget her."

My body was roaring with desire and I couldn't stop now even if I wanted to.

I was helplessly in love with this stranger, and the only thing that mattered in the world was to come inside her, in her special place, and to bring her to the orgasm which was not far off. She was panting and moaning, arse lifting off the bed and jiggling from side to side. I could feel the scarlet talons digging into my arms and shoulders in sudden pulses. Maybe there would be marks, but I didn't care. Her body arched and then fell back. Where I was was where I wanted to be and nothing mattered apart from this fuck. Nothing mattered apart from giving way to the lust and the irresponsible pleasure which she alone seemed to promise; and more than that, I must push on as quickly as possible to my own climax before her cunt became too tender. When it came, it seemed as if it was gushing out of me to join some swirling torrent.

"You can stop," she whispered loudly and slapped my back with both hands very fast. "I'm full a yer spunk now," she said of the semen which had been scripted to accumulate in the Durex. She was smiling, delighted, almost giggling.

"Is it okay?"

"D'ye mean is your spunk okay or are you asking me if I came? Yes, yes. Both. Really. Honestly. Just hold me for a bit."

We lay there for a while in silence, absorbing the enormity of what had happened. She kissed my head and played with my hair. The touch of her hands on my body was soothing and gentle now, not an instrument of arousal. I was just lying there blasted.

Is this love? I asked myself. And that was it, wasn't it?

Well... that's how it should have been.

But actually it wasn't.

**********

"That thing you did, what was it?"

"What thing?"

"Well, there was a problem, but you did something."

"Oh that. I call it 'raising Lazarus'."

Yes. What I've just written was how it should have been. But it wasn't, because I missed out a whole load of stuff in that version, dumping it on the cutting room floor.

It was just after she said, "This is going to be the best New Year you've ever had."

It nearly became the worst.

I was about to make that move to ease her knickers down, when she said:

"Why are you doing this? You. Yes. You. Why are you doing this?"

**********

Right at that moment, Janine was looking very good indeed—pretty fucking great actually. At that moment the fact that she was drunk and talked too loud, and the fact that I'd caught her looking at people like dirt, all that counted for nothing. I wanted to cuddle up next to her at least. I could imagine that her face might not look too great of a morning, that her body might not seem so inviting if I was sober, but right at that moment if she had decided that she wanted my cock inside her I'd have followed her to hell.

Back in the restaurant, when I could see that she was determined to break into our conversation, I tried to warn Jill, dropping a kind of code word we have into the conversation, a phrase standing for 'this one is a headbanger'. Right from the word 'go', I knew that Janine was trouble, and I had wanted to put some distance between ourselves and her, before drink started to overcome good intentions with an agenda set by this alarming and provocative woman.

Against my better judgement, and guarded by denial, thoughts of sex kept coming before me, thoughts involving this flashy looking woman in a red dress. In the years before I met Jill, from time to time I would fall unwisely and drunkenly into bed with other similarly drunk people, choices we would likely not have made sober. Now there was a bit of me that wanted to be exposed again to this kind of temptation.

Jill is notoriously fair minded. It's a dangerous trait, but there you are. Anyway, before long, she responded with a code word meaning 'she's harmless'. I would like to have told Jill about the contempt for her I had read in Janine's face before she decided to launch her charm offensive. But we had no code for that.

On your own head be it then Mrs Buckley, I thought, taking a discreet view of the black substance of Janine's petticoat peeping from under her dress. Later I would wonder what Jill might have thought if she'd been able to see how much a mere three hours had thawed relations between Janine and myself; to see how we had arrived at the point where I was cosying up to her on her bed; and to see how happy I was for her to hold my cock in her fist while she fed our new understanding with a steady wrist movement and conducted her interrogation.

**********

"Why are you doing this?" began the wrist driven interrogation. It was just as I thought that our brief relationship was about to be consummated.

I pulled up sharp. I didn't intend to spoil a luminous sexual opportunity like this by telling the truth to a woman who not only gave every indication of being a red hot fuck, but also of being a major pain in the arse. So I thought for a moment.

"I'm attracted to you. You're a very attractive woman."

"Is that right? So what is there that is so attractive about me?"

Christ. This was worse than the job interview.

"I love your voice, I mean especially since I heard you sing. I kind of fell for it in a big way. I love that slow vibrato. It's not overdone, and you have real feeling for the music."

"Mm hmm. What else? What else is attractive about me?"

"You have beautiful eyes. You know that. I could have fallen into them and gone into a trance. Oh—and you have a fantastic arse."

"I've got a fantastic cunt too."

"Yes and of course I love your forthrightness and lack of bullshit." There's probably some special part of hell reserved for people who lie as much as I had just managed there.

"I'm a Marmite sort of gal, love me or hate me. What else do you find attractive about me?"

"Well. You're a great kisser and I already said I like what you wear."

"But not more than what Jill wears?"

I paused before answering.

"You want the truth? What you wear really excites me. It's better than what she wears. But she is my wife, so..."

"You don't want to be disloyal? I understand that. It's nice." She might be saying that but she couldn't get this nasty smirk off her face. "She was talking about me when I went to the toilet. Wasn't she?"

"No. I don't think so."

"Well I heard something like 'red dress syndrome'. What do you think about that?"

"About red dresses?"

"That wasn't the question, but yes, what do you think about red dresses?"

"Mm... women in red dresses make me think of sex. Sorry. It's not very sophisticated but I guess men are really predictable. Take some girl I wouldn't look twice at passing on the street, put her in a classic red dress, I find that I become excited. It's like a bull and a red rag or a laboratory animal and a beacon of some frequency or something. I—I was trying not to look at you in that place because I was worried that I might make an exhibition of my self."

"Aye. Well I heard what I heard, and I saw you having a good look at the bottom of my dress. What were you thinking then?"

"I was thinking that the red of your dress looked well together with the black underwear—"

"How did you know I had black underwear?"

"Err, well you do."

"You didn't know that unless you were peeping, pervert."

"I kind of did. I kind of knew you had to be that kind of woman."

"What kind is that?"

"The kind who wears black underwear and gets noticed by men."

"You mean men like you?"

"I was also thinking about how nice it might be to put my hand up your dress and feel your legs and then... "

"And then?"

"And then to push up between your legs and feel your cunt."

"Go ahead then. Feel it."

She put her hands behind her and undid her bra. Her breasts spilled out like an invitation. They were generous: probably a C, but firm and self-supporting and the nipples were wonderful, bursting out like buds coming through in the spring.

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