Spoils Ch. 02

“Oh, that’s a real shame,” Duncan complained. “I’d really love to…” He got stuck again, and looked forlornly at Lucy, who leaned forward in anticipation, as if she couldn’t guess what he was trying to say. He tried once more. “I’d really love to – er – have another – er – spend some time with you. Know what I mean?”

At any other time, Lucy would have been repulsed and insulted, but now she felt rather proud, and flattered, so she took charge of the conversation. Lowering her voice a little, she asked, mischievously, “D’you mean you’d like to fuck me again, Duncan?” His wide-eyed energetically nodded mute response amused her. Then, somewhere in the back of her mind, a small light bulb flared up. Before she consciously realized what she was doing, she said coyly, “Okay. Give me a ride to Aberdeen, and we can have sex – again.” Smiling benignly, she added, “If that’s what you really want.”

Duncan almost peed himself, he was so surprised, but he recovered fairly quickly. “Right, then,” he said breathlessly. “When d’you want to leave? We can stop at my flat, if you like, before we get onto the motorway.”

While her feelings may have been tumultuously confused, the overriding emotion Lucy felt was one of glee. “My bag’s in there,” she said indicating the little bedroom. “Just let me say good-bye to Maggie and Torin.” As Duncan disappeared after her bag, Lucy headed for the living room.

“Duncan’s driving me to Aberdeen,” she announced. The atmosphere was noticeably strained, and Lucy considered the strange circumstances. She wasn’t sure whether to thank them for their hospitality, or bid them good-riddance.

Torin stood and extended his hand. “It was wonderful to meet you, Lucy,” he said wistfully, not completely unaware of Lucy’s inner distraction. “Sorry you couldn’t stay longer.” Dropping her hand, he leaned forward and gave her a warm, brotherly hug. Lucy could tell he wanted to say more, but knew not what to say. She couldn’t help him there. Her emotions swirled as she returned his hug in kind.

Clasping Lucy’s hands between her own, Maggie looked searchingly into Lucy’s eyes. She believed she could almost see the moral quandary raging in the sweet young traveler. “Good bye,” she said quietly. “God be with you.” Leaning into Lucy, Maggie looped an arm around her waist and planted a chaste but meaningful kiss on Lucy’s cheek.

Lucy felt a pang. She liked Maggie, despite everything, and would have liked to stay longer and really get to know her. “Maybe another time,” she whispered, more to herself.

Maggie nodded, softly agreeing, “Maybe.”

Gently releasing herself from Maggie’s embrace, Lucy whispered, “Bye,” and, with a peck at Maggie’s cheek, she turned to join Duncan at the front door. Her tummy was all a-flutter with the realization of what she was about to do. “Bye,” she called again, over her shoulder, then, not exactly sure what she meant, she added, “Thanks for everything!” as she took Duncan by the hand and raced out to his car.

After opening her door for her and getting her seated, Duncan shot off like the legendary Le Mans start, jumping into place and spinning his tires as he took off. “We’ll just stop at my flat, okay?” he asked, as if still not believing his good fortune.

“Of course,” Lucy tittered. “That’s part of the deal.” She felt as light and giddy as a schoolgirl on a first date. There was a sense of the surreal as Duncan careened across the countryside and into town, to pull up in front of a neat little council-house. Curiously, Lucy noted that her panties were damp. They hadn’t been when she’d left Maggie. Her reaction fueled her anticipation and in detecting the dampness, exacerbated it. If she wasn’t careful, the wet spot would show on her jeans before she even got inside. “Oooooh,” she trilled, quietly, as Duncan raced around to open her door, “What a strange whirligig I’ve managed to find.” Her head was swimming with possibilities and outcomes. Just where she was headed she wasn’t sure, but it seemed certain she was picking up speed. Feeling terribly evil, yet delightfully mischievous, Lucy skipped up the stoop and through the opened doorway. Spinning about the entrance, holding her hands out like a pleased child, she giggled and said, “Well? Where do you want me?”

Duncan’s look dripped with lust and self-satisfaction. After all, wasn’t he about to get a dessert his mates might well kill for? As he pointed toward the bedroom, Lucy threw her arms around him and pulled him hard into her, crushing her tits against his chest, and her lips on his. “How ‘bout right here?” she asked innocently, when he broke for a breath, and she began peeling his shirt from his shoulders. Dropping to her knees right there in the hall, she tugged on his zipper, while pulling out his shirt-tails. Recovering his already turgid penis from his shorts she kissed the tip, then, holding it for a moment, she raised her eyes to his face, batting them ever so slightly. A very slight moan escaped his gaping mouth, as he stared down at this sumptuous vixen. The moment their eyes clashed Lucy slowly and deliberately pushed her mouth over the end of his prick and kept on pushing until it had vanished from his sight. Holding him deep, for a long moment, she gently started to bob up and down the swollen manhood, laving it with her tongue. Moving her hands up under his shirt, she ran them across his chest to dance her fingertips over his nipples. She could feel him trembling at the abrupt escalation of his already inflamed ardour; he wouldn’t last long at this rate. Stilling her fingers and pulling back until only the tip of her tongue stayed in contact with his throbbing and bouncing prick, she asked simply, “What do you want me to do?”

“Ah, ah,” he stuttered, and Lucy was thrilled to realize she was actually calling the shots – she, in fact, held all the power. “Ah, let’s get naked – on the bed, okay?”

“You’re the boss,” she replied, smug with the new understanding that he wasn’t at all.

Scrambling into the bedroom, hopping and tripping, Duncan, tore his remaining clothes from his body and fell to the bed. Lucy followed without his urgency, sashaying into the room removing articles of clothing as she sauntered. Standing next to the bed, she took her time with her bra and panties, turning the two flimsy undergarments into a full-fledged burlesque. Duncan watched, awestruck. It amazed Lucy that she could do it so well, as the only strippers she had ever seen were in a short choppy bar scene in some forgettable B-movie.

Finally naked, she climbed onto the bed next to Duncan, and proceeded to straddle his loins, lowering herself gracefully until she was fully impaled on his twitching erection. As she hit bottom, they moaned in unison. Duncan reached for her tits as she began pumping herself with her thighs. Off and on, on and off, up and down, down and up. Lucy would slow down and pause if she thought Duncan was getting too close, then she’d accelerate briefly just for the effect. She could feel an orgasm growing deep within – sparks flying every time Duncan pinched her nipples, or bumped her cervix with his soldier. Playing him like a fine instrument, Lucy expertly raised him to fever-pitch, then let him down, until, at long last she decided they’d had enough. With a huff and a puff, she suddenly began pogo-ing at high-speed, then sweeping the full-length of his impressive erection, she grazed her clit with the tip before plunging hard against his abdomen. Holding herself tight among his pubic hair Lucy threw her body forward and mashed her lips into his. Everything stopped for an instant, even, it seemed their hearts, then Duncan’s prick began pulsing and spewing, jerking against her inner walls as it spurted again and again. The first splash of semen against her hyper-sensitive womb set off a series of explosions that rocked the very foundations of Lucy’s soul. Her heart pounded and her eyes swam, her cunt wept, its copious juices flowing out into Duncan’s thatch. Pushing her tongue so far into Duncan’s mouth, Lucy threatened to choke him. Duncan could feel his cock, backed by his heaving hips, smashing over and over into the end of Lucy’s box. Eventually their writhing waned and they became still except for their heaving chests and quivering loins. And finally even they were still.

“Well,” Lucy chirped at last, hoisting herself onto one elbow, and smiling mischievously at the splayed, limp figure beside her. “Was that worth a drive to the coast?”

“Ohhhh,” he groaned histrionically, then, swinging his legs off the bed, he replied, his eyes twinkling, “That was worth ‘way more than that. The coast? The world!”

“Well, Aberdeen will be just fine, for now,” Lucy said, reaching down for her clothes. “…’way more than that, eh?” she pondered, filing that remark for future consideration. Aloud she said, “Well, I guess we’d better get going,” and she leaned over to give Duncan a kiss as she wandered off to locate the bathroom.

Hours later, as they buzzed along the motorway, Lucy could feel herself still glowing. There had been something special in that – that midday romp. “Oh, no,” she scolded herself, “this is not love, not even close.” She looked over at Duncan, concentrating on the road, or at least staring intently out the windscreen. Maybe he, too, was revisiting their earlier activities. He was cute, she decided; even lovable, perhaps, but lovable like a puppy is lovable. “No, it’s not love. More like lust – or the power of lust – or, more accurately, the power conferred by lust.” The afternoon sun played across her secret smile, as she reclined contentedly in the speeding car.

As they approached Aberdeen, a wicked thought occurred to Lucy. “Duncan,” she said, as coyly as she could, “how would you like another shot at me?”

Duncan’s head swiveled on his neck like it was on bearings. “What?” His wide eyes had left the road, to stare fixedly on Lucy’s cherubic smile.

“Watch where you’re going, dear,” she said, benignly. His gaze snapped back ahead. Lucy could almost feel the intensity with which he was listening as she asked, “Would you like another go ‘round – with me?”

She smiled at his almost frenetically nodding head. “Would I?” he repeated, incredulously, “Ab-so-fucking-lutely!”

“Why don’t you get us a room for the night? Then we can spend all the time we want – doing just exactly what we want.”

“But I gotta be a work in the morning,” Duncan complained, not believing his bad luck.

However, Lucy just blew it off, pointing out, “You don’t have to stay the whole night. You could leave me there whenever you needed to, eh?”

Duncan’s eyes lit up as he acquiesced. Their clothes didn’t stay on much after the closing of the door, and Duncan was already filling Lucy’s snatch before dark. Donning clothes afterwards, they went out to get something to eat – Duncan’s treat, of course; and, before they’d finished eating, Lucy said, a hint of sadness in her voice, “You don’t have to leave yet, do you?”

“Well,” Duncan allowed, “I could stay another hour or so.”

“Oh, goody,” Lucy chirped, seeming genuinely pleased, which she maybe was, but wheels were turning in her head. He seemed more than willing to meet her demands. As much as she enjoyed the sex – and she really, truly did, there was no question of that – she should make it worth as much as she could. Lucy had idly looked at a map during the drive, so, picking a destination out of the air as much as anything, she asked, timidly, “Do you think you could give me bus fare – coach fare to Blackpool?” Cocking her head slightly, and batting her eyes, she added, coyly, “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Duncan hesitated only briefly – they determined the cost from the desk clerk at the hotel – before he handed the necessary cash to Lucy, lust streaming from his glazed eyes. Ascending back to the room for another quick roll in the hay before heading back home, Duncan marveled at his luck.

Later, he held her hands as they stood staring at one another. It had been very good, again. Duncan’s gaze was glassy-eyed, and he felt he was wandering a dream. Lucy wondered how she had, so quickly, got to this. “Thanks, Lucy,” he said, holding her hands and giving her a kiss in the lobby of the hotel. “That was wonderful – better than wonderful. I can’t believe that I won’t see you again. Please come back, sometime.” Lucy could feel the sincerity in his hug, and she felt almost sad leaving him like that, but…

The next morning Duncan was gone – history, and Lucy, breakfasting alone, was filled with ambivalence. What had she done? She had prostituted herself, manipulating an innocent. Her actions yesterday, she argued, were as bad as the ordeal to which she’d been subjected the day before. Her emotions swirled, having seemingly found another rollercoaster to ride – one moment, she felt guilty and awful and wicked – yet, the next, she felt empowered and free and in control. Despite her upbringing, and her morals, for what they were worth, she decided she liked the latter feeling better – much, much better. And there was a little voice in her head – whether it was the voice of reason, or depravity – that urged her forward. “Go on! Go for it!”

She smiled, looking around her hotel dining room. “I can do this,” she declared aloud, finally feeling a hunger for the breakfast at which she had only toyed. After eating, over her morning coffee, Lucy scanned a free map of the city she had picked up from the desk. Puzzling and deducing she finally figured out her objective.

Every big city has its sleaze – a ‘red light’, sex trade district – if you know where to look. Lucy determined that, in Aberdeen, it would probably be the harbour area, starting around Virginia Street, running down along all the narrow ways – Water Lane, Mearns Street, or James Street – to Regent Quay and along to Waterloo Quay. So, making her way into the harbourside labyrinth, Lucy browsed the local sleaze shops she, indeed, found there, picking up a few items, before heading to the depot to board her coach for Blackpool.

She amazed herself at how calm she felt – how empowered. She had almost no idea what to expect in Blackpool, but that just added to the adventure. Changing in the station washroom, she emerged looking rather less innocent than she had been a mere three days earlier, arriving on a different bus at a small Scottish town. Now, instead of jeans, she wore a short, stretchy skirt; and her new tee-shirt sexily revealed a not insubstantial cleavage.

Continued in Spoils- Part 3.