Traded on the Love Exchange Pt. 03

Then he smooths my bobbed hair down and holds my head. I take him deep as he thrusts and thrusts. I don't bother holding his shaft. It isn't long enough anyway, and I want to use my mouth. Up and down I go, and he shouts again, then lets go of my head to wave his arms.

I love the taste of raw cock, but don't have it often because of the health risks. This one is delicious though, and I get as much of it in before withdrawing and licking the meaty glory of his groin.

"Oh, that's... That's all right, is it?" he gasps, astonished.

I lick until I can no longer taste him, only myself. Then I suck his cock again, but with smaller movements this time so I can lash it with my tongue, pushing the foreskin up and down and rubbing the exposed head with the rough surface of my taste buds.

"Fucking hell!" he shouts. "Kelly, for fuck's sake stop or I will drown you in semen!"

Semen? He really is a farmer.

"How--how do I put it in you?"

I turn so I land on my hands and knees, then pull my panties off and extend my bottom to him. I'm still well-lubed from where Mutant John fucked me, and Gordon is slick with my saliva.

"Like that," I whisper.

He falls to his knees, and then he is in me.

I had expected some questing probe movement, but no. Gordon is, as I surmised, a practical man. He has surveyed the area to be fucked, perhaps like the vagina of a cow who needs to be impregnated with a litre of bull spunk in some kind of gigantic turkey baster, and thrust the matter firmly home. Now it's my turn to scream -- he is smaller than Mutant John thank God, but still has an impressive girth.

"Shhhh," he says, and strokes my hips. "Shhhh..."

I calm my ragged breath, and relax onto him as he lays me on my front, grips my shoulders and begins to slide in and out of me. He is clumsy, and I can believe he has not done this for a long time. To his credit he seems to understand and compensates with gentleness, which delights us both.

"You feel so good inside," he says, and buries his face in my hair. "You're so beautiful. I had to have you, had to..."

"I'm glad you're having me," I sigh as he moves that solid, tender girth as far in as he can get.

"I never knew it could be like this, with a woman like you... Oh Lord. The world is so big, so big..."

"Vast and fabulous..."

"So rich..."

"Yes..."

"Fertile..."

"Mmmm... yes..."

Our voices blend until no one can tell who is speaking, as if we have become psychic, and then, quite unexpectedly, he rolls us onto our sides.

He grips Big Clit in one strong, calloused hand.

I tense, because I didn't expect it, not that I mind.

"That okay, Kelly?"

"Oh yes!"

"You don't mind me touching it."

"No! Touch it all you want! Do what you want with it."

He grips tight.

"Like that?"

"Tighter."

He does so. I scream and twitch in his arms as Big Clit hardens in his brutal, loving grip. He begins to thrust harder into me.

"That's it my darlin'," he whispers in my ear. "I'll milk you like the sweet bitch cow you are."

"Oh! Oh!"

"Milk you and fill you with milk you hot fucking sweet tranny cunt."

"Cunt... Cunt...!"

The friction on Big Clit is ridiculous, overwhelming. I have never been held like this before. I don't know how he does it, but the man is a fucking hand-job genius. Soon I am shaking in his arms and he has to use his entire great strength to restrain me. I buck and scream, almost out of my mind now as the fire roars before me like a glimpse into my raging, chaotic, lust-mad soul --

When I come, I shoot straight into the flames and there's a sizzling as my juice hits the blazing logs. On and on I go -- where is it all coming from? He is milking me right enough, more than I have ever been milked before. Everything that has happened blazes in my core as yet more orgasm tears through me like a demon ripping itself free. I don't care if I head-butt Gordon, or smash anything up. I am nothing but sensation, the night's madness having worn away reason. I exist merely to procreate in frenzied gouts, expending myself in a series of superheated jets to leave nothing but steam...

Gordon comes in me at the same time, his grip on my slippery body as tight as he can get it as I scream and thrash, convinced I am now a liquid entity spending itself in a last paroxysm of pure uncompromised existence. Only the pounding in my pussy convinces me I still exist, and that my physical form has not reduced itself to erotic semi-conscious plasma.

I think then how magic my sex is, and picture Mutant John in his hospital bed being revived, as if my orgasmic energy is drawing him back to Earth.

I think of Ronson in his trailer, no longer quite so lost. In his uneasy slumber, he senses what his happening a few miles away like a light igniting in the dark landscape. This explosion of erotic sorcery brings dazzling, inspiring brightness to his dreams, illuminating the pathways of his mind to reveal new ones...

I think of Dave and Adriana waking suddenly for no reason they can explain. Without any thought or preamble they join in the darkness and fuck like they did when they were first together. Their joint power and energy reignite like a new sun birthing from an old one, the night sky blazing with it.

I think of the police officer on his lonely beat along the darkened roads of Kent. He sees something strange on the horizon and knows, through some human alchemy, that it's me doing it. He knows too that it would not have happened without him, and he is worthy, and valued...

8. Sunrise

I wake up, with no idea where I am.

There's a doggy smell coming from somewhere, which turns out to be the massive Labrador. It lies beside me on the floor with an expression of patient wisdom on its lovely furry face. I look around.

Other than the dog, I am alone, with an uncovered feather duvet over me. I move, and my body aches in a way that suggests I have not moved for a long time. I must have simply lain in the same position I passed out in, however long ago...

Crisp winter morning light floods in through grimy windows. The fire is out, but residual warmth still emanates from it. My mouth is dry, and I then spot a pint of water beside me. Grunting as I move my stiff limbs, I reach for the water and drain it in one. The dog goes back to sleep, and I sit up.

Other than my bra, I am naked, but to my surprise I see my clothes on the arm of a nearby sofa. They have been carefully folded. Even my bag is there. I push the duvet aside and get to my feet, dizzy with the effects of last night. Half of my underneath aches, the other half is tender. I clench the tender part and gasp, although the discomfort is gratifying, as if I have been exercised, as I suppose I have been.

I need the loo, so I pick up my stuff and pad out of the living room.

There's a downstairs toilet off the ancient hallway, so I go in and use it, and then employ wipes to clean myself. There is probably a shower somewhere, but I can't be bothered trying to find it, and will have a bath when I get home. I get all last night's makeup off and make some effort with my armpits and the residual dirt stains on my front and legs, although much of that I've sweated off.

I get dressed, put more makeup on although not as much. My little black bob is less of a state than I expected. I give it a good brush until it swings glossily but with a little inevitable matting. Stowing my brush and other kit, I head into the kitchen.

There's a full cafetière, and I glug still-warm coffee straight from it. Turning to the table I see a note, written on a page torn from a pad with a faded picture of a flower at the top.

Kelly

I am at the other farm. Have to get up early in this game. Phoned hospital. Your friend is okay. They put a stent in and he is being kept in for a time. His bike is in the barn. Your car is in the yard.

Gordon

Next to it is another note, with a phone number and the words You are very gorgeous. Last night was amazing. The writing on that one is less fluid, as if he is not used to saying things like that, and had to work harder on his penmanship.

I smile, put the number into my phone, and walk out of the kitchen.

It's sunny out, but with a cheerfully ruthless chill in the air. My beautiful car is indeed in the yard. It is so good to see it, as if the vehicle is a loyal old friend. I get in, start it up, and accelerate out of the yard, along the access track and onto the road.

I ensure my phone records the location because I will definitely be back, and then I tap in my home postcode. I see that it's not that late -- only around 8.15am, so the day is not lost and I will get that presentation done after all.

I drive through the country until I hit the A21, then go south until I reach Tunbridge Wells. The roads are livening up, and it takes me another ten minutes to get home. When I pull into the drive, I notice a car I haven't seen before parked outside my house. Probably a guest of one of my neighbours. I'm too weary to worry about which one as I get out of the Triumph, grab my bag and slam the door. As I lock it, someone says, "Kelly?" and I turn.

The police officer from last night is getting out of the strange car. He is no longer is uniform, and must have finished his shift.

"Oh," I say. "Hello."

"Hello," he says.

We stare at each other for a while.

"I was just passing," he says.

"Were you?"

"Yes."

"How come?" I ask.

"I must have been drawn here," he says.

"Lights in the sky?" I ask, recalling my ecstatic sexual reverie of the night before.

He stares at me, and I realise he has very naughtily used the DVLC database to find out my address.

"Um... Yeah, sure," he says. "Actually, I couldn't stop thinking about you. About your offer."

Ah yes. Handcuffs in the back seat. I notice he does not have his handcuffs now. It's probably just as well. I frown.

"How long were you there for?"

"Oh, not long," he says, although I don't believe him.

I think about my tender underneath, the lure of a hot bath, and my presentation. And then I think, Fuck all that.

"Well," I say. "You'd better come in then."