byNakod Apa©

'Yes. And one day soon I'm going to shave you.'

She looked up, accepting my right to take charge of her. 'Are you?'

'Yes. Now I think you should get some rest.' I lifted her legs, eased out the blankets and covered her. 'We're going to get hungry soon, and you're going to need something to wear. So I'll go and see if I can find any shops open.'

'Don't be long . . . Oh!'


'I've just realised I don't even know your name. You told me in the office, but I've forgotten.'

'You're right. We never were formally introduced.'

I stood to attention and bowed 'Miss Frobisher, I'm honoured to present Richard Hope.'

Then I leant forward, took her hand and brushed my lips across its back.

A small, brave smile flitted across her mouth. 'Pleased, extremely pleased, to meet you Richard. I'm Sara. Without the H.'

I was reluctant to leave Sara without the H. Not because I felt she was in any immediate danger, and not having any clothes she was unlikely to disappear, but mainly because I sensed she craved comfort and support. But needs must.

Walking toward my car I reviewed the situation. Logic said that the goons would not attempt to find us tonight, but would wait until Sara, and they would presume yours truly, returned to her caravan. But were they rational types - or even that patient? I rather doubted it and must assume that they were even now scouring the town trying to locate us. That meant a low profile was called for.

I could, of course, just whisk Sara away to distant parts. If I took her to my home they'd certainly be unable to find us. I immediately dismissed that option. She wouldn't agree if it meant abandoning her sister. And forcing her would be a bad way to start what I intended would be a lifetime's relationship.

I'd stumbled into a small war. Right now it was only me against five, however I had a long term advantage over the enemy - the training of a conscientious government, and a number of friends I'd made during my time with the special forces. I had no doubts as to my ultimate victory. However the immediate strategy must be to withdraw - to hide - until I could recruit my former comrades in arms.

Firstly I put the top up on the car. This would help to change it's outline. Then I went looking for a supermarket with a large car park. Two birds with a single stone; for there I would temporarily abandon the one thing they could use to find us, and at the same time stock up with the supplies we needed.

I found what I was looking for a couple of miles up the road. After parking in a far corner, away from the lights, I wheeled a trolley up and down the aisles.

I was spoilt with choice for food and drink, however their range of women's clothes was somewhat limited. Eventually I settled for a wrap-round skirt and a floppy sweater. Even if my guess at sizes was a bit off, she should be able manage with the aid of the safety pins I added to my hoard. Then I contemplated the underclothes - not that they were essential, but she would probably feel more comfortable.

My guess was that she was a good C cup but whether that went with twenty eight, thirty or even thirty-four I had no real idea. I could have taken a range of sizes, but that would have been a waste when she didn't really need a bra. Who was I kidding? I just wanted to be able to watch those unfettered puppies gamboling.

However I did check out the panties and this time felt that I could make a good estimate of the correct size. Then I noticed a rack of cheap thongs. Just the thing. I bought half a dozen in each of two sizes. That should keep her content.

With my purchases filling three carrier bags I looked to get back to my, hopefully sleeping, princess. A card pinned over the public telephone at the entrance gave the local taxi number so - abandoning my car as a possible diversion - I summoned one.

Back at the motel I decided that, though we should reclaim Sara's possessions before looking for a method to permanently deal with Bolger and his mates, there was little to be done until morning. Overnight we could relax. And since my need for a campaign to claim Sara for my own had been so serendipitously solved I could fill the time by properly courting her.

The woman of my dreams expressed herself, if not pleased, at least content with my choice of skirt and top. Though she blushed rather becomingly as she inspected the thongs. Since she made no move to try them on, some imp tempted me to pick out a neat red one and suggested she model it for me.

She froze for a moment then smiled shyly and said, 'I suppose you've earned the right. And you won't see anything you haven't already seen.'

Turning her back she slipped it on under the skirt. Pirouetting again to face me, with a doubtful grin she asked, 'How's that?'


'You just want to see my boobs and pussy.'

'Who wouldn't? As I recall they were particularly attractive.'

'Ask nicely.'

'Please, dearest Sara without an H, may this poor specimen be allowed to gaze upon the wondrous beauty of your maidenly assets.'

With a brittle laugh, she whipped the top off, let the skirt drop, and struck a pose.

'Thus milord. And doth thou behold anything to suit thy desires.'

There was a touch of hysteria in her fun making. As if she were attempting to hide her continuing apprehension and a dread of the morrow.

I smiled reassuringly and kept my voice low. 'But how could you doubt it. Look what you have done to my needy staff.' Leaning back and spreading my legs I displayed the bulge in my trousers.

She knelt before me as I sat on the edge of a bed, her hand cupping my straining mound. 'Treatment urgently required,' she diagnosed.

'Are you qualified?' I asked.

She scoffed brightly, 'I thought I had already demonstrated my proficiency.'

I hooked my fingers under the sides of her thong. 'Up you come. There is no need to supplicate yourself to me.'

Lifting her with my hands on her hips I guided her to sit beside me.

'Much as I want you, darling Sara without an H, I think we would be better proceeding slowly. Have some refreshment first. Otherwise we could find ourselves running out of energy halfway through the main event.'

Thoughtfully she looked at me. I could almost see her realising that somehow, without any intention or consultation, she had once more agreed to give herself to a man she barely knew. The fact that, in her distress, she had already let me take her once, was irrelevant.

We ate, sitting beside each other on the bed with my holdall. As a meal it was nothing spectacular. Crusty rolls, a selection of cheeses, fruit to follow and, most important, a bottle of wine to share from the tooth mugs the motel provided. I carefully ensured that she had more than her share of the alcohol. Not with any intention of reducing her will to resist my lusts - for it was clear she had no intention of denying me the pleasures of her fair body - but to warm her, soothe her nerves and help her relax. Any intoxication around was me with her.

We talked and talked, discovering each other. I told her of my time in the Navy and my transfer to the special forces. Incidentally making it clear that I was several years older than she imagined. Not, perhaps, quite enough to be a father figure, but enough for a permanent relationship to require a lot of thought, for though I had every intention of taking her as my woman I did not want her to be under any illusions as to what she was agreeing to.

In return she repeated, in much bitter and painful detail, the story of the death of her parents and the abuse and addiction of her twin. It became clear that our first objective must be to find her sister. She would not be the happy companion I wanted until Emma was cured.

I had taken a last sip of my wine when we stopped talking. In the quiet I reached for her hand. As we touched I felt a surge of electricity. It was time to explore her fully. A time to forego lust in favour of love. Having quickly cleared away the detritus of our meal I took her.

A slow, gentle caress of her cheek and she leans toward me as my lips seek hers . She kisses me as fervently as I kiss her. Our tongues intertwine and dance with each other. Oh, the taste of her. Spontaneously clothes disappear and she is once more open to my fond gaze. It is sacrilege to hide such perfection.

With caressing hands I acquaint myself with her warm and sensual flesh, her soft inner thighs, slim waist, flaring hips, and firm, ivory breasts. Oh, the scent of her. She is what I have dreamt of all my life.

She gives a low moan and her cunni muscles clench my searching finger as my eyes imprint her full lips, high cheekbones, soft jaw and demure smile on my memory. She is special, unique. She has captured my heart, and I am overcome with joy.

She moans with delight as, hands on her hips, I position myself to enter her and impatiently she thrusts up. Slowly, teasingly I slip into her. She locks her ankles behind my back to stop me withdrawing.

Moving only my head I taste her tits, sucking and nibbling on each point in turn.

She moans, 'Please, get on with it. Take me.'

'Why hurry, we've got all night.'

'Stop teasing you bastard. Fuck me. Now!'

I stay quite still, my tongue playing with a nipple.

With a surprising show of strength she heaves me over and is suddenly on top. Impaling herself on me she starts to rapidly lift up and drop down, using me to find her release. Her effort is brief. With a small cry she comes and falls forward onto my chest.

Now I roll her back again, lift her calves over my shoulders. 'That's what comes of rushing things,' I say, sliding my still iron-hard cock deep into her wet tunnel.

By the time I'm ready to come her cunni is quivering, the pulse in her throat fluttering and she has her nails dug into my shoulders. One final deep, hard thrust and she is over the edge, her joyous shout muffled by my lips. I erupt deep inside her velvet glove.

As I come down to earth it occurs to me to hope she is on the pill or a few thugs might not be all of her problems. I dismiss the query - even if I have fertilised her I will stand by her and willingly accept my responsibilities.

After that exhaustion claimed us and we never did get round to using both beds.


We woke stiff, both from our exertions and the cramped positions in which we had slept. Lying on my back, her head on my chest and a leg flung over me I decided that next time - and I knew there would be many next times - I would arrange for a double bed.

I stroked her hair as I pondered our plans for the day.

'Good morning,' she said smiling up at me. 'Don't stop.'

'I wasn't going to.' I gently caressed her soft cheek. 'The last time I felt as happy waking up was as a child on Christmas morning. I could get to make a habit of this. Yes, having you is definitely going to become a habit.'

A glance at my watch showed that we had slept somewhat later than I had intended. Time to get some action. Reluctantly freeing her from my arms I headed for the bathroom.

We showered together and it took a great deal of self discipline, at least on my part, not to enjoy each other. I made a note that as soon as possible I would have to arrange a session that explored the possibilities of putting together two bodies, water, soap and lust.

Leaving Sara to gather our bits and pieces I went to the office and checked out. While there I rang the company and told my secretary I wouldn't be in for a day or two; any appointments would need to be rearranged. She wasn't happy when I refused to explain, or to forecast when I would return. Just as well I was a part owner and not an employee.

When I had finished with her I had myself transferred to our finance director and asked him examine the possibility of having a member of staff funded for drug rehabilitation. He seemed to think it might be possible to pass it through the accounts (i.e. fiddle the books) in such a way that the auditors, not to mention the tax man, wouldn't notice.

Carrying our things in a bag each we strolled toward to where I'd left the car the night before. On the way we passed a number of shops selling women's clothes and I suggested she might want to buy something a little different to my efforts of the previous evening.

'If you won't be hurt?' She said.

'Why should I? My wallet can take the odd hit and last evening was a very limited choice. I wasn't too happy myself. It was just the best I could do at the time.'

'Well, in that case. . .'

She decide her immediate need was for a pair of narrow jeans and a bra.

I tried to dissuade her from the latter but she said that although she understood my preference for a lively rack she was going to insist on wearing one - at least when she was out and about - and that in the long run I would appreciate it, for gravity all too soon has its way with a woman's tits. And did I really want her to diminish her tasty treasures earlier than necessary. With that she looked over the stock until she found a compromise in the form of a skimpy, push-up type that helped her premier assets stand high and proud.

I had to give her best and I wasn't too disappointed since - hooray, hooray, oh frabjous day - her remarks suggested she accepted our relationship as being long term.

That left two items for immediate attention; find her sister and collect her belongings from the caravan - there being no way I was going to let Emma remain in the locality, not with Bolger and his minions free to target the girls. As it happened we were able to deal with both together.

But first I realised there was a slight logistical problem. My vintage car being a two-seater, it had what amounted to a boot in which one can store a couple of suitcases or some shopping, but no way could it take a third passenger - or the worldly goods of two young ladies.

Back to the telephone in the store and a hunt for the local car hirer. It seemed at first that we would be unable to find just what I wanted until a passing store detective, seeing me tearing my hair out, suggested a garage on the outskirts of the town. They proved most obliging, not only supplying a ubiquitous white van - which would certainly provide a measure of disguise from Bolger and his minions - but also undertaking to store my vehicle until I could return for it.

The new wheels proved a pain to drive after my MG, as well as being decidedly lumbering - there was no way we would be able to outrun a motorcycle in it. Still, with luck we would be able to avoid Bolger and friends until I could remove Sara - and sister - from the front line and marshal my forces.

Arriving at the caravan we found a scene of mindless vandalism. In their impotent fury the gang had vented their anger on the twins' home. If it had been decrepit before, it was a disaster area now. They had tipped it on its side, smashing all the windows and attempted to set fire to it. Fortunately they must have moved on before the flames really took hold for there was only a little scorching and smoke damage at one end.

We stood staring aghast at the damage. Then I noticed a movement in the shadow of the trees to the right. A nearly naked figure stumbled toward us on cheap flip-flops. A badly torn blouse exposed her right breast and nipple, showing she had lost her bra somewhere - presuming, that is, she had been permitted to wear one - and her skirt or jeans had vanished from her white thighs, leaving a dark bush visible through thin panties.

I stood stunned, thinking - I don't know what I was thinking - then realised that this despairing woman was the sister - Emma. Flinging herself into Sara's arms she raised a bruised and tear stained face. 'I thought they'd hurt you. Even killed you,' she sobbed.

'No, I'm fine, Em. Thanks mainly to Richard here. But what happened to you?'

Emma turned toward me and I could see what Sara had meant; that strained and harassed face could have easily been that of her mother.

'Where have you been? They wanted to know who he is and where you could be found. They hurt me. Then they brought me back to...this.' Emma flung an arm toward the devastation.

'That doesn't matter. You're safe with us now.' Sara was calm and collected. Almost the child comforting the adult. 'We have to see what we can rescue and then decide where we are going to live.'

'The last is already settled,' I interposed. 'You're coming to my place. At least for a while.'

'Where's that?' Emma asked.

'Rillington - only a couple of hour's drive.'

'We can't! We've got to stay here!'

'Now, now, Em. There's nothing to stay here for.' Sara kept trying to placate her twin. Then realisation hit and she turned toward me. 'It's the drugs. If we come with you, how is she going to get her next fix.'

'Must she have one?'

'Yes, she's too far gone to go cold turkey. She tried that some time back and it was just too horrible.'

'I'll see what I can do about it. Though it'll have to be later since we better not hang around here too long in case they return. Why don't you see if it's possible to recover anything from that mess. And also find something for Emma to wear.'

Pulling out my mobile 'phone I dialed our company doctor. As I did so I watched Sara settle Emma on a dry patch of turf by the entrance to the field. She then went back to the caravan and carefully removed the glass shards from the end window and wriggled inside.

After the usual delay I finally got to talk to our medical sage and explained the situation. He talked round the subject, tried to impress me with how difficult it all was, but when he was assured that somehow the money would be found, agreed that it was possible. If I drove Emma directly to his surgery he would be able to prescribe enough replacement drugs to hold her until the local centre could start her treatment.

Assuring him that we would be arriving early that afternoon I rang off and turned to see Sara, hair in disarray and covered in dust, clamber out of the caravan pulling a large suitcase after her.

'Luckily we kept most of the important papers in a folder under the front seating,' she said. 'All I'm missing is the stuff in my handbag which got left in the Tourist Information Centre when Bolger's minions grabbed me.'

'Right. We'll collect that on our way. Anything else in the bag?'

'A couple of photo albums with pictures of our parents and a few clothes. The rest can be left.'

'Good. I'll sling that in the back of the van if you can organise Emma. She's not to worry. I've arranged for the company doctor to be waiting for us when we arrive, and he's organising a place in a specialist treatment centre. All she has to do is agree to be treated.'

'She'll do that all right, or I'll bash her head in.'

'That's not very sisterly.'

'When she couldn't help herself I stood by her. Now it's her turn to do what's right.'

'Okay. I'll leave her to you. If you can, put some clothes on her and climb aboard the exodus express.'

Emma settled in the back we drove down the road toward the town. As we went I asked Sara, 'Is it just your handbag we need to collect? How did you normally travel into town?'

'We had a couple of old push-bikes. Goodness knows where Emma's is and mine's at the Information Centre - or was when last seen.'

'Want to take them with us?'

'Not much point. They're about ready for the scrap heap. What I'd like to do with mine is wrap it round that manager's neck as I tell him where to put his job.'

'I thought you worked for the Council?'

'Yes, but I was still on probation and whether I was retained depended on the manager's assessment.'

'It doesn't sound as if you expected it to be found suitable.'

'Oh, he made it clear I would be satisfactory, that is as long as I continued to put out for him. Otherwise. . .'

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byNakod Apa© 2 comments/ 14597 views/ 5 favorites

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