Date: Wed, 5 Sep 2012 07:31:45 +0200
From: Amy Redek <adultreading@gmail.com>
Subject: The Cleaner. Part Four.

      This story is for persons of eighteen years or over.  All comments,
good or bad, are welcome and all will be answered.

Part Four.

   Her hangover was still lingering, but she knew how she could lose it at
Clive's house. His place was an oasis for her during the week. Small and
compact, but it boasted a superb little gymnasium. Weights, cycle machine,
running machine and a rower. There were also other implements of muscle
torture that were attached to the walls, but the icing on the cake was the
compact sauna. More than big enough for one, but just comfortable enough
for two.

   When Angela first went there and saw the house, she remarked on how she
liked to keep fit. The owner, Clive Adams said, she could use it after her
cleaning session provided that she didn't abuse the privilege and make sure
that it was left as she found it. She had told him that she would clean
everything up after her use, and in her own time.

   She had liked Clive right from the start, a down to earth man who
originally came from the East End of London. Made his way up and into the
stock market section of the city, and was now a trader on the London Metal
Exchange, and made a lot of money. The house, clothes and car proved that,
and he didn't look a day over twenty five.

   She let herself into the house and set herself a furious pace to clean
all the rooms so that she could have her session in the gym and sauna.

   When the housework was finished, she went down to the gym and kicked off
her trainers, dropped her shorts, and then peeled off her wet T shirt. She
wasn't wearing a bra and her breasts were glistening with sweat that she`d
already generated. She kept her panties on, as the seat on the cycle
machine was a bit on the rough side.

   She climbed onto the saddle and set the clock on the handlebars to zero
to begin her fifteen minute sprint. After only five of these minutes, the
sweat flow from her body had increased and was now flowing freely down
between her bouncing breasts. As the clock approached the last two minutes,
her head went down and she pedalled furiously till the timer went off, and
she slumped forward over the handlebars.

   Her breasts swung heavily as she gasped for breath, they heaved and
swung with every intake of oxygen that she took.  The pearls of sweat ran
down her breasts and dripped off each nipple. She used her wet shirt to
partially dry them before she went onto the next machine, which was for
rowing. It had taken her several sessions before she got the hang of
it. But now she could pull on the short oars like a veteran. As she heaved
back with every stroke, the muscles of her thighs quivered with the
strain. She often fantasised that the boat was larger, and that she had a
cox in the stern calling out the stroke. She wouldn't be wearing panties
then, so that every time she drew her knees up, he would be able to see all
that she had between her legs, then they would close again with a snap as
she pulled back on the oars. Then open again, her pussy winking at him
every time. She would also translate the cox into cock's, and envisaged a
machine with a built in phallus, that she could ride forward onto with
every stroke. These daydreams made her quite wet.

   Next was the running ramp. It was slightly angled so that it was a
gentle uphill run. Again, the timer was set for fifteen minutes, which
after the rowing, really made her legs and thighs ache and tremble. She was
glad of the side bars that she could hang onto as she finished the
session. She staggered off the ramp, quite wobbly and made her way to the
sauna.

   She peeled off her wet briefs, leaving them at the door and stepped into
the steaming room. She closed the door and after setting the thermostat,
stretched out on one of the benches. With a big sigh, she made herself
comfortable to let the steam work itself into her tired body. She rubbed
her hands down over her breasts, wiping the film of sweat off, down over
her stomach until her fingers were in her bush, and gently started to rub
her wet pussy. She drifted off to sleep playing with herself.

                                                         *

   It was about fifteen minutes later when the door opened, and Clive
walked in. He quietly closed the door and sat down on the opposite bench to
Angela, who hadn't stirred. He was only wearing a towel round his middle
and winced as he made himself comfortable and looked at Angela. He liked
what he saw. The long naked body stretched out, breasts gently moving with
her breathing and glistening with a fine sheen of perspiration that shone
in the dim light. Then her flat stomach that ended in the trim bush between
her thighs.

   His hand crept beneath his towel and started to massage his balls as he
gazed at her body. His penis rising to the thoughts that wove through his
mind. As his prick started to rise, he moved to ease the pressure of the
towel and gave out a small groan as he did so.

   That groan was enough to wake up Angela. Her eyes flew open, unfocused
for a moment. She turned her head and saw Clive sitting there on the
opposite bench. She gave a small scream and sat up quickly, grabbing a
towel and holding it across her breasts. She swung her legs round so that
she was then sitting up and pulled the towel down a little so that it was
partially draped over her sex.

   `You startled me. What time is it?' she asked.

   `About two o'clock,' he replied.

   `What are you doing home so early? And what do you mean by barging in
here?' she demanded.

   `Well, to answer the second part first. It's my house and sauna, and for
the first part, I hurt myself playing squash at lunch time and decided to
call it a day. I thought that a good session in the sauna would straighten
me out. Anyway, why are you still here? You're normally long gone at this
time. `She looked down at her feet.

   `I'm sorry I was rude, but you did startle me. I had to help out at
another job. That's why I'm running a bit later than usual. Also, I fell
asleep.'

   `I know. I watched you,' She blushed. She felt the blush, but didn't

know he couldn't see it, because her body already had a rosy glow to

it. `Sleeping,' he continued, `you looked so relaxed and comfortable that I
didn't want to disturb you.'

   They way he held his hands in his lap she guessed that he was hiding an
erection.

   `You said that you hurt yourself. What did you do?' she asked.

   `I played a terrific volley that I didn't think Stavros would be able to
return. But the bastard did. I tried to catch the return, and bending back
and twisting like this...aaargh.' His body spasmed, and he kept still for a
few moments till the sharp pain passed and he could slowly relax himself,
the flow of sweat increasing as he did so. He rubbed the sweat from his
forehead that was running into his eyes, making them sting and water.

   `Just like that,' he gasped, `Tommy Cooper, "juust like that".'

   `Ooh you poor thing,' said Angela, standing up and moving across to
him. The towel slipped revealing everything before she could grab it and
wrap it round her body, tucking the top edges down between her breasts. She
knelt before him and wiped the sweat from his forehead with her hand,
running it back over his hair.

   `Lay down on your stomach,' she said, `and I'll give you a massage.'

   She helped him get his legs onto the wide bench, and he rolled,
grunting, onto his stomach. She gently touched him in various places on his
back, asking where it hurt. When she had an idea of which muscles were
causing the discomfort, she started to press and move her hands across his
lower back.

   `We don't need any oils with the sweat your producing,' she remarked as
she pressed and moved her hands forward up his back at the same time. She
moved her knees forward and her knee held the towel to floor as she moved
and pulled it free from her body. She moved and tucked it back up around
her, but a few minutes later, it came loose again.

   `Damn towel keeps slipping,' she said as it came loose for the third
time. `Oh fuck it,' she said as she let the towel drop off completely,
`You've already seen me bollock naked, so what's the difference.' She
continued working on his back. Press and push. Press and push. Her hands
moving out from his spine as she pushed forwards.

   `This'll be better.' She climbed onto the bench and knelt astride his
body. This gave her better leverage to work on the pulled muscles. Clive
gave out a grunt as her full weight pressed down on his back. He could see
out of the corner of his eye, a flash of tit as she came forward. His
erection was painfully being squashed underneath him and he wiggled every
time the pressure eased, to try to get his cock into a less uncomfortable
position.

   `Stop wriggling,' she demanded, `you're making it very awkward for me!'

   `Not as awkward as it is for me,' he grunted. `You're squashing the
crown jewels and sceptre.'

   `Oh!' Angela said. `Sorry.' She leaned back onto her heels. `Roll over
onto your back and let me do your front.'

   He turned, not without some difficulty, his legs bumping up into her
naked crotch as he did so, and then settled back. His eyes taking in her
naked body poised above his own, just the small towel between his straining
cock and her wet pussy. He lay there looking into her eyes, and she stared
back at him.

                                                         *

   There was what is called a pregnant pause, though this was a pregnant
silence between them.

   With her hands resting on her thighs as she squatted above his hips, she
let her eyes wander down from his face to the towel that covered him. She
slowly put her hand down and slowly pulled the towel away from his hips and
let his cock stand free, quivering just above his stomach.

   She lightly ran her fingers along it, making it, and him, quiver. Then
she grasped it and held it upright and slowly pulled down on it, making the
skin move down his shaft and made the head bulge and throb.

   `Nothing wrong with this muscle,' she said in a low voice. Her tongue
peeked out from between teeth. She could feel a wetness that wasn't sweat
start to run down the inside of her thighs. She moved her hand up slowly,
pushing the loose flesh up to the head, and then pulling it down again.

   `I think that this muscle gets a lot of exercise.'

   `Not enough, lately,' Clive answered.

   `My hand is not big enough to do the job properly,' Angela said, moving
it up and down, `but I think I might have the answer to that.'

   She moved up onto her knees and slowly lowered herself till she could
rub her wetness against the head of his straining cock.

   `Don't tease,' he begged, `please.'

   With her hand holding his erection upright, she slowly inserted it into
herself, and sank down till she was resting on his thighs. With his prick
fully and deeply inside her, Clive groaned and closed his eyes.

   `Nirvana,' he whispered as she slowly moved her body up and down on his
pulsing cock. The wetness of her insides mingling with the sweat from both
bodies made it a smooth ride on his shaft. She used her vaginal muscles to
grip him as she moved on him. The tight pressure pulling his foreskin down
from the helmet, leaving the throbbing head exposed inside her to all the
nuances of her muscle play inside that silken sheath. He was gasping as he
watched her as she drew her hands up under, and over her full breasts as
she wiped the sweat up from her body.

   Her juices started to flow as she approached an orgasm, her body moved
faster up and down on him. His hips moving up to meet her as they rushed
and exploded in a mutual release. His sperm creaming out into her as he
arched his back. Her coming, a flood, out around his prick and dribbling
down and around his balls. With a strangled cry, she fell forward, her
breasts crushing against his chest as she buried her face into the side of
his neck. He held her tight as she lay on him, his hands running down her
back, making her quiver as he touched sensitive spots.

   After a few minutes, she roused herself. Sat up and slowly raised
herself up off of him, till with a small sucking noise, his still engorged
organ fell free and smacked wetly against his stomach.

   She quickly reversed her position and with her tits brushing his
stomach, lifted up his cock and took it into her mouth. She sucked on it,
taking it in as far as she could. Her spread thighs across his face, wetly
glistening, inviting him to probe if he wanted to. He raised his head and
gave her a large lick. Thus encouraged, she let her hips down to give him
easy access to the wet gaping hole. He licked and sucked the juices that
slowly oozed out of her, the salty taste of his own sperm mixing with the
sweetness of her.

   Angela, with her hands and mouth, soon brought him back to another
erection, and was again pumping sperm into her, this time swallowing it
instead of taking it in its proper receptacle. That was being seen to by
Clive as she had her second orgasm, her fluid running down his chin. He had
to push her bum up as she was threatening to suffocate him. Gasping for
breath, he cried out.

   `Enough Angela, enough.' She raised up her hips, but continued to suck
and lick him for a few more minutes before she released him and swung
herself off the bench and knelt down next to him.

   She rested her head against his side and his hand started to stroke her
hair. Her hand stroked his wilting penis and fondled his balls. They stayed
like this for some time, touching and stroking each other, until she gave
his cock a final squeeze.

   `I must be going. I've got to pick up my daughter.' She got up and her
tits brushed across his chest as she gave him a quick kiss on the lips. His
hand went to his chest to quell the static electricity that her tits had
sparked as he watched her lovely bum waltz out of the sauna.

   She went straight into the shower and turned on the cold tap making
goose bumps come out all over her body as she washed off the sweat from
both the sauna and the love making. She chose the roughest of towels to rub
herself down hard, making her skin glow red. She didn't bother with the
hair dryer, just ran the brush through her hair and got dressed.

                                                         *

   Even though she hurried, she was still a few minutes late collecting
Epsom from school. She wanted to get her home and fed, bathed and into bed
early, because she was going out that evening. She'd been invited to a hen
party of one of the girls from the agency. For once, she was glad Mike was
home early, and reasonably sober, must be football on the television, she
thought. She quickly threw things into a saucepan and cooked them the
fastest dinner they'd had for a long time. When the eating was done, she
piled the plates into the sink, telling Mike to wash them up later, after
he'd seen to Epsom's bath and put her to bed. Then into the bedroom she
went and stripped off her soiled clothes. She laid out on the bed, the
outfit she was going to wear for the party, scooped up the dirty clothes
and carried them into the bathroom and dumped them in the laundry
basket. She turned on the taps for the bath, and not waiting for it to
fill, got in and started to wash herself. She was half way through when
Mike walked in, a can of beer in his hand and sat down on the toilet
seat. Angela was soaping her breasts at that point.

   `Want me to do that for you,' he leered.

   `No,' she replied, vigorously rubbing the flannel under and between the
two mounds.

   `You're turning me on,' he said rubbing his crotch.

   `Well get turned off,' she answered, rinsing herself down.

   `Look,' he said, standing up and unzipping his fly and pulling out his
cock. `Ain't that something,' he boasted, waving it at her.

   `Yeh. It reminds me to get some chipolatas for tomorrow night's
dinner. Put it away and pass me the towel.' He took the towel off the rail
and hung it on his erection and stepped towards her.

   `How's that?'

   `A magnificent example of weight lifting,' she said, whipping the towel
off him and with a quick flip of it, caught him squarely on the head of his
jumping dick.

   `Owww, you bitch. That hurt,' he moaned, as he held it in his
hand. `That hurt,' he said again, `kiss it better Angel.'

   `Later, I'm running late as it is,' she said, pulling the plug from the
bath and wrapping the towel round her, stepped out onto the bath mat.

   `Later, later. That's all you ever say,' he complained.

   `Better late than never,' as she pushed past him to go to the bedroom.

   `Never is all I get. Not later.' He said, holding her.

   `Well, if you're awake when I come in, and not drunk, maybe then,' she
promised, giving him a quick kiss, leaving him alone in the bathroom.

                                                         *

   She met up with Marge, who was wearing the skimpiest of skirt's and a
halter that was not really stopping anything from being seen, and only just
barely holding in what she had.

   They went into the pub and joined June and April. They were twins whose
mother had a warped sense of humour seeing as their surname was Day. She
had hoped for another daughter, but had a son instead. Not much difference
really, because he turned out to be a homosexual and was known locally as
`May', though he had been christened as Paye.

   Paye also worked for the agency, though he mostly did the office
cleaning side of the business. Only when Philippa was really pushed, did he
help out doing house cleaning. He had a woman's touch when it came to
cleaning a house, also a woman's taste when it came to good clothes, as he
once related in a story to Angela.

   Paye had been doing a house in the city, a big town house in
Belgravia. It was a six hour, twice a week job. The couple who lived there
are quite well known, but he wouldn't say who they were or give out any
hint. Anyway, he'd been cleaning there for six months before he met the man
of the house, and this is what he related.

   The bedroom of the house was as sumptuous a room as he had ever seen. A
huge seven foot bed dominated the lavish, over decorated room. Wall to wall
built in cupboards, all mirrored. The contents were a transvestite's dream;
a whole range of gowns, dresses, chiffons and the like.

   Well he lost himself in this wonderland and would spend over an hour,
twice a week, trying on the dresses posing and strutting in front of the
mirrors. Even putting on the underwear and making himself up before the
gorgeous dressing table, and then dressing up in the dress or gown to fit
his make believe occasion.

   It was on one such day, made up and dressed to kill vamping before the
mirrors when the husband entered the bedroom.

   `What do we have here?' was the sarcastic comment as he shut the door
behind him. `I didn't think you were home dear. It is you dear, isn't it?
It's your dress. Your wig and your make up, so it must be you.'

   `Please sir. I...I...can explain,' Paye stammered.

   `Explain?' he asked in the same tone, moving closer the Paye, making him
step back a pace. `What is there to explain. I see my wife in front of
me. It looks like my wife and I think it is my wife, and I think I would
now want to fuck my wife.'

   `Please...please...I...I...' Paye stuttered, wringing his hands in front
of him.

   `Yes, you do please. Come here!' he demanded, pointing authoritatively
to a spot on the floor in front of him, `Now!' he shouted.

   Paye trembled as he moved and stood where directed.

   `On your knees,' the man demanded, his finger again pointing down. Paye
sank to his knees in front of the man, head back looking up at him.

   `Dressed up as my wife means you can also act as my wife. Open up those
painted lips,' he said as he unzipped himself and pulled out his cock, `and
suck on this.' He held it out in front of Paye and pushed it between his
rouged lips and into his mouth.

   `Now suck on it, you bitch!' He held Paye's wigged head as he roughly
worked his cock in and out of his mouth.

   Paye knew how to give head, so he worked on the engorged cock in his
mouth. Rough as the husband was trying to be, Paye used the skills he had
learned. I bet I'm giving better head than your own wife, he thought. He
brought the man to the brink and then quickly released him and leaned back,
letting the inflamed cock bounce and throb in the air.

   Paye wasn't expecting, nor did he see, the fist that knocked him flat on
his back, legs going high, skirt thrown up over his thighs. He felt the
man's hands tear the panties off of him, and his legs were hoisted up and
over the man's shoulders. His weight bore down between his open thighs, but
was too dazed to resist. He felt the head of the man's cock, that he had
made wet with his saliva, push at the entrance to his arse and there was
nothing he could do about it.

   He felt the pain as the cock reamed up into him and it felt enormous as
it was pushed in. Every inch of it was shoved in as the man's heavy weight
now bore down on him until he was fully inside. Then the man started
pumping, his hands holding Paye down as he fucked him. It wasn't the first
fucking that Paye had received, but it was the first time he had been
raped, making that much harder to bear. But when the initial shock had worn
off, and with that hard cock inside of him, he decided to make the best of
a bad job. Though he hated the bastard on three counts; first for hitting
him, second for squashing him, and third for raping him, he would give him
the fuck of his life.

   With anal muscles being stronger than those of a vagina, he gripped that
throbbing cock hard. Lying on his back with his legs high and wide and the
weight of the man pressing down on him, he still gave back a thrust for a
thrust. Pushing up with his hips to meet the downward press. He could feel
the cock pulsing inside of him, feeling it touch high, rigid and the
sensation was causing his own cock to rise.

   The man on top started to breathe heavily as he strained to his limit
and started to come inside Paye, who felt his coming as it heated his
insides. Paye's own cock reacted, and shot his sperm out onto his stomach.

   Paye held the cock fast inside of him, squeezing the last drops, holding
him tight inside with his muscles, making it a fuck of a lifetime for the
rapist. He held it as long as he could till it deflated and he then
whispered into the man's ear.

   `You won't find the wife the same now, or better than this for a fuck!'

   He pushed the man so that he rolled off onto his back, breathing
heavily. Paye got up and quickly took off the woman's clothes, throwing
them onto the floor, and got dressed into his own clothes. As he was
leaving the room, he looked at the man still lying on the floor with his
limp penis still hanging out from the front of his trousers, `You'll have a
different cleaner next week,' he said as he left.

                                                         *

   He wouldn't tell Philippa why he refused to go back to that
house. Angela was the only one he had revealed it to when he was rather
drunk at a party one night. The next morning, with a massive hangover, he
begged Angela not to tell anyone of what he had told her. As she dithered,
keeping him on tenterhooks, he promised to give her the muff dive of her
life if she would keep his rape a secret.

   She took a rain check on this at the time, but was calling it in
tonight. Not just the promise of the muff dive, but that he was to attend
that night's hen party dressed in drag, and fulfil his promise later in the
evening. He had agreed without reluctance and promised to meet them there.

   So after one quick drink, Angela, Marge, June and April, left the pub to
make their way to the Ex Serviceman's club, where the function room had
been set aside for the women's only party.

   There was much cheek kissing and hugs for all the girls when they
arrived, such was their popularity among their friends. There were at least
fifty girls in the room when they arrived, and the drinks were being served
and consumed at a very fast rate. The noise level also was quite high. This
rose higher when the hen mother announced that the show was about to start
with the latest hot shot male stripper who was about to reveal all.

   Dressed in black leathers, Clapham's own answer to the `Chippendales',
Dennis `Donkey' Tyler, known as D.D.T. to his friends, pranced out onto the
stage and went into his hip thrusting routine. With the constant cry of
`Get `em orf' from the girls, until he obliged, and showed them why his
middle name was `donkey'. After slipping off his G string, he waved his
limpid fourteen inches in a circular motion to the howling delight of the
crowd.

   He was cheered off the stage, and his place was taken by `Ding Dong
Bell'. When he revealed his tool, it was met with jeers. Thicker than the
'Donkey's', it wasn't as long, and didn't swing properly. Angela screamed
with delight, with many others, as a well aimed strawberry mousse caught
him squarely in the crotch. He retreated from the stage amid a barrage of
food missiles. If there was a third performer, he didn't show, and the
girls then carried on their drinking and telling of dirty jokes.

   Paye had joined them, and he was dressed to kill. His outfit was
stunning, and only a few knew who he was, but didn't blow the whistle that
there was a man amongst them.

                                                         *

   But one young man did inadvertently, and most unfortunately wander into
the party. It was too late when he realised where he was and what he had
walked into. He was quickly seized and dragged into the centre of the room,
stripped of his clothes, and spread eagled on the floor.

   Four women held his legs and two on each of his arms. He lay there
unable to move as beer, wine, and fruit juices spattered those holding him
as these drinks were poured over his naked body. Marge pushed her way
through the crowd and stood at his head looking down at him.

   `Ladies only tonight ducky, or is it dicky. Yes!' she shouted out to the
others, `it's dicky we have here amongst us.'

   The crowd of girls surrounding them laughed and hooted, and shouted out
various suggestions as to what to do with him. Marge knelt down and pulled
off her halter top, her large breasts swinging free from the restraint. She
leaned over him, her large tits swaying just above his face.

   `Is this what you came in for boy? To get a peek and a thrill. Well look
good and hard boy. I bet you haven't seen tits like this before in the
flesh, have you boy?' She lifted her head and looked down at his body, to
see that his prick appeared to have half risen up. `No you haven't. I can
see that it's turning you on. Your cock is telling me that.' She leaned
over him so that her tits swung against his face. `Suck, baby, suck on
them. You suck me, an' I'll suck you!'

   The bewildered and somewhat terrified man, opened his mouth and took a
hard nipple in and sucked on it. Marge let him suck for a few moments
before she pulled it free. She moved across his body and sucked on his semi
erect cock for a moment before raising her head and crying out to the
circle of girls.

   `Who wasted Bacardi and coke on this prick. I don't like Bacardi!'

   The circle of girls laughed at this. Marge then stood up and turned
round and stood astride of the poor naked prostrate man.

   `Well I've sucked you,' she said to him, now it's your turn to suck
me. Tits don't count. They were a bonus.' She quickly put her hands up her
short skirt and pulled down her small panties. These she threw into the
crowd as she down again over his body, and shuffled on her knees to
position herself above his face.

   `Do you see it? Can you smell it? It's all wet an' ready for your tongue
boy.' She lowered herself down onto his face. His head thrashed from side
to side as her muff ground into his face. She could feel his mouth getting
wet from her juices, but he wouldn't open it. She rose back up onto her
knees. `What's the matter, boy? Don't you like dark meat? How about some
wine then?' She gestured to one of the girls by his head. `Hold his nose,'
Marge instructed her, which was done, making the man open his mouth to
breathe.

   `Now for the wine,' Marge said as she started to urinate into his open
mouth. He choked and spluttered as his mouth filled with her urine, being
forced to swallow as his head was held tight while his nose was pinched
tight.

   The crowd howled its delight at this display and at the man's
discomfort. Marge rose up and continued to pee all down the length of his
body, letting the stream splash his chest and stomach till the last drops
were directed over his shrivelled penis. The girl holding his nose had to
let go to wipe her arms of the splattered piss on his torn shirt. The man
convulsed and spluttered as he coughed up her piss and tried to regain his
breath.

   `While using him as a toilet, anybody here feel like taking a crap?'

   `Nooooo,' he screamed, fighting the hands holding him, but not getting
free.

   `Anybody?' Marge asked again.

   `Noooo. Please. Noooo,' the man begged. Marge stepped from his
body. `Throw the bastard out the door, and his clothes from the window.'

   Yeah,' came the cheer from the girls as they plucked him from the floor,
and bodily carried aloft and rushed him to the door, which was being held
open, and he was thrown out into the crowded bar. His clothes, what was
left of them, shredded and dirtied, were tossed out of a window into the
street.

   Marge stood in the middle of the floor, her magnificent black breasts
heaving, as the girls crowded round her, congratulating her on her
performance. She was handed her top which she slipped over her head, a
drink was pressed into her hand.

   `I hope it's not Bacardi? I've got a nasty taste in my mouth,' she said
to laughter as she drank her drink. She grabbed a fresh one and headed back
to the table to join the others. Pats on the back from many girls as she
made her way through.

   April said, as Marge sat down, `What a...'

   `Performance!' June finished the sentence. They had that habit between
them that was most disconcerting to people who didn't know them. One would
start a sentence, and being so finely tuned in their minds, the other would
finish it. June carried on,

   `I wish that I had...' `the nerve to be able to do that.' April
finished. Paye, who was sitting next to Angela, grabbed her arm and
whispered, `I wish I had a pair of tits like that instead of the falsies
that I'm wearing now.' Angela laughed.

   `The colour wouldn't suit the rest of your body. Just be grateful that
we know you, and that you are dressed like one of us, or that could have
been you down there.'

   Paye looked coyly at Angela from under the long delightful eye lashes,
`What makes you think I might not have enjoyed it? No, no. I'm only
joking,' he quickly said, seeing the alarmed look on her face, `There's
only one woman's pair of legs I would put my face between,' he squeezed her
arm, `and they are yours.'

   Angela felt herself getting wet between her thighs as this gorgeous
looking woman/man looked at her with those beautiful eyes.

   `I wish I had eyes like yours,' she said wistfully, `but it's the tongue
you've got that I want at this moment. Let's get out of here. I'm soaking
wet already just thinking about it.'

                                                         *

   They said goodnight to the others and also to the hen and hen mother,
and made their way out into the fresh air.

   `Phew,' said Paye, `you don't realise how stuffy and smoky the place is
until you're outside. Well,' linking his arm through hers, `as they say in
the movies, your place or mine, baby?'

   `It'll have to be yours,' she said. `Mike's at home, baby sitting.'

   `Mine it is then,' he said.

   So arm in arm, they set off for his flat, which was in a tower block not
far along the road. As usual, one of the lifts was out of order, and the
other one that they travelled up in, stank like a urinal. The walls covered
in graffiti and lewd comments about some occupants of the block, also
suggestions from various boys of which girls would suck their cocks etc.

   Angela noticed that Paye's name was on the wall, and that the comment
there was true, but she refrained from mentioning it. The lift wheezed to
its halt at his floor, and they were glad to get out. He fumbled in his
handbag for his keys and opened the door to his flat and ushered her
inside. The door opened directly into the living room and she stood for a
moment in the dark till he had shut the door and turned on the lights.

   She was amazed at how compact and tastefully that the place was
decorated. Spotless too, she noticed.

   `Why, it's wonderful,' she exclaimed. The room was lit by a low wattage
standard lamp in one corner and a small table lamp on a small side table by
the hi-fi system, throwing out a soft light.

   `Set yourself down. Would you like a drink?' Paye asked, going to a
cabinet next to the hi-fi.

   `Yes please. A gin and tonic if you've got it.' Angela answered, sitting
herself down on the sofa. Paye mixed two drinks and then sat down next to
her, handing her one of the glasses.

   `This is a lovely room,' Angela said, sipping her drink. `Did you do it
yourself?'Paye crossed one silk clad leg over the other and sipped his
drink.

   `Yes. With the help of a couple of past lovers.' He put his drink down
on the side and said, `I'll go and get changed,' getting up from the sofa.

   `No!' cried Angela, `well, yes to the dress, but keep the underwear
on. You are wearing underwear, aren't you?'

   `Yes' said Paye with a shy smile, lifting up the hem of the dress to
show a white thigh and a glimpse of panty above the stocking top. He then
lifted the dress right up and over his head, being careful not to dislodge
his wig. The dress was thrown over the back of the sofa, and standing on
the thick rug, he struck a pose.

   `What do you think?'

   Angela's eyes travelled up the shapely silk clad legs, taking in the
alabaster thighs between the stocking tops and garter belt. The thin
gossamer panties with an erect penis straining the fabric and the flat
stomach below the start of the rib cage. The wisp of silk bra that held
life like breasts that seemed natural the way they moulded to his upper
chest. Then to his smiling face, delicately made up. The cheeks gently
powdered, the eyes lightly shadowed and the wonderful curling eye lashes,
all beautifully framed by the blond wig.

   `It looks so perfect,' said Angela, `except for that,' pointing to his
full panty crotch.

   `It gets like that when somebody is watching me looking at me as you are
now,' he said smiling, as his hand rubbed his cock through the thin
silk. `But I'm here for you tonight.' He licked his lips with a very pink
tongue. He held out his hand and helped her up to stand in front of
him. She let him undo the clips of her skirt so that it fell to the floor,
he knelt and pulled down her panties so that she could step out of them,
and stood with her legs astride in front of him. Her breasts started
heaving as he buried his face into her soft mound of hair and she could
feel his hot breath curling between her thighs. It made her legs tremble,
and she stepped back and collided with the edge of the sofa and fell. She
sprawled back with her legs wide open, her sex gaping and wet. Paye moved
forward and with his tongue fully extended, dived straight in. It was like
a small live eel that gave her electric shocks as it curled round her bud,
licking and teasing.

   She writhed as he pushed it into her vagina, wiggling it around, his
mouth sucking her juices at the same time. Her hands held his head as she
orgasmed, flooding his mouth, her hips pushing up and forward as he sucked
and probed as she surged. She felt another orgasm coming, and gave herself
up to the ecstasy of her flowing juices.

   She then felt one of his hands leave her thigh, and through his body
movements, knew that he had started to wank himself.

   `No,' she cried, `no!' Pushing his head out from between her
legs. Caught by surprise at the push, he fell backwards onto the rug, his
erect cock, outside of the panties, held firmly in his hand, his lipstick
smeared face showing surprise.

   `There's two of us here. Let me do it.' She pulled his hand off his
erection and took over the action of masturbating him. As she went to lower
her head onto him, he stopped her.

   `No. I like to see it shoot out.'

   Angela stopped for a moment, thinking, then letting go of his prick, she
pulled her shirt off over her head. Her full breasts swinging free as she
did so. She then sat facing him, pulling his legs up over her thighs, so
that they sat facing each other. Her bush almost touching his balls. She
then grasped him again and started to wank him. Her breasts swinging as she
pumped her hand up and down on his shaft.

   `I'm coming,' he groaned as he leaned back, his arms rigid behind
him. His breath coming faster as he built up steam. Angela leaned forward
as he gasped, and the jets of sperm shot out and hit her tits. The erratic
movements of her hand made the spurts cover her breasts, which slowly
started to dribble down as the spray lessened. She wiped the last drops off
onto her stomach. He licked his lips.

   `That was lovely,' he said as he straightened himself up and pushed her
shoulders back onto the rug. He then disentangled his legs from hers and
leaned over her and started to lick his own sperm off of her body. Taking
his time as he licked around and over her breasts.

   `What wouldn't I give to have a pair like these,' he breathed between
licking and nibbling her nipples. `It would drive the boys wild.'

   She felt slightly disgusted with him licking his own sperm off of her
body, but admitted to herself that she did like her own taste when she
sucked off somebody who had only just fucked her, their juice mingling with
hers.

   When he'd finished cleaning off her chest, they lay together on the rug
in front of the fire that he'd turned on. They lay, touching each other,
drinking and reminiscing over past loves. Angela glanced across at the
ornate clock on the side.

   `Shit!' she exclaimed, getting up from the floor. `Sorry Paye, but I
gotta get going.' She gathered up her clothes and hurriedly dressed while
Paye languidly watched her.

   `Give my love to Mike,' he called as she blew him a kiss before letting
herself out of the flat.

   There was no talking to Mike when she got home. She let herself in and
the place was in darkness except for the T.V. illuminating Mike sprawled
out on the couch, beer can in his hand, eyes closed and gently snoring. She
took the can from his hand and put it on the coffee table, turned off the
telly, and went to bed.

   He was still there when she got up next morning. Leaving him alone, she
made breakfast for herself and Epsom. Before taking her to school, Angela
left a note for Mike to pick her up at the usual time. So with Epsom in
tow, she left home to drop her off at school and for her to go off to her
Friday job.

                                                         *