Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
I’ve wanted to write an occasional series of short stories for a while now. The premise being to write about the adventures of a group of friends living in present day London. There is no single protagonist. There are in fact four, with perspectives alternating between the different characters. That’s the idea anyway.
The stories are mainly for my own benefit, to test my creative/erotic writing skills, but if anyone else finds them fun then it’s a bonus. The first couple of chapters will be spent introducing the main characters and so there isn’t much plot to begin with. Hopefully this will come as the story develops.
Constructive criticism is always welcome and if you enjoyed a story then please let me know what you enjoyed about it, so that I can improve my writing.
Elise Curtis sat in the First-Class section of the Airbus 380 as it made its way from Los Angeles to London. Even though the partition to what the airline called her ‘suite’ was closed she could still hear raised voices coming from the lounge bar. A group of minor reality show celebs were getting drunk on Champagne at their production company’s expense. It was probably more refined in Cattle-Class, Elise thought to herself.
She looked through the extensive list of films and TV programmes on the plane’s entertainment system and eventually found the one she was looking for. ‘Night Watch’ was in its third series now. A gritty, no punches pulled, prime time drama about a specialist police unit brought in to track down serial killers. It was up for several BAFTAs this year and Elise thought that she should at least try to watch it, especially as Caitlin Parsons, the woman she called mother or more precisely ‘mummy”, was in the starring role.
Caitlin Parsons (her maiden name) was a national treasure, a star of the British stage and screen for thirty years now. Her husband, Elise’s father, Piers Curtis was held in similar affection, especially since appearing as Lord ‘such and such’ in the highly successful Netflix period drama ‘Downerton’.
Caitlin and Piers had met in their early twenties, during a season at the RSC. Their affair had begun almost immediately, despite Caitlin being married at the time, to a theatre impresario twice her age who had ‘discovered’ her in more ways than one. The affair had been passionate and within two years, Caitlin was divorced and she and Piers were married.
It wasn’t what you’d have called a traditional marriage however. Both partners’ indiscretions were plentiful and, as their careers took off, well documented by the tabloid press, who couldn’t get enough of the couple.
It was one of these indiscretions that had resulted in Elise. After they married, Caitlin and Piers employed a housekeeper, an eighteen-year-old Swedish girl called Inge. Inge had impossibly perfect Scandinavian looks and Piers had fallen for her. She became one of his many conquests. Unfortunately, he also got her pregnant. When Inge decided that she wanted to keep the child, Piers and Caitlin agreed that they would do the decent thing and support Inge and the baby.
Sadly however, Inge died in hospital four hours after giving birth to Elise, from undiagnosed internal bleeding. Elise’s birth certificate showed Inge as her mother and Piers as her father. A subsequent adoption certificate showed that Caitlin had become her adopted mother.
Piers and Caitlin were loving parents but they lacked both the time and the skills for the job. So they outsourced the Lara Escort task to another pretty young woman named Carole, who lived with them. Carole first acted as nanny to Elise and then, when she grew older, as a kind of governess while her parents were working. Some years later Elise would come to realise that Carole was both Caitlin and Piers’ lover. A relationship that endured to this day.
Carole treated Elise like a daughter and gave her the grounding she needed. Elise was a wild child however, which wasn’t helped by her parents’ laissez-faire attitude to just about everything. As she matured, they allowed her to drink, have boys stay over and do pretty much whatever she wanted. But it was Carole who’d collected her from the police station after she’d been detained on public order charges and it was Carole who would pick up the teenage Elise, drunk from parties and with tear smudged mascara after some boy had let her down.
Elise was a bright child though and managed to get a place at the London School of Fashion where she excelled in the creative, avant-gard, world of design. The real key to her success however was in inheriting both her birth mother’s genes. As she matured, Elise turned into a beautiful, tall blonde, with the sort of angular features that photographers couldn’t get enough of. Her celebrity lineage did her no harm either and modelling agencies fought to have her on their books.
Modelling took her all over the world but despite earning a small fortune Elise didn’t leave home until she was twenty-five. Her parents’ permissive attitude and Carole’s practical support meant that she hadn’t really needed to. It was only in the last couple of years that she’d finally moved out to a mews house in Chelsea, which she shared with her boyfriend, Rufus.
Now, at twenty-seven, Elise was a brand ambassador for a French fashion house, the face of a well-known perfume and a woman with her own swimsuit and lingerie range. It was the latter that had brought her to L.A. just a short trip to discuss using her upcoming collection in a movie.
After watching a couple of episodes of Night Watch, Elise took some pills to help her sleep. They must have been strong because the next thing she was aware of was the cabin attendant waking her for breakfast. The minor celebs were quiet now. Hung over from the previous night’s free booze.
The flight landed at Heathrow ahead of time on Thursday morning. Jane, Elise’s assistant had organised a car for her and a man stood in the Arrivals area with placard. Observing the driver fight through the London traffic reminded her how busy the city was these days and it took the best part of an hour to do the fourteen miles from Heathrow to the King’s Road.
The driver carried her bags into the house then drove off. Elise closed the front door behind her and then, silence. She wasn’t keen on silence. It was one of the reasons she’d lived at her parent’s house for so long, she got lonely on her own.
When her phone rang she was pretty sure she knew who it would be.
“Hi. It’s Peter. I’m just phoning to make sure you got back ok.”
It was good to hear Peter’s voice. It felt like ages since they’d last spoken.
“Hi. Yes, I’m fine. The flight got in a bit earlier than expected.”
“That’s good,” he said. “How do you feel?”
“Not too bad. I slept on the plane.”
There was a long pause.
“I’ve missed you,” she told him.
“How much?” Peter asked.
“If you came over I could show you.”
She hated Escort Lara herself for being so forward.
“I’ve got meetings until two. I could drop by after that.”
“I’d like that.”
“I’ll see you later then…”
Elise felt a twinge of excitement as she put the mobile down. It was one o’clock now. That gave her time to have a soak in the bath and wash her hair. There was nothing like travel to make you feel unclean.
At three o’clock Peter Duggan pulled up on the narrow street outside Elise’s house. He let the Aston Martin DB4 burble to itself for a minute before killing the engine. Peter loved his car. It had the kind of class he’d always aspired to but knew that he could never attain.
Peter was already an extremely wealthy man however. An Essex-Boy made good, he’d started at the bottom and built a career for himself, ducking and diving his way through London’s financial district. Now, at forty, he managed his own highly successful hedge fund, ‘Basildon Investments’. He was a cause celebre in financial circles but an upstart in social ones. It irked him but there was nothing to be done about it.
Elise waited in the open doorway for him. She’d agonised over what to wear, not knowing whether to dress up or just present herself naked. In the end she’d opted for nothing but black stockings and suspenders, covered by a short silk robe. Peter liked stockings and suspenders. Most men did.
Once he was inside, with the door closed they hugged. Wrapping her arms around him, Elise gave Peter a squeeze and buried her head in his chest. He smelled good. He always did.
“Come to bed,” she said a bit too enthusiastically and without saying another word, took his hand and led him up the stairs.
In the bedroom they hugged again but this time it quickly turned into a kiss. Peter wasted no time undoing her robe and gave a sigh of appreciation when he saw what was underneath.
“You approve?” she asked.
“Very much,” he replied.
“Good. Now let’s get you out of that suit.”
She stood behind Peter and helped him off with his jacket then went to hang it over the back of a chair. As she walked away from him she could feel him staring at her backside so she wiggled it sexily. When she returned, she slipped off his tie but took less care with that, throwing it in the direction of the jacket. It missed the chair and landed on the floor.
“Oops,” she joked.
“That’s a hand printed Hermes tie.” Peter explained.
“Then you’ll want to punish me for being so careless with it,” she told him.
Peter looked into her eyes and ran a hand down her cheek.
“Well you’d better get on your knees then,” was all he said.
She knelt down in front of Peter and watched as he undid his belt. The moment he’d finished she took over, getting to work on his fly then pulling his trousers and boxers down so that they fell around his ankles.
Peter reached round to cradle the back of her head with his hand before guiding his already erect cock into her waiting mouth. First it was just the head, teasing her, then some of the shaft, then all of it. She relaxed her throat muscles and took all of him in, but then Peter pulled her head even closer, so that her nose was squashed against his pubic hair. He held her there for what seemed like an age before eventually relaxing his grip and allowing her to breathe again. It was only then that she gagged a little.
“You’re out of practise,” Peter observed as he pulled his cock out of her mouth.
“I’m Lara Escort Bayan sorry,” she replied.
“You’d better try again.”
They repeated the process and this time she managed not to gag, at least to begin with. She tilted her head back and looked dolefully into Peter’s eyes as he began to fuck her face. She tried to remain composed and at first it worked but as his strokes became more forceful she couldn’t help but splutter. This time, he didn’t stop though and she couldn’t pull away because the hand behind her head wouldn’t let her.
Her discomfort spurred Peter on and he forced himself deeper into Elise’s mouth. Her gag reflex made her want to throw up and her stomach involuntarily began to regurgitate bile. Sticky, stringy liquid seeped from the sides of her mouth and down her chin as he used her mouth like a vagina.
“Take it you little slut,” he told her as she struggled to catch her breath
Only when Peter saw that Elise’s eyes were watering did he stop. Grabbing her throat firmly with one hand he guided her up off her knees then, without saying anything, he pushed her back onto the bed. She watched as he removed the last of his clothes then waited for him to mount her. Peter spat on her pussy then quickly fingered his saliva into her.
“Be gentle,” she murmured slightly pathetically.
Elise knew he wouldn’t. She didn’t want him to be anyway.
With no further foreplay, Peter simply rammed his cock into Elise, leaving her vagina no choice but to expand to accommodate him. He pinned her arms back above her head then just fucked her for all he was worth. She’d hoped he might chew on her nipples, she enjoyed that. But this was Peter’s fantasy, not hers, and it wasn’t her place to direct him.
There was no kissing, no tenderness. Peter just focussed his efforts on fucking her as violently as he could. She lay back and took the pounding, whimpering for effect while Peter fucked her so aggressively that she worried he might run out of steam before he came. But then, without warning, he hurriedly pulled out.
Elise knew what was coming next. Straddling her chest, Peter began to wank his cock furiously over her and then, at point blank range, he emptied himself onto her face. She tried to keep her eyes open, staring up at him, until a squirt of his cum landed in one of them. She couldn’t help but squint as Peter continued to wank himself until he’d squeezed out every last drop of cum from his cock, then he relaxed.
“I’m sorry,” he said smiling. “I got some in your eye.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said looking up at him and smiling back.
“Let me clean you up,” he offered, reaching for some tissues from the nightstand.
Elise scrunched up her eyelids and let Peter remove his cum from her face. When he’d removed all traces of his ejaculate, he got off and lay down beside her. She snuggled up into him and he put an arm around her.
“Thank you for coming over,” she told him. “Tell Olivia that, I’ll be round to see her after breakfast tomorrow.”
“She’ll like that,” Peter said. “When’s Rufus back.”
“Saturday morning, I hope. You know what he’s like.”
“I don’t ask and he doesn’t tell. It works better that way. I spoke to him yesterday. He seemed confident he’d be back though.”
“Will we see you on Sunday?”
“I hope so. I’m sure he’ll be keen to see Olivia.”
Peter got dressed and, after they’d shared a final kiss, he left. Elise could hear the unmistakable roar of the Aston as he fired it up. He let it burble for a minute or so, then the noise slowly became fainter as the car disappeared off down the road.
Elise felt guilty. She’d just fucked her best friend’s husband. She’d apologise to Olivia tomorrow.
To be continued….
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32