Emergence

"Most weeks... "

"Good. Let me know where you'll be staying. I might like to be corrupted again."

The words produced a warm glow in Rachael's stomach. It didn't seem as though her fears had ever been justified. The opposite, in fact. He rolled onto his back and she shifted, resting her hands and chin on his chest. She sought further validation.

"Tell me what you thought when you saw me in the bar."

He gave her a look of slight surprise:

"What do you think I thought? It was only the obvious, really."

She licked his nipple.

"And that was?"

"That I'd just seen an extremely sexy lady, who was dressed to provoke, one that was up for it, and didn't mind who knew it. Someone who maybe had a seriously randy streak."

"You're saying all the right things...I hope I lived up to expectations."

"Oh yes."

"Was that it? You weren't put off thinking I looked a bit sluttish?"

"And what's wrong with that? I must admit, when I got a bit closer and saw your nipples poking through your dress, I thought you were getting a bit blatant, but I'm certainly not going to complain. A bloke likes a clear signal or two. I was surprised, though. When we saw you get out of your car earlier, I thought you looked quite tasty, but the last thing I expected was seeing you out on the pull."

She mused.

"I think some others in the bar thought I was a prostitute. A whore."

His expression was suddenly sincere

"If you were, you'd make a bloody good living. Lots of repeat customers."

Intoxicated, she impulsively moved to kiss him. Her tongue probed his mouth until they broke, gasping for breath. Without warning her satiation had been replaced by renewed lechery. She reached down to his penis and began to draw off the condom.

"I think I'd better get rid of this."

She rolled to the side of the bed and stood. Dangling the condom coquettishly from her hand, she walked around the bed to the bathroom, enjoying his eyes on her. At the door she gave a brief waggle of her derrière before stepping in and closing the door. Dropping the condom in the toilet, she moistened a facecloth, wiping her groin and armpits. She noted that her stocking tops were wet from her juices; in fact, the whole area was sodden, even up to the base of her spine. Her flow had been so lavish that it travelled the full length of her posterior cleft.

Standing in front of the wash basin inspecting herself, she stood back in order to get a full-length view. To her own eyes, she exuded an air of lubricity, even without seeing her reddened breasts, so obviously recently mauled, her face gave unmistakable clues. Her cheeks were suffused with a glow, her eyes shone, and her half-smile betrayed euphoria. That was nothing compared to the spectacle of her pudenda. Her inner lips were inflamed, poking beyond the outer. Rather than their normal delicate pink, they were a deep, glossy red. At their juncture her clitoris stood proud, it's tip poking beyond the safety of it's protective hood. She raised her right leg onto the side of the bath to view the sight more easily. It fascinated her.

Tearing her eyes away, she began to slide the crumpled slip down over her rear, and when it pooled around her ankles she stepped delicately out of it. She was now as she'd imagined earlier in the evening. The darkness of the stockings served to counterpoint her nakedness, she thought. For the first time ever she understood the effect that such simple garments had on men. Alistair loved her to wear them, and often asked that she wear them for their lovemaking. For her part, she'd never grasped why. The implicit air of decadence that they bestowed was now obvious to her.

Under her breath she muttered, "That's the last time you'll have to persuade me to wear these, Mr Barnes...."

She envisaged herself in them lying expectantly on their bed as Alistair entered the bedroom, and the dawning look of delight on his face. Curiously, she thought, it brought no pang of guilt -- only of expectation. In fact, she mused, "It'd feel very naughty to wear this very pair."

She was definitely getting worked up again, she thought. The idea had given her quite a thrill. That she could be quite so dissolute...And, she realised, that her enthusiasm to get back into the bedroom, to her nameless lover, was now nothing whatsoever to do with her earlier need of validation. It was purely now that she desperately wanted the physical sensations on offer. Somehow, that seemed healthy to her, untainted by darker motives, despite them being "forbidden fruit". Maybe she really just did have a strong sexual appetite, and had suppressed it. Well, no more...

"Get on with it," she thought. She repaired her makeup, paying special attention to her lipstick. The washcloth was refreshed, and she made to go. As she did, a last finishing touch occurred. She lifted one of the strings of beads still around her neck. Thumbing open the clip, she passed it around her waist and refastened it. "Nice," was her conclusion - another decadent touch to go with the stockings, stressing her willowy frame.

Back in the room she couldn't stop herself taking the long way around the bed, giving him time to feast his eyes on her. Still supine, he raised himself on his elbows to watch. Sitting beside him at groin height, she lifted his flaccid penis between thumb and forefinger while smiling at him. "This needs a bit of TLC, I think."

Rachael began to wipe the skin of the shaft with the cloth. He sighed, lying back, surrendering to her ministrations. She could feel it starting to firm. Transferring her attentions to his testicles, she cupped them in the warm cloth before removing it, delivering a gentle kiss onto each. She looked up the length of his body to see him watching her attentively. Maintaining the contact she reached again for him. It was semi-hard, but still flopped to the side. She again wiped the shaft, and then, as he watched her, ran her pointed tongue up the length of its underside. Instantly it stood to attention.

"Hmm... good," she said. "None of that nasty rubber taste left. We'd better make sure it's all that clean, hadn't we?"

She drew down the foreskin, wiping the sensitive flesh of the tip. He squirmed. She draped the washcloth over the whole head before gripping it lightly with her left hand.

"Oh don't be such a baby. You wouldn't want me to have to suck a nasty-tasting one."

With that, she realised, she'd committed herself to her earlier fantasy. The Rachael that wouldn't take a cock in her mouth was gone -- this one craved it. She counselled restraint to herself, though. Take it slowly, and don't try to take anything too deep. You'd hate to look inexperienced, ending up gagging.

She started by applying her tongue gently to the underside of the head. She recalled somewhere being told that this was the most sensitive point. His reaction confirmed it. It was now completely hard.

She spoke, "Wait. I want you to be able to watch this."

With that she moved up the bed, piling the pillows high, gesturing for him to recline back against them. Coincidentally, it moved them to a point where she was able to see his erection in the mirror that had been such a part of the evening for her. With regret, Rachael realised that with a little more care, she'd have been able to watch herself for most of the earlier proceedings.

Kneeling between his thighs, she bent forward and grasped the shaft with her left hand. Lowering her head she licked the underside again, before swirling her tongue around the tumescent head.

"The nicest lollipop in the world," she purred. "Help me. Tell me what feels best."

He groaned and said, "Oh Christ. Just keep going like that. You know exactly what to do."

"Pretend I'm a complete beginner."

"Some hope of that." His head dropped back.

Hoping for inspiration, she inspected it. As she'd thought earlier, her be-ringed hand did look tiny wrapped around his thickness. With amusement she noticed that she'd failed to remove her engagement and wedding bands. She wondered if he'd noticed. Most likely, she assumed. He knew he was being fellated by a married woman, then -- it created a bond of complicity between them.

As earlier, she noticed a growing drop of clear fluid at the tip. "Here goes," she thought, extending her tongue to flick it up. It was surprisingly tasteless. There was no obstacle now to taking the head into her mouth. Moving closer, it dawned on here that it was going to take a stretch of her jaws to take it in its entirety. For the moment, she contented herself with applying her lips to the end, and inside, extending her tongue to probe the slit. She began to suck gently.

"God Almighty..." His outburst startled her. Impulsively, she raised her head. Before she was able to express concern, his hand was on the back of her head.

"Don't you dare stop that, now you've started."

Her confidence buoyed, she resumed. Casting a clandestine look sideways at the mirror, she was disappointed to have her view obscured by her hanging hair. Although not worn long, it was long enough to shield her view. Without thinking she reached with her left hand to sweep it behind an ear.

"Like to watch yourself do you? Kinky bitch."

He was grinning down at her. She nodded. There was no need now to be furtive. She shifted her position so that she straddled his right leg, angling her so that she could easily see both his face and her reflection. She reapplied herself, making small movements up and down, gradually widening the circle of her purple lips so that they slipped further and further down over the head. Her lips, and his angry looking flesh, were remarkably close in colour, she noted. Each time she moved her mouth down she slid her tiny-looking hand up the shaft. He was now using the hand at the back of her head to dictate the rhythm. His eyes were closed as he gave way to the sensations she was creating.

Rachael's eyes returned to the mirror. Watching herself, savouring the fullness of her mouth, had her feeling more wicked than she'd believed was possible. He was producing increasing quantities of slippery pre-come, filling her mouth with viscous fluid. Without hesitation she swallowed it.

"You slut," she thought. "You dirty slut." It wasn't self-condemnatory, she relished the thought. It was the sluts, after all, who got all the pleasure, and now she was getting her share.

Rachael took in the rest of the imagery. As her rump was raised high in the air it occurred to her that she was displaying her rear in the dressing table mirror. Perhaps she could crane round and catch sight of that? Her breasts were hanging downward, occasionally touching her lover's thighs. The rest of her looked slender and lithe. At the lower extremity, she saw her slim, stocking-clad legs, her feet still in those tart's heels. She'd seen pictures of girls in just this position and costume in Alistair's magazines. She'd thought them sluts too, willing to be undignified, humiliated. Now, it just looked very, very sexy to her.

Remembering those pictures, she recalled one taken from behind. The girl's bottom was presented to the camera, and below it, she was fingering the full lips of her vulva. Rachael considered. At this moment it seemed the right thing to do. Her left hand crept back between her legs and she started to stroke her slit, Immediately it yielded to her fingers, and she felt her secretions flowing over them. It felt divine.

As she finally took the entirety of his head into her mouth, she slid her lips the inch or so further down the shaft that she could manage without causing her gag reflex, she heard him groan, "Fucking Hell, that's good. That's so good. You give the best blow job I've ever had."

Rachael looked at him. "Blow job" sounded so much sordid than "fellatio". She liked it. His eyes were still closed, his hips writhing in time with the movements of her hand. For the first time she seriously considered the possibility of him coming in her mouth. For as much as she liked the idea, she couldn't imagine being able to swallow anything other than a small quantity of his semen. It wasn't that she was unwilling, rather she simply thought the quantity likely to be too much for her. Perhaps she could swallow some and then let the rest spray onto her breasts? That was a mental picture she liked. It was maybe closer than she liked. The pre-come was starting to take on a salty tang, a taste consistent with what she had heard of about semen.

There was a problem, though. Rachael very much wanted to have him inside her again, and that seemed unlikely if he came now.

The dilemma was solved for her. She felt him wrap his fingers in her hair to gently pull back her head. She resisted, continuing to suck, until the head slipped from between her lips with an audible "pop". She began to become aware that her jaw was aching.

"Stop. Enough."

She felt mildly hurt. "Didn't you like it?"

"Too much. I wasn't going to last much longer, and it's still early."

Rachael was impressed by his self restraint, even though it did cause her a slight sense of deprivation. She replied, with mock petulance, "Damn. Where's a girl going to get her vitamins from, if she can't get a drink?"

Those were the best words Rachael could think of, in keeping with the image of the tart she'd watched in the mirror. Speaking them out loud titillated her so he continued with, "You'll ruin my complexion."

Her eyelashes fluttered at him. He laughed. She crawled up to tongue his ear. He whispered, "The best skin treatment ever, I've heard. And it doesn't matter if you swallow it or apply it directly."

She opted to continue the burlesque. In feigned indignation she exclaimed, "Mr 'Y', I'm shocked. How dare you suggest such a thing as me sitting with a strange man's fluids all over my face and chest. And me a respectable married woman."

She kissed him, determined that he should taste himself on her tongue. Where had that come from, she wondered? Certainly she'd found admitting openly the illicit nature of their encounter was a thrill. When they separated, he spoke, "Married, perhaps. Respectable, no way, more a kinky bitch, like I said. I had you spotted from the moment I walked into the bar."

He grasped her shoulders and flipped her onto her back. It was a momentary reprise of the earlier moments when she'd felt helpless in the face of his strength. He loomed over her.

"I reckoned that you were up for a bit of adventure. I suppose things get a bit dull at home for anyone as greedy for it as you."

Still in character she responded, "What ARE you suggesting, Mr 'Y'?"

He lowered his mouth to her ear. "That you, Mrs 'X', couldn't be satisfied with just one cock for any length of time.. That, and you'd like a bit of this."

As he slid down her body she spread her legs automatically. His hands parted her thighs as far as her hip joints would allow. Staring down at her gaping vagina, he waggled his eyebrows lasciviously while licking his lips in a travesty of hunger. Despite her eagerness she laughed out loud.

He moved his hands around, once again cupping her buttocks. Instead of bending the whole way, he lifted her crotch to him, moving his hands to her flanks to do so. She found herself straining to help him and lifted her calves over his shoulders. He buried his face in her streaming snatch. She could feel his nose intruding into her tunnel, and the roughness of his cheeks on her splayed inner lips. As his tongue was probing into her she couldn't contain a wordless cry of delectation. "Ooooooh."

As he crushed her rear to his chest his hands were around her hips, tonguing at her vigorously. He lifted his face, smirked at her, and announced, "See, I knew you'd like it. Bet you're not feeling very respectable right now, are you? Upside down, having your cunt sucked, and loving it."

He was right. What she was feeling was quite preposterously brazen. He lowered his head again and, this time, drew one of her swollen lips into his mouth to suck energetically. It was painful, but she was beyond the point where pain was necessarily un-erotic. She yelped before crooning her pleasure. He let that abused piece of flesh slip from between his lips before doing the same to the other side.

Rachael's head was swirling with pleasure. She felt ecstatic, intoxicated by her own behaviour. He lowered her to the bed, positioning himself lying with his face just inches from her dilated genitals. Still nursing her buttocks, he dipped his tongue almost to her anus and scooped up her copiously flowing nectar before dribbling it onto her clitoris. He dropped his face again, taking another mouthful before letting it flow into her navel. He lay alongside her and started to rub it over her belly. It felt luscious, buttery. Then he reached down to her gash again, scooped his fingers along its length, and brought them glistening in front of her face. He then anointed each nipple in turn, smoothing it over their puckered flesh.

She looked down at her teats, shining with her own juice. They looked pornographic. He shifted again and, finally, teased her clitoris with his tongue. It stood rigid and exposed. With his lips and then his teeth, he nipped gently at it, then more firmly. Rachael almost swooned. In near delirium she grasped for his head, unsure whether to press it to her harder, or to push it back to reduce the intensity of the sensations that were overwhelming her. The urge for contact won, and she ground herself onto his mouth, squealing, coming in a cascade of short, intense bursts.

When she quietened, he sat up, and drew her upright. She was limp and sobbing. He pulled her onto his lap, and cradled her until she quietened. He could feel her drenched vulva against him, and he began to harden again. Still again, she focussed on his face. There was a moment of silence, And then she fastened her lips onto his mouth, sucking like a leech. Her tongue was probing everywhere into his mouth, seeking every last flavour of herself. When the attack was over, he stared into her visibly shaken eyes, and said:

"I had a feeling you'd like that."

Her eyes were brimming he noted. She was beginning to grind her wetness against him, ready for more. He kissed her again, joking.

"Not bad for a respectable married woman"

She remained silent, running the palm of his hand over her chest. Rachael had found herself unable to answer. She was still coming to terms with the implications of the frenzy in which she's found herself, in which nothing, but nothing it seemed, had mattered to her but his tongue on her clitoris. God, if she could get that out of hand...

She forced a response from herself.

"You ain't seen nothing yet."

"You see, that's what I envy about you Respectable Married Women. If I come twice, the evening's over. You come three or four, and you're barely warmed up."

"Mr Y. I hope you're not implying that I've got some sort of excessive sexual appetite. I just want you to have me -- oh, another four or five times, and you'll be perfectly free to go."

The pressure of her pelvis on his cock was increasing. It dawned on him that she found this talk arousing.

"I'll do my best, Mrs X. I'd hate not to live up to expectations You have standards to keep up, I'm sure. Do you always inspire your lovers to such high achievements?"

She didn't respond. He felt her head drop onto his shoulder. There was a sudden change in the atmosphere, in the way her body was pressing against him; she continued to thrust her pelvis against his, but elsewhere it seemed now more a quest for comfort, than lust that was driving her. Then he realised. Her shoulders were again shaking; she was crying. Discomfited, he could think of nothing to do but hold her, and then rock her gently from side to side, cosseting her like a child.

She broke from him. At no stage looking him in the eye, she rushed into the bathroom. Once inside, Rachael broke down into a full-fledged bawl. Curling in a corner, she huddled in on herself.