Heather's Hectic Weekend Pt. 02

'Rita,' said Alex, clutching at straws. 'Where is she? She's supposed to be out with you. And she's not answering her phone.'

'Rats,' said Heather.

The other two looked at her. For once she looked uncomfortable.

'I tried her home number as well,' Alex went on. 'No reply. I just knew she wanted to get me out of the way tonight. She's seeing someone else, isn't she?'

'I don't know what she's doing,' said Heather. 'Honestly, on the life of The Manor school cat. And that is my most sacred oath, by the way.'

Alex was scowling. 'She's seeing another bloke. I know she is.'

'Alex, watch my lips. I honestly don't know what she's doing. Maybe she's taken up bingo.'

'Not likely. She's with another man. And I have several candidates in mind.'

'If that's what you believe then all the more reason to let Naz have a gander. Go on, Naz, check him out.' Heather grinned. 'Think of it as business mixed with pleasure. Gammy goolies can lead to lots of awful complications in later life.'

Heather must have overcome her discomfort. She seemed to be back to her usual persuasive self. Naz felt reluctantly obliged to obey. Telling herself she was only doing her duty, she turned to Alex. 'I suppose she's right. Shall we use the same tactics we used with your trousers?'

'Naz,' he almost wailed. 'I've got a . . . an erection.'

'I think we all know that. Come on, let's get it over with.'

Naz couldn't help being impressed by what she found in Alex's boxers. His wasn't the biggest she'd ever encountered, but it was certainly above average. And it had an interesting curve to it.

'Looks much as always,' said Heather.

Naz was surprised by the voice. She'd been in a world of her own and hadn't noticed she had black-haired company, kneeling beside her.

'His cock's obviously okay,' she said. 'But his balls do look a little swollen.'

'That's because they're highly aroused,' said Heather. 'They're getting ready to shoot spunk into your lovely, luscious mouth.'

'Hev!'

'Don't be coy, Naz. It doesn't suit you.'

'Anyone would seem coy next to you. Naz frowned. 'You seem to know a lot about his balls. Are you acquainted?'

'You could say we got acquainted last weekend.'

'Hey,' said Alex, 'I am still here, you know.'

'Alex, just sit back and enjoy. And don't interrupt when I'm doing your chatting up for you.'

'Chatting up?'

'Well somebody's got to do it. And you both want the same thing.'

'He's all battered and bruised,' Naz protested.

'No, he's in need of TLC. Caress his goolies; make sure they're all right, then below him.'

'Below him?'

'Fellate him. Put him in a relaxed mood before he finishes his story.'

'Shit! Spider! I'd forgotten about him.'

'Forget about him again. Put him out of your mind and do as I say.'

Naz looked Alex in the eye. 'TLC?' she asked.

He nodded and she committed. It was as simple as that.

Chapter Fourteen

(Friday 26th April 2002)

Before coming to university (before deciding to lose her virginity), Naz had been unsure about blow jobs. Some of her friends claimed they were fun. Some also claimed that giving them was less serious than having full sex. Naz had had her doubts though. Pee came out of cocks, didn't it? Yuk. Thanks, but no.

Being grown-up and civilized with John had changed her mindset. She'd first done it because he had shown no hesitation in going down on her. She'd done it again because he so obviously liked it. Then she kept on doing it because everyone liked it, herself included.

Sucking Alex's cock was a whole new ballgame; having Heather as an audience made an awfully big difference. And, although she'd promised not to interfere, Heather was determined to be involved. Her ongoing commentary was . . .

Well, it wasn't so much inspiring as it was demanding.

'That's it girl, you've got him squirming. Good grief, if you could see his face! Go faster. Not much, just a little bit faster. That's it. That's it. Now go faster still. That's right. Oh yes, you really have got him in the palm of your hand.'

Naz wasn't a major subscriber to women's magazines but had read a few, usually someone else's over a pint in the Union. Sex tip articles always amused her. She'd recently seen one on blow jobs, written by "a vastly experienced lady". That lady obviously had a thing about teeth. According to her, women liked to nibble but most men couldn't hack it. Poor mites were too sensitive, especially as you moved up their shaft. "Teeth are a no-no," she'd concluded. "Unless specifically asked, put them away when with somebody new."

The article had made Naz laugh. Maybe it was her, but "put them away" conjured up images of sets of dentures in glasses of water. Perhaps that particular lady was so "vastly experienced" she was able to gum all her new conquests to orgasm.

Alex wasn't being gummed to orgasm but he was getting near. She would have been able to tell even if Heather hadn't been describing proceedings.

He's getting ready, she thought, getting ready to shoot spunk into my lovely, luscious mouth.

Suddenly Heather was behind her, gripping her tits. 'He's a gentleman,' she said. 'He'll wait for you to cum first.'

'Mmmm, mmmm,' Naz replied around her mouthful of cock.

One of Heather's hands moved down and fiddled with Naz's zip. No, Heather never fiddled. Her hand deftly, skilfully unfastened her jeans then wormed its way into her knickers. Attacked her clit . . .

Naz came almost immediately. It was great. So was the wave of anticipation that rushed through her. Up until yesterday she'd believed she had a limited supply of cums: three or four a night . . . five if she was exceptionally lucky. Heather had somehow converted her store. Instead of a poky little cupboard with wooden shelves it was suddenly the size of a superstore warehouse. Whoever dished them out last night must have used a fork-lift. He/she would need to use it again tonight because . . .

'Mmmm, mmmm,' Naz went. Then she made the mistake of opening her mouth to celebrate cum number two. That was a big, big mistake. It coincided with Alex's. Consequently (and using her quaint Yorkshire slang), half his "muck" slopped out of her mouth and onto his legs.

'Very whore-like,' Heather said approvingly. 'Lick it up.'

Naz obeyed without hesitation. Then Heather was pulling her away from Alex.

'It's dribbled down your chin. Here, let me . . .'

Naz let Heather lick her face. Let her kiss her. And then . . .

Next thing she knew she was naked, on her back on the rug. Heather, also naked, was on top of her; tribbing her. She had no idea how she'd got from kneeling fully clothed to this. No idea at all. Being tribbed was nice, though. Hev had done her that way last night, but only briefly. This was going to be anything but brief. Inexperienced as she was, she could tell.

Oh yes, she thought, praise be for superstore warehouses!

*****

Naz found Heather's tribbing remorseless but wonderful. In fact while she was doing it everything about the world was wonderful. If she'd died there and then she would have died happy.

Her legs were widely parted and Hev was between them, continuously grinding their pussies together, using a rhythm that worked oh so well. Two slower grinds followed by six quicker ones. It seemed like she'd be doing it ad infinitum and Naz for one wasn't objecting.

'Oh yes,' she moaned, 'oh yes, yes, yes!'

Their tits were rubbing together as their bodies moved to Heather's beat. Their rock-hard nips were in regular contact with each other as they glided over globes of firm, sweaty flesh. Heather's long black hair cascaded down, mingling with Naz's after hitting her face like a shower of tiny kisses. From time to time she'd follow it with real kisses; kissing her eyes and nose as well as her mouth.

And the feel of their pussies together! The cums were coming relentlessly, like incoming waves on a sandy beach. The sensations were so very, very good. No man had ever fucked her as well as this. No man had even come close.

Penetration? Who needed it!

'Yes, yes, yes,' she reiterated. 'Oh yes, yes, yes!!'

Sticking to the same rhythm Heather picked up the pace. Naz's legs had somehow got up into the air. Now they were flapping around comically with bent knees. The only possible way to control them was by wrapping them round Hev's lower back. That encouraged Hev to go even faster.

The next cum actually made Naz scream. It was her biggest and best but she could already sense she was building to something bigger and even better.

'Oh yes,' she yelled. 'Fuck me Hev. Fuck me forever!!'

Chapter Fifteen

(Saturday 27th April 2002)

'That was a waste of a shower,' Alex observed wryly. 'You both smell of sex now.'

'Who cares,' said Heather.

'Ask me if I'm bothered,' added Naz.

'I'm not complaining,' Alex said, grinning and simultaneously wincing. 'You both smell good to me. Are you done now? Are you ready to hear the rest of my woes?'

Heather chuckled as she helped Naz to her feet. They'd worked their lust off nicely . . . for the time being, at least. A brief interlude seemed in order (that and the last of the chardonnay) and she was ready to hear the worst. Not that she was expecting anything too bad. Alex was here and alive, fully functional if slightly shop-soiled.

'You'd taken a white tablet,' she prompted.

'So I had.'

Heather noted that Alex's face was flushed. He'd downed a lot of Courvoisier and that, combined with Naz's belowing, had mellowed him. Rita's visualization relaxation techniques were probably quicker and definitely healthier, but did it matter right now? Was anyone complaining?

'Okay,' he resumed, 'so I swallowed the tablet. I didn't want to . . . it could have been anything . . . but I had a gun on me. I reckoned the tablet was the lesser evil. Spider made me open my mouth wide, to prove it was gone.'

Heather remembered the little old lady and coughed, covering her guilty grin.

'It's hazy for a bit after that,' Alex went on. 'I remember Spider making a call off his own phone. I think it was to someone called Daz or Dazza. Anyway, they were setting up some sort of a meeting. I was sitting on the steps by then. Did I tell you that?'

'No,' said Naz. 'And go steady on the brandy.'

'He just stood there, watching me. I guess he was waiting for his pill to take effect. Then, I don't know how long later, he told me to walk out to the car. I wasn't scared or angry anymore. And I wasn't in any great pain. I just did what he said. It seemed easier.'

Heather looked to Naz. 'What do you reckon?'

'I dunno. Some sort of tranquilizer. Very popular with popped-up kids coming out of clubs. I bet Spider has dozens to choose from.'

'And then?' Heather said. 'Didn't you see me arriving in my taxi?'

'I don't remember seeing anything. I must have dozed off. First thing I can recall is going off-road.'

'Off-road?'

'I didn't realize at the time, but we'd gone from a regular A or B road onto a track. The bumping about must have woken me up. I know now because I retraced our route later, trying to get a mobile signal.'

'So you really were in the middle of nowhere.'

'Yeah, you can say that again. I woke like abruptly, feeling alert. When I sat up in the back seat we were going through trees. Then we came to a gate with a KEEP OUT sign on it. Spider stopped and unlocked it.'

'He had a key?' Naz sounded surprised.

'Yes he did. I had to climb over it on my way out of there. That was probably the moment when my bollocks were in most danger, thinking back.'

'On with the story,' said Heather.

'The track got rougher and rougher. We went through a stretch without trees and then came to some more. There was a Focus parked up, two wheels on the verge. Spider parked behind it and told me to get out. My knee wasn't so stiff then, so I hobbled off in the direction he told me to.'

'Were you still in a forest?' Heather wondered.

'The trees were very patchy. I've never seen anything less like a "forest". There wasn't much chance of meeting Friar Tuck in there.'

'And . . .'

'And I began to hear the sound of a spade, digging.'

'Oh my,' said Naz, 'I don't like this.'

'Me neither,' Heather admitted.

'I had this awful feeling,' said Alex. He didn't look close to tears now; he looked like a storyteller with a captive audience. 'I read this book once, by Dennis Wheatley. His big hero was made to dig his own grave . . . somewhere in France, not long after the revolution. He was outnumbered lots to one.'

'I thought Dennis Wheatley wrote about Satanism,' Naz put in.

'He did. But he wrote about lots of other things, too. Roger Brook was a cross between James Bond and The Scarlet Pimpernel, back in Napoleonic times.'

'You thought of this while Spider was marching you to your death, did you?' Heather was still chilled icily inside. Alex was not to know that Spider had previous when it came to making folk "disappear".

'I thought about it because Roger Brook escaped.' Alex smiled thinly, stretching his spilt lip yet again. 'He was helped by some passing war hero . . . Marshal Lannes, I believe . . . but he did the first bit on his own.'

'How did he escape?' Naz asked.

'They handed him the spade and told him to get digging. He used it as a weapon, chopped off a few heads and then legged it.'

'Sounds like a plan,' said Heather. 'So what happened in real life?'

'We went into yet another patch of trees and found this Dazza character standing in a hole. He hadn't got very far, but the shape gave it away. It was definitely a grave.'

'Please tell me you chopped their heads off,' Heather said, only half-joking.

'I never even got my hands on the spade.' Alex shrugged. 'I was going to go for it, but I didn't get the chance. And I know I'd have probably blobbed, before you say it.'

'So what happened?'

'Spider told Dazza to get out of his hole and sit down. He told me to sit down, too. Then he launched into a speech about all the people he'd killed.' Alex didn't look so self-possessed now. Clouds were crossing his brow, and very stormy clouds at that.

'He said I had two choices,' he resumed. 'I could dig my grave and die in it. Or I could stop fucking around and tell him what I knew.'

'Meaning about us,' said Heather.

'Yes. I said again I didn't know who'd brought Carrie home. He said fair enough, but he wasn't dumb. I had to know my sister's friends, and I had to know my own password. Given that he was right, I took my phone and activated it. There wasn't a signal, but my address book came on straightaway.'

'And . . .'

'And he made me go through it, one by one. Apart from "white cunt" and "Paki bitch" he hadn't tried to describe you. He watched me go name after name, insisting on descriptions. And he was smart about it. He kept going back, telling me to re-describe individuals.'

'He's a bastard,' Heather said. 'But I never mistook him for a stupid bastard. How did it go?'

'I was incredibly smooth.' Once more Alex smothered a painful (to him) grin. 'I must admit I was afraid when I got to Mother's name, but he never went back to her. Too old to be a suspect, I suppose. But otherwise he was scrupulous. He checked, double-checked and triple-checked. If I hadn't stuck to the truth most of the time I'd have been caught out.'

'What did you say about me?' Naz blurted.

'Nothing,' he assured her. 'I haven't got your number and, up until today, I only knew you as "Naz". You didn't come up at all.'

'What about me?' Heather asked.

'I blustered.' Alex actually looked proud of himself. 'I said you were my ex and you hated me. Short, plump and with spiky brown hair. I even volunteered an address, so he could go see for himself.'

'You gave him my address!'

'No, I don't know either of your addresses. I made it up. Okay, I know where your homes are . . . now, anyway . . . but I don't know numbers or anything. There wasn't much he could have beaten out of me.'

'Your mother's right,' Heather observed. 'You are heroic. You're cavalier and flipping lucky with it, but heroic all the same.'

'Ditto and thanks,' said Naz. 'What happened next?'

'He asked me for the names of Carrie's university friends: ones who weren't on my phone. I pleaded ignorance. He believed me.'

Heather and Naz looked at each other.'

'Our uni hoodies,' said Heather. 'He knows where to look for us.'

'Shit,' said Naz. Then, addressing Alex: 'Is that it?'

'Spider made me describe a couple of girls again. Well, he made me describe a few blokes again too; ones with names that could work both ways, if you know what I mean. Chris and Rob . . .'

'And Alex,' said Heather, smirking despite herself. 'I know an Alex who works both ways.'

'I think I've gone straight three months early,' he countered. 'I think I'm in love with Naz.'

'Be careful with him, Naz,' Heather advised. 'He's bad news. And he thinks I'm, short and plump with spiky brown hair.'

'He's visually impaired if nothing else,' said Naz. 'But back to the story.'

'Not a lot left,' Alex said. 'Spider believed I didn't know nothing . . .'

'Anything,' Heather corrected.

'. . . so he gave me the big speech. The land around us was peppered with unmarked graves. If I was so stupid to ever mention tonight, I'd be back out there. I wouldn't be so lucky a second time and blah-de-blah. Shut up and live. Blab and die nastily.'

'And . . .'

'And I assured him my lips were sealed, naturally. He told me to stay where I was until I heard their car engines driving off. So I did.'

'What happened to the grave?' Naz wondered.

'Dazza filled it back in. It didn't take him five minutes. He'd cut off the sod, like a greenkeeper or what have you. Put 'em back on top like pieces of a jigsaw.'

'And . . .'

'And my frigging phone wouldn't work. I waited until their engines faded into the distance then trudged after them as best I could.'

'How long were you trudging?'

'I don't know. I must have got halfway to Yorkshire. Well away from those scattered trees, anyway.'

'And then you finally got a signal.'

'Yes,' said Alex, 'I finally did.'