Life, Sex & All That Ch. 07

Chapter Seven Night Angel

I'm an accountant. I realize I have mentioned this before but I think you may have gained a somewhat distorted impression of me from the last two episodes. The first you may recall started with me quietly masturbating while reading, if it can be called reading, a rather saucy magazine. That was until my darling wife caught me and made me feel like a naughty schoolboy with his hand deep in a hole in his trouser pocket. A trick I might add many of us used at my grammar school. Many a female teacher was tricked into putting their hand into a boy's pocket to find out what they had in their pocket.

The next time you saw me was at that rather seedy lap dancing bar when a rather young and energetic dancer managed to leave me in a somewhat wet, and financially embarrassing position.

This is not the way I am. Really, I am a very respectable professional father of three sitting upstairs in my study surrounded by my world. I hold dearly to the notion that 'An Englishman's Home is his Castle'. This is my Castle. Outside the window I gaze with pride over my estate. We live in a semi-detached bungalow about an hour from the city and within walking distance of the train station. Many in the Office are envious of what I have achieved.

In the driveway is my pride and joy. A GX487 dark green Land Cruiser. It is just perfect to drive to the village and it takes my whole golf buggy in the back when I go to the Club on Sundays and occasionally for collecting the groceries. The salesman told me quietly it was sexy to drive and he was right about that. Once I took it along a friend's unsealed driveway. It drove like a machine! Unfortunately it took me a week to clean the dirt from underneath. I had to do it with a toothbrush just to make sure it was back to pristine condition and then I had to repaint the wheels. I think I'll stay on sealed roads from now on.

Unfortunately Susan parks her car next to my GX487. You see hers is a rather dilapidated 1982 Yellow Sigma Station Wagon. It is a rust bucket, it has a coat hanger for an arial and it beats me how it actually keeps going. Susan loves it. She even has a name for it to heaven's sake - Busty! She says she needs it for her art things. If she had a new car it would only get dirty with her clay and paints and so on. I have offered to get her a new Hyundai or something else, which would be much less embarrassing in the neighbourhood.

Still we did have some fun in that car in our courting days. She was so spontaneous I never really knew what to expect next. That's why I fell madly in love with of course. At traffic lights she would put her hand onto my crutch and play with me. In broad daylight! Once she even pulled it out. She slipped her hand down along my penis and started playing with me while she was driving. It was interrupted each time she had to change gear and in that car is quite frequent. I didn't know what to do. We had only known each other for a few days. She played with me. Rubbed my shaft up and down, dug her hands into my balls and then said well that's enough for now! I was nearly bursting with an enormous erection and she dropped me off at work!

Now we have a home, children and the whole wonderful disaster. Out my back window I look down onto my lawn. I love my lawn and my miniature hedge. The highlight of my week on Saturday mornings is to first thoroughly wash my GX487 before mowing the lawn with my Flymo (Super 1.2) and finally after morning tea to trim my hedges. I feel so good. I can't tell you the satisfaction it gives me. When I look around at my completed work I know that all is right in the world.

My hedges stop. They stop next to an old shed, which was left from the old house.

This you see is Susan's studio. Between her part time job, kids and me she is an artist and sculptress. She's actually quite good. Makes heaps each weekend at the market. She says her work is 'post-modern erotica' what ever that means. Her paintings, well the ones I see are mainly life drawings and so are her sculptures. She has a wicked sense of humour. I will never forget the look on my mother's face when she opened her Christmas present one year. Susan had given her a phallic teapot, balls, hair and the spout was of course a partially erect cock.

My mother just said 'Very nice dear but what is it?' The children cracked up, I started counting up the socks and underpants I had been given and Susan just had that wicked smile on her face and said 'I just have to check the dinner, perhaps Brian can explain.'

I have been absolutely banned from going anywhere near the shed on the pain of death. This came about because some time back I thought I would give Susan a surprise and tidy up her studio. I spent all day when she was out cleaning, tidying, straightening things up and organizing it into and efficient, well set out and ordered room. I placed a rose on the table and lead her in to her surprise with her eyes shut.

Opening her eyes she froze. I thought she was pleased and would hug me, lots of kisses, lovemaking and the like but it was as the say 'the calm before the storm'. To use the colloquial she 'went ballistic'. I have never seen her or in fact anyone so angry. She paced slowly around the studio, muttering and building up her vented anger. I thought then perhaps I may have slightly over stepped the mark.

Then the shout began, and eventually the throwing of things... at me of course. I had lumps of clay, paints, crayons and a full set of phalluses hurled in my direction. Its funny the things you think about at moments like this when your life is about to end. I wondered whom Susan modelled her sculptured cocks from. I realized later of course that they were just variations of my penis – after all who else could they be?

Well since then I have not been allowed within a three-meter radius of the old shed.

Sometimes when I am doing my final trimming of the lawn edges with my nail scissors, I can get close enough to get a glimpse into the studio. Susan asks her female friends to model for her. A few times I have spotted them sitting naked in poses which would leave a man erect for weeks. One even had a shaved pussy. I began to wonder if using an electric shaver would be like using a vibrator. I nearly shot off on the spot. I think she bribes her mates with a bottle of wine, cheese and gossip. I often hear lots of girly giggles coming from inside. Girls will be girls! In fact she is down there now with a friend so I will have a few hours peace until the children come home from their friends houses.

My study though is ordered and sensible. I have everything in its place. Paper clips, paper, staples and neat piles of tax returns waiting to be completed. I get almost an orgasmic pleasure in doing tax returns. I play with the figures, massage them, build them up, squeeze them, rub and suck clean until I press the button and the computer goes into spasms until finally it is done. Sometimes I get so excited I sometimes masturbate while I watch the computer go into action.

All is right and in its place in my world. Well it was until Susan slipped it into our conversation the other night that she thought my performance; sexual that is, was just average.

I don't think I have been so deflated since the 1987 stock market crash. I didn't get an erection for six months afterward until the Hung Sang index rose by 5%. That's why I ended up in that strip bar the other night. Well ...it was her idea for me to research!

Research is easier said than done in this sort of thing. Anyway I thought I would do some more tax returns to cheer myself up and switched on the computer.

I completed a couple of returns, which helped my mood a little. I could even feel a twinge of excitement in my cock as I managed to secure a 3.56% increased tax return for one of my clients – she owes me something for that. I needed to check on a site I had used a few weeks ago. 'Yachts for tax dodgers' so I clicked on the Internet 'history'.

Well ...What was this ...I was amazed. Someone had been using the computer. I looked at a couple of the sites. Girls sucking girls: there were pictures of girls on their knees, tongues licking, noses buried into one another pussy. They were shaven – god how I would like Susan to do that! Who would have used my computer? The kids can't get past Net Nanny, well... not yet anyway.

It must have been that young trainee I have working for me part time. Susan has her own computer in her studio and never really comes in to my study. She says it has the sterile atmosphere of an operating theatre. Mmmmm... Dirty little kid using my computer, but I kept looking, instinctively looked around to see if anyone was watching. I was entranced.

Then a site with men and men. Men with penises in their mouths, in their bottoms and cum dripping down their faces. I'm not sure how I feel about men. It turns me on but it also disgusts me. Sometimes I think I would like to try it but once I have cum the idea is no longer appealing.

Next I discovered a site, Literotica.com, amongst the index was a wonderful selection of 'How To' I read about Blow Jobs for Dummies, Erogenous zones, What a Man Wants and A letter to his Wife, now that could be worth reading except it would take too long. Breaking the Rules of Sex and Marriage, here was advice both of us were needing, How to Eat Pussy Like a Champ ... Well at least I know how to do that well! Susan has never complained about my tongue. Well not yet anyway. Maybe she'll send an email to my office or put a note in my lunch box – 'Learn to eat pussy Brian!'

Then I found it. An adult Chat. I signed up. Using all the imagination I could muster I called myself BrianX. Well I thought it was original. I was amazed at what I read. For those of you who are unfamiliar to 'chats' there are rooms one can enter and 'talk' to other people. Except this was an adult chat space. So the rooms were called The Bedroom, Lounge, Bi Room and less than subtle names like the orgy, cocks in bums, black cocks and girls with girls. One was even called the golden shower room what ever that , and another the classroom.

I flicked from room to room. People were in all sorts of positions. Some rooms no one spoke. Others were engaged in what can only be described as cyber sex. A sort of bazaar game where sensuous imagination leads into acts of pure sexual indulgence.

I just watched, as people, who had never met and were seemingly in different parts of the world would be writing to each other and responding by saying

'I put your long, juicy cock into my mouth.'

'Your mouth eats my cock, I pump harder.'

'I play with my pussy while I eat your cock.'

'Your tits get bigger.'

'I feel your balls filling up, ready to explode.'

'My pussy is dripping, I'm ready to...'

'I thrust my cock deeper into your mouth, I begin to spasm.'

'I play with my pussy, faster and faster ready to cum...'

'I'm coming...'

'Me too...'

Then they hang up!

I was just about to finish when my name was highlighted. I was being invited to a private meeting. A PM. I was in shock! My heart beat; I looked around again perhaps looking for my conscience to appear over my shoulder. The coast was clear, Susan was still in her studio with her friend and the children had called to say they would be late.

I clicked...

'Hi BrianX'

What do I say? How do I reply?

'Hi, who are you?'

'I'm your Night Angel Brian X.'

I waited, not quite knowing what to do. Who was this person? Where was she? Could she see me?

Idle chat I thought may be the way to go.

'So what are you doing Night Angel?'

'I'm naked...and playing with my pussy.'

'Ah...'

'What would you like to do with me BrianX?'

I just blurted it out.. 'Fuck you.'

'Oh dear BrianX , you do have a problem don't you.'

'What?'

'Well... how to treat a woman.'

Oh God, here we go again. I meet a woman and ten seconds later she's saying the same thing as Susan.

'Well...?'

'My wife said the same thing.'

'I may be able to help you BrianX. After all I am an Angel.'

'How?'

'That's what Night Angels do BrianX. They make your fantasies come true.'

'Would you like me to help?'

'Oh Yes please.'

Corny answer I know , but I defy you to think of a better one.

'You must do as I say BrianX and soon your wife will be begging for more.'

'If you don't... I will stop. Think about it.'

'I have, I have.'

'Bye then'

'How will I find you again?'

But she was gone.

WOULD ANYONE LIKE TO ANSWER AS SUSAN?