The Literotica Xmas Bash

'No she's not my daughter.'

They were visibly disappointed. Though there were lots of lights on in the section's caravans and chalets, the room set aside for readings seemed deserted. The shrieks and laughter coming drifting through the night made it very clear that the action was elsewhere.

'You could pretend.' 'Fuck off.' 'No one in there.' 'Hasn't been all day.' 'There was that nice couple and their twins yesterday.' 'Leeds.' 'What?' 'They was from Leeds.' 'You get her number?' 'Nah.' 'Parents buggered off to the group sex arena.' 'Wouldn't take us.' 'Nice though.' 'Yeah.'

As we walked away Erica kept looking back to see if they were continuing their four-part harmony. They were. At least until we rounded the nearest corner.

It's confession time. The biggest near-disaster was my fault and no one else's. I got a call from Eric on the Saturday afternoon.

'Clyde just called. The cops are going to raid Sunnydene.' 'Clyde?' 'You know him, he's that sergeant who plays on my local's darts team. Clyde. Big bloke.'

The idea there was only one pub Eric was a regular in was bemusing. But if this Clyde was on the force then I suppose it had to be taken seriously.

'That piece you wrote for Murdoch.'

He sounded accusing.

'What about it?' 'Sky's been bigging it up. Trying to sell more papers. You know their cross-ownership scams.' 'And?' 'Half the Tories in Hampshire are up in arms. Someone's suggested the place is awash with EU citizens. That lunatic Brexit bloke, what's his name, forage, farrago? He wants the army called in. Says it's a national crisis.' 'When are they coming?' 'Dunno. As soon as the chief constable can get someone in London to shell out for the overtime, Says he's not wasting his budget on nonsense.' 'Could be about a fortnight then?' 'Doubt it. Some ex-minister has started a FundMe page.' 'Thanks Eric. Call Erica with any updates.'

I took the battery and SIM card out of my phone. The Murdochs ran their own dirty-tricks department for years. Said they disbanded it after they got nicked. I wouldn't trust them as far as I could throw them. I went to find Charles and Chuck. They were enjoying a threesome with a skinny girl with a lot of tattoos. She was a knock-out; they had camouflage underpants round their ankles.

'This is Sophie. Can't ask you to join us. She's got a uniform fetish. Just needs a Navy SEAL and she'll have fucked someone from every single branch of the US armed forces.' 'Impressive. Nice to meet you miss. I was in the Boy Scouts once.' 'Uh, uh.'

Sophie couldn't talk. Her mouth was full of Chuck's prick. Cynthia hadn't exaggerated the length. the young girl shook her head vigorously to indicate she wasn't including me in the party. I waited for Charles to stop fucking her and for Chuck to cum in her mouth. It took a while. I briefed them quickly on what I heard.

'They armed?'

I laughed.

'How many?' 'Doubt it'll be more than half a dozen. They'll never squeeze more money out of the chief.'

The two of them conferred while Sophie sat between them smiling contentedly and holding a huge phallus in each hand. I didn't understand a word they said apart fromperimeter and deployment. They thanked me for the intelligence and left after getting dressed. They were wearing black from head to toe. Sophie scuttled after them. She had found a taser in the army-style boots she was wearing and was begging to be allowed to go out to play with them.

I patrolled the site anxiously for the next few hours. I was devastated that I might have screwed things up. Crap-for-cash is the overriding principle of my job; it would be professional suicide to try and undo any of the damage I had done. But still, I liked the Literoticas and was having the time of my life. Beside that, if I found someone to have anal sex with, I'd only have the trannies and the Gay Lit lads left on my card. I knew fromEditors' Notes there weren't many who'd got anywhere near a full house. My competitive streak would be the death of me. I was conflicted dammit. It wasn't a comfortable feeling.

I did borrow Cynthia's lap top and write a couple of paragraphs about a successful police raid which had restored order and quiet to a relieved town. It was the least I could do to try and knock the story on the head. The editor later sent me a bottle of champagne and a fulsome letter of praise for my 'fearless professionalism in the face of an unruly mob".

I went down to the car park. Vanessa was there. She was carrying a walkie-talkie and keeping a worried eye on what was going on. There was a guy in full make-up offering rides in what looked like a very realistic squad car, but the only sign of conflict was at the gate. About two hundred people had turned up, mostly men, demanding to be let in to join the fun. The gatekeeper had been joined by a mate. They didn't seem to be having too many problems, but as I watched one of Chuck's men in black emerged from the shadows and tapped me on the shoulder. Talk about heart-attack-city.

'Hi John. Got your camera?' 'Of course.' 'Take a few shots would you? Make sure the flash is switched on.'

He was gone before I could ask him why, but it didn't take me long to figure out the reason for myself. They started dispersing almost immediately the first flash went off. I started calling out to them, asking them to smile, telling them I was from theGlobe and promising they'd be on the front page of next week's edition. In five minutes the road was deserted. The gate lads seemed a bit peeved with me. Vanessa joined me as I looked around the car park after the fun had finished.

"He left this for you. Said well done.'

She handed me a small fabric patch. It was lance corporal's stripe with a small insignia above it which looked as if it belonged to some obscure regiment. It's become one of my most treasured possessions, though at the time my only thought was whether I could trade it for a blow job from Sophie. She was a cracking lass.

Evening dragged into night. The longer time went on without the screams of sirens, the barking of police dogs or the smell of tear gas in the air, the more comfortable I became. I fell into conversation with Emily, perhaps the most beautiful woman I'd seen the whole weekend.

She was sitting, cross-legged on an upholstered stool at the very end of the fifty meter bar which ran down one side of the main entertainment centre. I'd gone in to have a beer, try and relax and perhaps bump into one of the security guys and find out what was going on. The non-stop nudie show was still going on. It was probably the thirty-sixth straight hour. I was impressed. Emily was wearing what looked like a tailored silk suit and pale blouse. She nodded OK when I asked if I could sit next to her.

We both watched the stage without talking. There was a well-organised tableau being performed. A bit like the ones they put on at the Windmill during the war when strippers weren't allowed to move. There were three or four girls getting bits of kit off in the dark and then posing behind fake windows when the lights went up. I was most impressed that they'd brought their own props. We smiled at each other as we politely applauded their final scene.

The conversation started naturally and flowed easily. She was a good listener and asked questions and made encouraging noises. I found myself opening up about everything. The whole story. From Julian's first instructions to my worry about the police. She laughed at the funny bits, tossed in one or two of her own anecdotes when I told her mine and patted my hand sympathetically when I talked about the cops. I found myself wondering what perfume she was wearing. And whether her perfect lipstick would smudge if I kissed her. And how the slim frame inside the well fitting clothes would feel beneath my hands.

We were interrupted by an overenthusiastic Erica who grabbed me when she found us and said she'd been searching for me everywhere. The last time I'd seen her she was going off to a girls-only first timers/lesbian sex mixer. Then, she had a look of trepidation. Now, her eyes were shining, she'd clearly lost her bra somewhere and she was scampering, almost puppy-like around us tugging at my sleeve and urging me to go with her. I introduced her to Emily who shrugged and suggested I'd better find out what was going on before the younger woman wet herself.

Annette and Angela waved at us as we passed them. They were down to their last fifty johnnies and Molly was about to unveil the first box of hers. It was a touching ceremony and I wanted to stay. Erica was insistent we move on, however.

'There.'

She was pointing at a scene at the back of the fetish room. There was a large crowd gathered, so I couldn't see clearly what was happening.

'Vanessa told me to get you.'

Erica was energetically clearing a path through the bodies. She was gripping my hand and marching with a determination I hadn't seen since she was hiding from Americans. I stopped dead when I saw what she had wanted me to see. Half-a-dozen scruffs, partially dressed in police uniforms were patrolling the enthusiastic crowd. They were threatening us with truncheons occasionally, but laughing along with everyone else. The uniforms were good. Very good. They had those little silver ID numbers on the lapels, realistic looking badges and Kevlar vests withPolice written on them which would have cost a fortune if you'd bought them on the black market. What gave them away was the footwear. All of them, even the men, were wearing high heels. Charles and Vanessa were watching the scene from the sidelines smiling.

Behind the cop cordon were six frames onto which bodies were lashed. I'd seen them used previously during a story session organised by the group sex team and the BDs. Two women and four men, all ball-gagged, were handcuffed to metal eyes screwed into the sturdy beams. They men were naked save for police helmets; the women still wore stockings and suspenders. All of them still had those belts which carry tear gas and tasers and who knows what else The light from the flashes which were going off constantly was almost blinding. I pushed my way over to Vanessa and her burly companion.

'What the fuck's going on? They'll kill you when you release them.' 'Don't think so.'

She was unemotional. I was gobsmacked. I thought I recognised the sergeant at the end. He was the biggest bastard in town. From the look on his face, he was ready to smash any face he could get his hands on. The two women, on the other hand, looked less hostile. Both were getting energetically licked out, one by a woman the other a man. Two guys were in the process of applying clamps to their nipples. Bonzo had crawled over to the nearest one and was sucking her big toe.

'They all volunteered. Said something about improving community-police relations. Our liaison team's got it all on tape.'

She nodded to some stools where four girls dressed like Parisian streetwalkers were enjoying the scene. I was going to say more when I was tapped on the shoulder. It was a couple from Georgia I had met at the pool. They'd told me it was their first trip outside the US. They were celebrating the husband's retirement.

'John. Remember us?' 'Elmer and Betty?'

The names came to me just in time.

'That's right. I told you he'd know us, honey.'

Betty slapped Elmer's arm playfully. Elmer turned to me.

'Would you mind taking a picture of the wife and me?' 'No problem.' 'We think your policemen are so wonderful. Cops back home would have killed three people by now. At least.'

Maybe there was a problem, I thought, but their enthusiasm got the better of me. Elmer handed me his camera. He was smiling and went to put his arm around the sergeant. He had turned a very strange colour, but at least he was no longer struggling. I'd need a decent exposure time and I'd hate for their souvenir to be blurred.

'That's right, honey. Take his dick in your mouth. Let's show him how we do it back home.'

Betty applied herself with some diligence to the aforementioned member. When she got him hard she turned and grinned. He was so small, it took a while for her to maintain a smile without the cock slipping out.

'That's right, honey. Smile.'

I ran off about ten shots = close-ups and group. They both came over and were effusive as we ran through them on the small screen.

'John. These are wonderful. You're a true professional. The folks back home will never believe this. Say Betty, why don't we go put them up on Facebook straight away. The kids'll be green with envy.'

I could swear I heard a groan, even over the noise of the party. They disappeared through the melee, but not before Betty made me promise again that the next time I was in Atlanta, I would definitely go visit. I smiled at their retreating backs, but was immediately button-holed by another couple. Word was getting round that there was a professional snapper in the crowd, and it was another hour before I could get away. I just shook my head when I caught Vanessa's eye from the door. She gave me a friendly wave. The man next to her saluted smartly.

It was Another two hours before I got back to the bar. Things were winding down. I think the announcement that more than fifteen thousand condoms had been used over a four-day period persuaded everyone that they'd done their bit. The Santas were pairing off with the remaining elves and heading for bed when I passed the grotto. Annette and Angela met me on their way to get a taxi back to town. They wanted to make sure Cecilia got the takings. They offered to take me with them. It was flattering, but they both confessed to relief when I refused. They complained of a certain vaginal soreness. That and only having had two hours sleep in the last forty-eight.

Emily smiled when I took my seat again. She laughed her musical laugh when I told her what had happened to the raid. I showed her the photos I had taken and she insisted I forward three of the best ones to her. We swapped stories of our highs and lows. Both of us vowed to post stories about our adventures on Literotica. I was trying hard to stifle my yawns. I realised I was tired out too. It was then she pushed a jar of Vaseline towards me across the shiny bar top.

'What's this?' 'For us.' 'Explain.' 'I've enjoyed your stories. You've made me laugh, humour's the one thing there's not enough of on the site. I was wondering how I could return the favour.'

I looked at the blue-topped jar.

'And?' 'You said you needed anal. For your score card?'

I looked at her with amazement. The tiredness drained out of me and I could feel my cock shaking off its lassitude, looking around and asking what's up. This cool, sophisticated woman was asking me to fuck her up the arse. I couldn't believe it.

'Wouldn't you rather I went down on you? We could use natural fluids.' 'Had you got back sooner, oral may have been a possibility. But sorry, lover, I have to leave soon. We'll have to be quick.'

She hopped off the stool and smoothed down her clothes. I almost beat her into the Ladies. I felt a bit bad being so eager. A small part of me was thinking I must be dreaming. I wanted to orgasm before I woke up. I hastily locked the nearest cubicle to the door and she held my face in her hands for a long time while staring into my eyes. She kissed me gently on the lips, took my jacket to hang behind the door and then stepped back. Her hands felt cold on my skin as she dropped my jeans and pants and caressed my dick into hardness. I have never had a johnnie put on with so little fuss and she had the Vaseline open and was greasing me up almost before I realised what was going on.

When she lowered her silk panties to the floor, stepped out of them and turned round I was ready. She hiked up her skirt and pulled her cheeks apart. I slid in slowly and we both sighed in unison. I'd like to say it was gentle and soft. That somehow the act cemented and brought into clear focus the things I had been feeling about her since we met. It didn't. It was fast, hard and almost brutal. She was as eager as I was. I was sure she had come when she reached back for my balls; I had told her about Annette. I shuddered my load into her and my legs felt so weak I had to sit down on toilet to recover. I didn't notice her put her knickers back on. By the time I opened my eyes for the first time she was leaning over me to kiss my nose.

'I'll always remember this.' 'Wait.' "I'm sorry. I can't. I've had a text from my husband. If I don't get to the car park, he's threatening to go without me.'

For the third time in a week I was left pondering my relationships with women.

There were a lot of tears the next morning. I got back to Sunnydene from home. I wanted to see the Americans go back to the airport. A lot of the Brits had already left; they'd read the small print and knew if they stayed too long they'd be charged for an extra day. Charles and Chuck checked that everyone who'd arrived was now about to leave. They finally made sure that every driver had someone next to them with satnav on their phone. This time the coaches were not doing a magical mystery tour.

It was rather moving to see tears in the eyes of all three of them as Cynthia hugged the two men. Promises were made for future meetings. I'd pay money to see what the States made of one of Bridlington's best. For myself, I concentrated on stopping them breaking my hand when they shook it a final time. It was when I fished in my pocket for a piece of paper to write their contact details on that I found my score card. There was a lipstick kiss on it. I recognised it as Emily's shade.

Later, having coffee with Cynthia after everyone had gone, I took it out again. I wanted her opinion on entering the challenge. The editors had hinted at prizes including a flight across the Atlantic for the overall champ. Beneath the kiss Emily had signed her name. She'd done the same things against the boxes in the Anal, Gay Lit and Transexual/crossdresser categories.

Cynth laughed, not in a mocking way; I had told her how much I'd liked Emily when I asked her to try and find her booking so I could find her again. She held my hand while I processed. Eventually, I could look her in the eye.

'God knows what I'm going to tell Eric. He'll move to Lancashire if he hears about this.'

EPILOGUE So what happened to the happy ending, I hear you ask. Jollies for the good guys, retribution for the bad. Well, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but life just ain't like that.

Julian returned from his holiday with a woman who Eric swore was distantly related to the Belgian royal family. He was really pissed off when he found Eric, our production manager and me still using his desk while we looked at the Literotica supplement (sponsored by Ken and Flo's Caff and Bistro). We'd sold out the paper despite doubling the print run. A queue of anxious buyers had blocked his passage back into the office.

Copies were selling for ten quid plus postage on EBay and a US distributor had ordered a hundred thousand copies for exclusive distribution rights overseas. We were trying to work out what was the most lucrative option.

He didn't stay pissed off for long. Her majesty decided whatever their future, it was not going to be in Bridlington. His uncle made the decision for him. When he realised the paper had made more money in the fortnight he wasn't there, than in the previous year when he was, they sacked him. Now, he's financial reporter on one of their tabloids in which no one reads the money page.

His last act as editor was to dismiss Clarissa. Erica had forgotten to tell us that she had called her to try and get her to say she was sick when in fact she was off to Cannes with a bloke who owned his own helicopter. They're still together, apparently. Well as together as you can be when one of you is behind bars on money laundering and tax evasion charges. She should have taken her mother's advice and stuck to boys who inherit their cash.