Ciana Rose's Erotic Stories

 

Lady Jane

Trilogy

Rod Stiffener

All Rights Reserved

 

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mf, bond

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I play bass in a jazz quartet, just for fun and we all have day jobs. Music is a hobby, and if I had to do it for a living then it would start to become a chore. We play at small clubs now and again, also weddings, friend's birthdays, charity fund-raisers, and so on. We try to appear in public no more than about once every two or three weeks.

Our sax player Mike lines up most of our gigs as he is a bit of a social animal with a wide circle of acquaintances. He and the keyboard player are both in their forties and quite experienced musicians. The drummer and I are mid-thirties and new to playing jazz.

Mike knew this lady called Jane, a divorcee, whose son was getting married. The lad's father had pots of money, and the bride was well connected, so it was going to be quite a society wedding. Two days before the main event, there was to be a garden party at the bride's parents place so that the two families could get to know each other. Sort of the high-society equivalent of dogs circling and sniffing each others' butts, I suppose.

I turned up on the day itself and helped set up the gear in one corner of the large landscaped garden under a small marquee. The house was set further back behind some trees, and another marquee formed the bar and headquarters for the finger food.

Jane came over to talk to Mike about the evening's program and to ask us what we wanted to drink. She was a tall, elegant woman with very straight and erect posture, in her mid-forties. She had that rare combination of slim figure yet big boobs. Almost Barbie-doll-like in proportions, though of course things were starting to sag a bit now and her breasts hung fairly low. But they were still hooters of considerable substance. She was immaculately turned out and extremely well manicured, with pageboy haircut. Unfortunately, she smokes, and the skin on her face was lined and a bit dry looking as a result.

She talked posh like a Sloane Ranger, but could swear like a trooper. Being already a bit tipsy, her talk with Mike about arrangements was interspersed with the odd "Fookin' ay!" and suchlike. Mike is the "sex symbol" of the group, actually he is like a little leprechaun with a big potbelly but an outrageous flirt and he does it with such humour that he gets away with it. If I said half of the things he says to ladies, I would be continually drenched from having drinks thrown in my face. But when he does it, chances are he will get lucky!

We were all set up, had done our sound-check, and now people were arriving. Old maiden aunt's, doddery uncles, but also bridesmaids and friends of the young couple. The bridesmaids (four of them!) were dressed in what I might term your "basic little black number," in other words skimpy mini-dresses that showed a lot of leg and a lot of cleavage. The bride was more demure, in long evening gown.

We started our set, playing more subdued "elevator" jazz to start off. Swingtime and bossa, like "Sweet Georgia Brown" or "Girl from Ipanema." Not to my taste as I like to get really intense with more of the funk-fusion and Miles Davis stuff, but we weren't there to scare the gentry and livestock.

Of course, everyone totally ignored us. They were way too cool and sophisticated to acknowledge that a live band was there playing just for them. And playing for free as a favour to the bride's mother. But the catering staff were enjoying it, at least they were the only ones giving any positive feedback. And Lady Jane, of course. She was hovering around to make sure that wine was flowing in our direction, and we were starting to get a bit loose.

 

At the end of the second set, Jane asked Mike "Are you all getting enough to eat and drink?"

"Yes" said Mike, "But no one has offered us any sex yet."

As ever the outrageous flirt, and Jane tittered.

Jane's elder brother was within earshot.

"Go and grope one of the bridesmaids," he suggested. "Surprising things might happen!"

"Yes, aren't they lovely!", says Mike, "but I prefer maturity and experience!" He gallantly pecked Jane on her cheek, then made a point of peering very obviously into her deep cleavage before standing back again.

"Very bloody likely!" says Jane, but smiling all the same.

For our third set we didn't care whether people liked what we played or not, as we were now fairly pissed and so were the audience. We were playing stuff like "Birdland" by Weather Report and funky R&B numbers like "Green Onions" and "Watermelon Man". The bar staff were grooving, meanwhile there were a few Hooray Henries and Henrietta's stumbling and falling into the undergrowth, while at least one matriarch went down flat on her back by the fountain and had to be carried up to the house. Nothing like a bit of alcohol to bring out peoples' true colours!

Time to pack up our gear, my favorite part of any gig. We badly needed some groupies able to carry speaker cabinets as well as give blowjobs. But the few groupies we had were not inclined to do either, so nothing for it but to lug the stuff ourselves. Mike and I were winding up electrical leads, of which there were a lot, some about forty feet long.

Jane tottered up to us. "Can I get you any more to drink?"

"No!" says Mike. "And look out for my saxes!"

Too late, her leg had bumped the tenor, which bumped into the alto, which was about to bump the clarinet when Mike managed to grab them and get them back upright.

"Ooh, sorry!" says Jane.

"Bad girl!" says Mike. "You should be severely disciplined!"

She giggled. "You wouldn't dare!"

Never say that to a bunch of inebriated musicians.

Mike grabbed her wrists and pinned them behind her back. Playing along, I got a microphone lead and quickly wrapped it around her slim arms and tied it off against the pole of the marquee. There, she wouldn't knock over any more instruments now!

I had expected her to struggle, or at least squeal a bit, but she didn't. She just went all limp and passive. It had been so easy to bind her up, that hardly anyone had noticed. It just looked like she was standing against the pole. But I noticed that her breathing was now uneven, in fact a bit ragged.

Mike was a bit disappointed by the seeming lack of reaction, as we had been doing this to stir her up for a bit of humour. So he tickled her, on the side of her ribs. She couldn't stop him, as she was unable to move her hands. But the tickling made her squirm around in an effort to avoid his invading fingertips. Her eyes were going round as saucers, and she let a high pitched moan escape from the back of her throat.

I said "And now, your punishment! You shall be spanked!" I raised my hand as if to land a slap on her rump, and without hesitating she turned and stuck out her derriere at me to receive the slap! Well, this was really getting into the spirit of it!

We concluded that she was playing along just to deny us the satisfaction of upsetting her. A bit like Brier Rabbit saying "Skin me alive, but pleeeaaze don't throw me into the bramble bush!" Well, that was no fun so I slackened the cord and she took her hands out.

"Really!" she slurred, bosom heaving, "You are too awful for words!"

"That's what all the girls say!" riposted Mike, but Jane had turned on her heel and gone.

By the time all the gear was packed, I had sobered up. Nothing like exercise in the cool night air to clear the head. And just as well, because I had a vanload of gear to drive away. Almost everybody had gone, just the caterers rounding up the last few stray glasses from the lawn and shrubbery.

I was opening my driver's door when I noticed Jane further down the drive, trying to get her keys into the door of her little car. It was an MGB-GT, one of those classic sports-coupes with just enough room inside for two people, a packet of sandwiches, and a change of underwear. She was not having much luck getting the door open, because it was dark and she was drunk.

I walked toward her.

"Everything alright?"

"Ah, it's my attacker!" she hissed.

"Not a good idea to be driving" I said to her.

"How the fookin' hell will I get home then?"

"I'll take you. Wait here while I park my van in the street."

When I got back she had succeeded in unlocking and was now in the passenger seat of the MG. I squeezed in behind the wheel and fired it up. Like most British cars of the sixties, it was pretty agricultural to drive and the suspension was as hard as rocks, but it had a satisfying rasp to the exhaust note as I pulled away from intersections. She had the window rolled down and was breathing deeply of the night air.

She didn't have much to say, apart from giving me the address and occasional directions to get there, also a few words about how lovely we had played that night.

We pulled up at her apartment block and parked in the basement garage.

"Thanks, you've been so kind. Will you come up for a minute?"

No conversation in the lift, she just watched the floor numbers roll by and I looked at her reflected rear in the wall mirror. A nice rear it was too. The years had been good to her. Either she exercised a lot, or she killed her appetite with regular ministrations of gin. Probably the latter.

Opening the apartment, she turned on a wall lamp and made for the liquor cabinet.

"Fancy a liqueur before you go?"

A Cointreau for me, and Drambuie for her.

She handed me my glass, then stood right in front of me as she sipped hers. Behind her hung a fairly erotic painting, very tasteful and artistic but nevertheless depicting a buxom woman playing with herself. She saw me glance at it.

"You like?"

Yes I did, and I said so.

"Are you an art lover?"

"No, just a lover."

"Well, there's more in the other rooms, if you're interested."

She led the way to the dining room (a couple intimately entwined, though it was "artistic" rather than "graphic") then a bedroom (two views of cunnilingus in progress, again very artistic).

"And here, in the master bedroom."

She opened the door to what was clearly her own bedroom, being the largest and looking most lived in. A large brass bedstead with railings at head and foot. Various items of clothing laying about, also knickers, and a few silk scarves.

The theme of these three paintings was Restraint. A nude sitting up with feet tied at the ankles. A nude wearing a blindfold. And a nude standing with hands tied to a post behind her back.

"What a coincidence!"

"Do you like that one?"

"More to the point, do you?"

"An impertinent question, but would I hang up pictures that I DON'T like?"

She stood looking at me. And I looking at her. She was studying me with the air of a chess player who has completed her move, and is waiting for me to make my move.

I should say at this point that I am a pretty consensual sort of a guy. I am into mutual pleasure, and I don't get pleasure from another's pain or humiliation. But here the lines were getting blurred. She had laid a trail for me from party to bedroom, and all the arrows said "Tie me up! I love it!"

But she wasn't going to spell it out loud. She wanted me to make the first move.

So I made it.

"Put down your glass."

She placed it on the dresser.

"Hands behind your back."

She turned away from me, and held her wrists together behind her. I grabbed a couple of the silk scarves and lashed her wrists firmly. She did nothing to resist.

There was a useful length of scarf left over, so I used the free ends to tie her wrists to the brass rail at the foot of her bed. She was still standing, facing me, and unable to use her hands or move away. Her shoulders were pulled well back by her bonds, so that her bosom stuck out at me even more prominently.

I stood in front of her, looked into her greeny-blue eyes, studied her aristocratic features . I touched her on the cheek with a fingertip. The skin was soft, and lined from age and smoking. She looked coolly back at me. Almost taunting me, daring me to make her lose that cool.

"Now I can do any fucking thing to you that I like," I told her, trying to rattle her and get into the spirit of what she seemed to turn her on.

"Like what?"

She was not easily rattled.

I put my hand on one of her large breasts, cupping it and feeling it through the fabric of her cocktail dress and bra.

"Like that!"

She gave me a look as if to say Oh puleez! Is that the best you can think of?

Well, I like to take my time, no need to rush. She wouldn't be going anywhere. Meanwhile I would let my fingers do some walking.

I spent a while feeling her tits, squeezing them through the bra, taking their weight in my hands, rubbing my fingers over the place where I expected her nipples to be. After a time, I was able to positively locate the nipples, when they became erect and could be felt as two hard buttons through the bra cups. Her breasts really were massive. In her younger days, she would have been the All-American dream, a tall skinny girl with big bust. They hung lower now, but there was still a lot to hang.

She was still fully dressed, and I was just going to grope her through her clothes at first. I put my hand on her crutch, lightly stroking her pubic mound through dress and underwear. She was still regarding me coolly, and I wanted to make her lose that cool somehow. What about a little finger-fuck?

"I am going to stick my finger up you," I announced. "How do you feel about that?"

She sniffed. "Please yourself."

"Thanks, I will."

I knelt and gathered up her skirts until they were bunched up around her waist. This revealed her long tanned legs, and loose-fitting French knickers. These were easily pulled aside to expose her sex, with its liberal thatch of brown curls. Holding the gusset out of the way with one hand, I lightly inserted the index finger of the other into the start of her groove. She looked down at me kneeling before her, my finger touching her softness in the most private place imaginable. She was unable to do anything except scream, yet even then she chose to stay silent.

I pushed my finger in further between her legs, which were not that far apart but enough to gain access to the entrance of her vagina. I could feel heat rising from there. Things definitely got warmer as I neared her insides, and my finger easily slipped past her soft and swollen opening. I changed the angle to push upward, deep as I could into the slick moistness of her passage. This lady was wet! Wet and very open. Absolutely no need for additional lubrication, she was already well lubed!

Holding my finger deep in her, I rotated my hand in a twisting motion, and looked up at her. By avoiding her clit, I was able to make sure that she would not be enjoying this too much yet. But she still seemed to be enjoying it too much for my liking, having her eyes closed and a look of intense concentration on her face. She started moving her groin against my finger in little slow fuck movements, trying to get it even deeper and get my knuckles bumping against her clit. She was using my finger to fuck herself, like a mini-dildo. Enough was enough.

I pulled very suddenly back out of her, and her eyes flew open with surprise.

"You're liking this too much. I will get nasty in a minute."

Again, that cool look.

I reached to the vee neckline of her dress, and grasped it with one hand on either side. Then I suddenly and violently tore the dress apart from bust to navel.

"Bastard! This dress cost a fortune!"

"Well, it's in the way," I answered, continuing to tear the fabric until I reached the bottom hemline. Her whole front was now exposed, showing French knickers and bra. Seeing some fingernail scissors on her dresser, I grabbed them and snipped at the bra between the cups, until it swung away and her breasts hung free. The French knickers were easier, I slid them down her long legs and she stepped out of them. I could now see her nakedness in a full frontal, from large dangly breasts with pink circles on the ends, to extremely hairy brown bush.

Time for me to get exposed. Except I only removed my trousers and briefs, leaving my shirt on. My cock was erect, and sprang up from under my shirt. She looked at it with interest.

I wondered whether I should make her suck it for me, but decided to save that for another time (assuming there would be one). Right now, I just wanted to ravage her. The thought of her being helpless to stop me made me feel like skipping all the usual preliminaries and just cutting right to the chase. Let's fuck this lady!

I stood right up against her, my face only an inch from hers, my cock brushing her lower belly. She could feel it coming at her. I kissed her full on the lips. She didn't respond, but just passively relaxed her mouth so my invading tongue could snake its way between her lips and into her mouth. I dry-humped my cock against her belly, just to make it a bit harder than it already was.

"Lady Jane, I'm going to fuck you now."

"Well, I can't stop you."

"That's right, you can't," I replied.

Normally screwing while standing is awkward, especially from the front. But Jane was tall enough that I only had to bend my knees slightly to get my cockhead between her thighs and butting at her entrance. I lined it up in the right direction, held her buttocks in my hands, then suddenly heaved while pulling her to me. She gasped at the shock of being so completely filled with absolutely no warning, but she was so wet that my dick went up easily. It was now encased in her hotness, not a deep penetration because her legs were not very far apart, but very pleasing because of the warmth and wetness of her.

I started thrusting, trying to get deeper up her. This was taking her off balance but her bonds kept her on her feet, plus I had her arse firmly gripped with both hands and was pulling her to me to meet each thrust. I buried my face in the side of her neck and sucked firmly at the soft skin, to give her a massive love bite. Try explaining that to the other old biddies down at the tennis club!

My thrusting was becoming very pleasant for me as my tempo increased, and the force of it was drawing all sorts of "ooofff!" and "Unnh!" noises from her. I felt myself starting to come. It was not going to be a big orgasm, because I usually need a lot of foreplay and oral sex before I can have a reeeaaallly big orgasm, but I was going to enjoy this one by pumping as hard as I could.

I started to shoot in her, and the thought crossed my mind that I should have found out if she were on the pill, or menopausal, or anything like that. Too late now! My jism was coming out in spurts, helped by huge thrusts that had her butt jammed up against the brass of the bedstead. It was lovely! The feeling of release after all that pent-up excitement, plus the extra turn-on of knowing that Lady Jane's insides seem to melt at the very idea of her hole being all mine for the taking.

I pulled my wilting cock out of her and hugged her to me, sticky cock-end pressed between our bellies. She hadn't come yet, but then I hadn't wanted her to. Time for that later. First, I better go and get my van of gear, otherwise it might not be still there in the morning.

"Lets make you a bit more comfortable."

I untied her from the bed (but not her wrists) and led her around so that she could lie down on it. I retied her hands to the bed head, and tied her feet to the railing at the other end. I checked everything to make sure she couldn't get free.

"Are you having fun yet?" I asked her.

"Yes. Carry on. I badly need to come."

"Sorry, gotta go," I said, pulling my pants back on. "I'll be back in a couple of hours. Don't go away!"

On my way out I picked up her apartment keys and locked the door behind me. Out on the street, I hailed a cab and told the driver where the van was parked.

As we drove, I kept thinking about Lady Jane, tied helpless to her bed waiting for me to return, her cunt already sticky with my semen, wanting to come but unable to do it herself, and wondering what was going to happen next.

 

Part II

 

I paid off the cab driver and hopped into my van. I had to tell Mike about this - how the ice queen definitely had another side to her. It was information he would relish, and maybe even act upon. Getting my cell phone out of the glove box, I dialed him up.

"H'lo" he answered.

"Mike, you doing anything at the moment?"

"About to hit the sack. Why?"

"What did you think of Jane tonight?"

"Interesting situation we got her into there. She didn't seem to be too averse to it, either."

"Do you fancy her, then?"

"She's a lady I've wanted to bonk for years, but she's a stuck-up tart, millionaires-only need apply."

"Tonight could be your lucky night. As it happens, she is not at all averse to it."

"What are you talking about?"

"Tie her up, and all thoughts of your bank balance just seem to go right out of her head!"

"No shit! Where is she now?"

"At her place. Are you interested?"

"Meet you outside."

Mike was already parked when I got there. He looked puzzled at me pulling up in the van, no doubt expecting me to emerge from the building itself.

"Where's Jane then?"

"Inside, still detained."

We headed on up in the lift.

"Is she blindfolded?" Mike wanted to know.

"No."

""Could it be managed? I mean, I move in the same social circles as her, so there could be repercussions. I want to stay anonymous if possible."

"What are yer?" I teased, "Man or mouse?"

"Anyway," I said, "I am not into rape. Sure, she likes being tied up, but I will ask her if she wants a mystery fuck and if not, then you can piss off home again."

"Fair enough," he said, almost tripping over his hard-on.

I unlocked the door of the apartment.

"Wait in the passage," I told Mike, and I went to the bedroom.

She was still there, and had obviously been trying to get free as the bedding was all rumpled up. There was also a big damp patch on the remnants of her gown and on the sheets, spreading out to either side of her hips.

"Naughty girl, you've wet the bed!"

"I couldn't hang on," she said, "and I couldn't get to the loo."

"You shouldn't piss without my permission. For that, I am going to blindfold you."

Another brightly-coloured silk scarf got used to tightly wrap around her head, completely blocking her vision.

I sat on the edge of her bed, and toyed idly with the tangled brown thatch on her mound. She was extremely hairy down there, thick like a rug.

"Jane, have you ever been rooted by two men at once?"

"Yes." She said.

Wow! But I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised. What Jane wants, Jane gets.

"Did you like it?"

"Yes, very much."

"Would you like two of us to root you now?"

"Who is the other chap?"

"It is someone you know, but he prefers to remain anonymous."

"Oh, shit ."

"But imagine that!" I cajoled. "A mystery cock inside you, someone you know you will meet up with regularly. Now you'll have to be much nicer to the men you know, not be such a bitch. How could you possibly be bitchy to someone who has seen you get so undignified?"

I let her mull that over as my hand stroked her cunt. Her breathing had quickened and her chest was heaving a bit.

"Shall we proceed?"

She nodded her assent.

I beckoned Mike into the room, and he stood there feasting his eyes on her stretched out form, taking in the sight of her with hands and feet bound to the bed, blindfolded, dress ripped down the front from top to bottom, her big tits and hairy fanny exposed.

His cock was bulging at the front of his trousers, and as I started to get my gear off again he did the same. Mike looked comical when naked, with his potbelly and skinny legs. Some people definitely look better with their clothes on, and make love better with the lights off.

I sat again and kept touching Jane's crotch, teasing her with light fingering. Mike went to her side and grabbed a big floppy tit, lifting and pulling it to his mouth. He latched hungrily onto the nipple, holding the massive breast with both hands like a baby with a bottle. Even with both hands there was flesh to spare, spilling over his double grip. Jane turned her head this way and that, but couldn't see who it was.

I wonder if you have to be a titty lover to be a good saxophone player. It reminded me of the line from the "Commitments" movie, where trumpeter Joey "The Lips" was explaining correct embouchure to his sax- playing sidekick by saying "Imagine that you are sucking on Gina Lollobrigida's nipple."

Anyway, I left him to it and moved to the foot of the bed. I parted her legs as much as her bonds would allow, so I could gaze up at her gash. It was pretty well concealed by her generous bush when her legs were together, but opened like a carpetbag when her legs were spread. She had pubic hair running down her inner thighs as well as on her mound, and presumably was not accustomed to bathing in a bikini. Or maybe she was? I wouldn't mind getting a public eyeful of such lush pussy hair, should I see her at the beach!

Moving up, I got closer to see more clearly, and also got a whiff of the urine she had passed earlier, along with the smell of my stale semen. I didn't care, wasn't going to let some extraneous body fluids put me off playing with such a delicious orifice. I started licking her inner thighs, running my tongue over the cellulite near her buttocks, edging in closer. She was trying to get her legs wider apart to admit me to the place she longed to have stimulated. Meanwhile Mike had grabbed the other tit and was slurping away on it enthusiastically. The other boob lay out flat, the nipple wet and glistening with saliva, and somewhat erect.

I was toying now with her hairy outer lips, and she was straining this way and that to try and get her clit onto my tongue. I avoided it, preferring instead to get lots of my own saliva wetting her around her entrance lower down. I just teased and toyed, not getting too carried away. I wanted her to cum against my prick, not my tongue.

Mike had got up on his knees and was nudging the edge of her mouth with the end of his cock. Despite the blindfold she knew exactly what was coming, and opened to admit him, sealing its circumference with her lips. He put two pillows under her head to raise it so she could more comfortably bob up and down along his length. He began thrusting gently into her mouth, and, looking at me, gave a "thumbs-up" gesture.

I got up on my own knees, keeping my body upright, and pressed my cockhead against her entrance. It slipped in easily, but the angle was difficult with her legs so close together and I could not go deep. Jane bounced her hips on the bed to try and get more of me up her, seeming to enjoy the feelings of having a cock in her mouth and another in her twat. But it was awkward for me so I withdrew.

"Give me a turn at that" I told Mike. He couldn't argue, as he dare not speak in Jane's presence for fear of being recognized. We swapped places, but this time I rolled Jane onto her stomach, twisting her ties in the process. I got my cock into her mouth and she held it, sucking gently. Her ample bosom was squashed out from her undersides and I could reach down and play with most of the left one, digging my fingers into its spongy tissue.

Mike slapped his hands down onto her buttocks, making an audible "smack!", then parted her arse cheeks to see what was in between. He rummaged around with a finger, testing the openings that came to hand and generally having a good fiddle with her genitals. Then he grasped his cock and got ready to fuck her. First, two pillows underneath to raise her bum up a bit. Then he pressed his advantage, heaving to get it in and pulling on her hips to keep himself there. The bed started bouncing wildly, and I did not have to make much movement to get my cock sliding nicely in and out of Jane's red-lipsticked mouth. She maintained a suction that was most pleasant indeed. Mike's potbelly obscured any view I might have had of his thrusting cock, meanwhile he was starting to get a bit red about the face.

We kept this up for about five or ten minutes, me enjoying the sight and feeling of having my dick gently suckled by this middle-aged patrician lady, and Mike huffing and puffing as he rammed into her from behind. He didn't want to come yet though, he had a couple more tricks up his sleeve.

He got off and rolled Jane onto her side, getting alongside her and trying a frontal approach once more. Lifting up her thigh, he re-inserted his dick then closed her legs again so that her thighs were clamping him as he thrust into her hairy pie. He kissed her on the mouth, and immediately her tongue was snaking its way around his.

I pulled away the remains of her sodden gown to make her arse bare again, and got along side her from the rear. I held my cock and ran its head up and down her arse crack a few times, then nestled it in the dimple of her anus.

She broke off her kiss and said "You better use some lubricant. In the drawer of the bedside table."

I got up and pulled the drawer open. Among other interesting items, there was a dildo, a vibrator, a set of handcuffs, birth control pills, and a tube of KY. Well, well, well! Jane must have been in the Scouts; it seems she is always prepared!

I grabbed the KY and resumed my position beside her. Slopping some on my hand, I greased up her rear, poking a finger through her tight sphincter to get some up inside her. She winced, which I only just detected due to the rocking she was getting from Mike banging away in front.

Slopping more onto my prick, I pulled her topmost buttock upward to open her crack and placed myself against her brown ringpiece once more. Even with the lube, there was stiff resistance, and I had to press firmly to gain an opening. Jane broke off her kiss with Mike and rolled her head back, mouth open in a silent scream.

My head was in, but Christ it was tight! I waited for her bum to relax a bit more, holding still so as not to provoke further tightening of her sphincter. Mike wasn't helping much, with all his humping and bumping from the other side.

Feeling things slacken fractionally, I pressed again and this time I broke through. My shaft was about half buried in her arse, tightly gripped by the sphincter but with the head through into her inner slackness. Within her, I could feel the movement of Mike's prick in her other passage. Occasionally his balls brushed against mine as he thrust.

Arses get looser the further up you go, so I pulled back until my slow strokes brought my cockhead back to her ringpiece then went back in past it. She was getting used to having me there now, and was starting to freak out a bit at the sensations of our double penetration of her. She had one leg held up as high as her bonds would allow, so that she could to get more of us unto her.

This was all very pleasant for the three of us, and we kept at it for another few minutes. But it didn't allow enough freedom of movement to bring us to climax, which both Mike and Jane were now wanting quite desperately. Some good old-fashioned missionary- style banging was called for.

I pulled out again, actually was virtually squirted out by the tightness of Jane's anus. I got up and meanwhile Mike rolled her onto her back again. I unlashed her feet and the instant they were free, she pulled them back with knees bent and spread her thighs as wide as they would go. Mike's bouncing bum was a blur as he headed into the home straight, and Jane's hips thrashed and heaved as she got him to bang against the right spot. She was being driven right into the bed by his physical exertions, which had him huffing and in a lather of sweat.

Jane cried out, "Oh fuck meeeeeeeeeeeee!"

A pretty superfluous remark, I thought, but it was entertaining to see her facial contortions, the straining against her bonds and the heaving of her tits as she reached a massive orgasm. Mike's grunting noises and jerky hip movements showed that he was not far behind her, then they both kind of collapsed against the mattress as though they had just crossed the finish line of a running race.

Which was all very well for them, but I still had an erection like a flagpole. I nipped quickly into the ensuite bathroom and like a good boy I considerately washed my prick, then went back to see what orifice was available. Mike was sitting up and getting his breath back. Jane was lying in a sexual stupor with legs still widespread. I could see her opened gash amidst its forest of pubic hair, and greyish-white cum leaking from its pick folds. Lets fill her up some more!

I mounted her and my prick practically fell inside, she was so open and loose. It was much easier now that her legs were untied, as I could bury myself to the hilt and feel her cervix tickling the underside of my cockhead. It was pretty sloppy in there, she'd already had two loads dumped in her within the last hour and she was almost awash.

It took hard thrusting on my part to generate enough sensation before I could interest my balls in gushing forth a second time. It is not as easy to ejaculate twice within an hour as some storytellers would have us believe. The second one takes more work and is usually not as satisfying as the first. I would much rather delay the first one for as long as possible, until my balls are practically boiling over.

Jane herself was by now pretty unresponsive, lying there passively and just letting me use her for my own pleasure. And that was nice. The thought of banging a box that has just been "used" has been an old fantasy of mine. So it took more pumping than usual and left my prick hurting a bit, but soon I had spoofed into her a second time and made her insides even sloppier.

I got up, and found Mike was fully dressed again. He still said nothing, indeed was unable to or his identity would be revealed. He gave me a cheery wave and headed out of the apartment, locking the door behind him. What a sensitive and caring lover! The minute he has got his jollies, he rushes off to his own bed to get a good night's sleep!

I undid the blindfold, but she didn't even open her eyes.

"Has he gone?" she asked in a whisper.

"Yes, you can look now."

I untied her hands, and she rolled onto her side facing away from me. I killed the light and got on the bed beside her, taking her into my arms and fitting in behind her so that we were lying like two spoons. My hand reached over her so that my hand was buried between her voluminous soft boobs, while my flaccid prick nestled against her arse crack, which felt moist and sticky.

"Did you enjoy that?" I asked.

"Mmmmm ..." she said, already drifting off to sleep.

"Well, Lady Jane," I said to myself, "what a discovery you've turned out to be. To look at you, I would never have thought it!"

 

Part III

 

A few weeks had passed since Mike and I had our threesome with Lady Jane, during which she submitted to being tied to the bed by her wrists and ankles. She appeared to love every minute of it. Of course she would never have said so out loud, but I think by now I can tell when a woman is aroused. And on that occasion, she was extremely aroused.

We bumped into each other again in town. I had gone into a large and upmarket department store, one that had pretensions of being a local equivalent of Harrods in London. How like Jane to shop here!

I saw her before she saw me. She wore a proper-looking blue skirt and white blouse, and I could see the outline of a sturdy bra cradling her large tits. It looked like she'd just had her hair done. Probably tinted too, as there was no sign of any grey, yet I knew for a fact that she had a few grey hairs. On her pussy, at least.

I said "Hello!" and she barely deigned to recognize me, giving me a very patrician and reserved response. I felt I deserved better considering I was a person she had permitted to fuck her in the arse recently.

"Doing some shopping?" I asked superfluously, as she was already holding some designer-logo'd plastic bags.

"Oh, a bit of this and that," she said, looking past me to smile at some other middle-aged ladies. Probably members of her tennis club, or something like that.

She was starting to irritate me again with her stuck-up attitude. But dislike and physical attraction are not necessarily mutually exclusive. Not when a person as hateful as her has tits as marvelous as hers.

I began to wonder how I could get her into another compromising position, like we did with her before. Teach her a lesson, one that she would no doubt enjoy too much anyway. But it wouldn't be easy. I could hardly go and tie her to the nearest lamppost. I am not an exhibitionist, as my fear of getting caught outweighs any thrill I might get from sex in public. To me, the thrill is doing it *without* getting caught.

"Let's go for a coffee." I said.

"Not today, I've a lot to do."

But I cut her off.

"I'm not asking, I'm telling."

She detected a harder edge to my voice, and didn't protest when I took her arm and led her to the store's coffee shop.

It was cavernous and dimly lit even in daytime. The ceiling was painted black and the walls dark green, with copper sculptures of fantastic-looking insects decorating the walls. Object-d'art scattered about. A place for arty-farty people to have private téte-a-téte in intimate little nooks and booths. Perfect!

We ordered coffee and a slice each of their justifiably-famous ginger crunch, then settled into a corner table in the gloom near the back. Our chairs were angled on pretty much the same side of the table, so we could both face out into the room.

I struck up some conversation, while trying to think what I could do with her next.

"Figured out yet who it was that helped me ravish you the other day?"

"Haven't the foggiest, but whoever it was, they weren't all that well hung." She said with a sniff.

Three other middle-aged ladies took a table about twenty feet away, and waved to Jane as they sat.

"Someone you know?"

"We do the odd bit of charity work together."

Hmmm ... an idea was forming in my brain.

"Jane, tell me honestly. Do you enjoy straight sex, or do you always have to be tied up all the time?"

"I don't discuss my sex life, though I am more than happy to discuss the sex lives of other people."

"But I've never seen a woman get so hot as you are when under some kind of restraint!"

"That's my business. You are only required to fuck me, you don't have to understand me."

"Fair enough. Are you ready for another game, then?"

"When?"

"Right now. Right here."

"Absolutely not. Those people know me."

My hand reached for her leg under the long tablecloth, and rested on her knee beside the hem of her skirt. No one else could see. We were in plain view of the three biddies, plus two other couples and a man in a business suit by himself to our left. But the generously sized tablecloth kept us hidden from midriff downwards.

My hand went slowly under the hem of the skirt and began to slide it upward, baring her thighs. She grabbed my hand and tried to pull it away.

"We'll make a scene!" she hissed under her breath.

"Only you can make a scene, by trying to stop me." I replied. "If you just keep cool, no one will even notice us."

My hand swept more of her skirt up until it was bunched over her crotch.

She had been check-mated, and was starting to realize it. If she protested or struggled, the others would see and would report it to the rest of her social circle. That would be intolerable, so she had to keep still and let my invading fingers go where they will.

And this was probably new to her. This was restraint, but not by any physical means. She was being restrained by her own social mores. She was my prisoner as surely as if I had tied her up, but she was having to do her own restraining this time. A self- inflicted kind of bondage, with invisible ties.

Meanwhile, my fingertips had made the discovery that, as usual, she was wearing French knickers. Oh good! Plenty of room in which to move. Going up one leg of the knickers, I was soon entangled in her luxuriant pubic hair, which I proceeded to tease and twirl.

Needing something to do rather than sit there like a tailor's dummy, she got out a cigarette and lit up, slowly and deliberately. Personally I hate cigarette smoke but this time I was willing to make an exception, especially as she would purse her lips on taking each drag, like she was sucking on a little cock. Pure '40's film noir, and she was concentrating very hard on staying cool and poker-faced as my hand burrowed further into her snatch beneath the tablecloth.

She started to make small talk, to keep up the appearance that this was, after all, two people socializing. It would look odd if our conversation stopped altogether, so she commented on the people opposite, how so and so really didn't look good with her hair like that, how such and such was mutton-dressed-as-lamb by wearing that outfit, and the other one was a bitch anyway and no one else could stand her but for the fact her husband was the General Manager of thing-ummy-jig. But she was rambling and unfocused as my fingertip parted the forest of cunt hairs about her entrance and felt the first hot flow of her internal fluids issuing forth.

I got a finger well up inside her vagina, but the angle was no good for getting two in. Never mind, this was having the desired effect on her. I was using the finger that penetrated her as a pivot to swivel my hand in such a way that her clit was being brushed this way and that. Her insides were very swampy by now, and she opened her legs wider to get more of me in.

Then she froze.

"He can see us!"

"Who?" I said, careful not to look away from her suddenly.

"The man in the suit."

Sure enough, the fellow in the business suit was regarding us over his cup of coffee, looking intently at the tablecloth that was supposed to be concealing our activity. The old biddies definitely couldn't see, but the tablecloth was off-centre. On his side, it didn't fall far enough to provide adequate cover, and when she parted her legs, he could now glimpse her pale thighs and my hand churning away at her crotch.

I didn't break stride, and simply carried on playing with her pussy as if nothing could be more natural. I looked at him and he winked at me over his coffee cup.

Jane coolly took another drag on her cigarette and looked him straight back in the eye. Her only adjustment to our game was to part her legs even wider. I frigged her a bit more vigorously, with no fear of hurting her because she was really wet and sloppy now. Just had to keep my movements below the table, but anyway the biddies were getting up to leave now.

One of them came across to talk to Jane, so I had to bring movement to a standstill. Jane almost whimpered at the sudden loss of sensation, but had to collect herself because she was being spoken to.

"Hallo Jane! Will we be seeing you at the committee meeting this Thursday?

Jane's mind was probably racing. Meeting? What meeting? Who gives a fuck about any meeting?

But she said politely "Sure will, Marjorie. See you there!"

Thankfully, the lady turned to join her companions who were headed to the exit.

I picked up where I left off, getting my fingers deep into her and really hitting her on the button. She looked back into the eyes of the gentleman opposite, and grabbed the edge of the table for support as she started coming and coming and coming. The noise was kept to a minimum, just long pauses between each sharply drawn breath, but her cigarette had fallen and was burning a hole in the tablecloth. Her cunt muscles were wringing at my finger, and her eyes bored into those of the man opposite.

She slumped back, and I withdrew my hand. The businessman raised his cup in a silent salute, then drained it in a single gulp, as if drinking a toast.

Well, that was Chapter One concluded as far as Jane was concerned. But I was now as horny as hell, and the other chap would have to be a Trappist Monk to be unaffected by what he had just witnessed. I got up.

"Get your things. We're going out to the carpark."

Still in a mild state of sexual intoxication, she got up willingly. I nodded for the other chap to follow us.

We were already on the ground floor, so the parking basement was only a single flight of stairs below us. Its bunker-like concrete was a stark contrast to the plush surroundings of the department store.

I led Jane to the very end where a van was parked. This would do nicely! We would be out of sight, but not out of sound. The chances of discovery were real, but tolerable.

We stood between the van and the end wall. I grabbed one of her big tits and manhandled it, until the besuited gentleman had joined us. He was forties, paunchy and balding, but presumably his prick still thought he was only sixteen or he wouldn't have followed us.

I kept the small talk to a minimum.

"Give me your tie."

He unknotted it and handed it to me.

I turned Jane around to face the van, and used the tie to lash her hands to the wing mirror of the driver's door. This left her bending forward slightly with her bum sticking out. It was an expensive tie, but the guy did not protest at it being employed in this fashion.

I opened my wallet and handed him a condom.

"You first," I told him. "If anyone comes, we run for it and just leave her there."

He needed no further encouragement. I squatted out of view and watched as he hiked her skirt up above her hips and slid her French knickers down until they puddled on the dirty cement at her feet. Her bum was now bare, big globes with dimpled cellulite along the bottom curve of each buttock, long legs running down and feet spaced apart. He unzipped and took out a fat, stubby erect penis, pulling enough of it through his fly to penetrate her with it.

He rolled on the condom and got behind her, pressing his besuited crutch against her butt, fiddling around with his hand to get his prick aimed in the right place. Then he was away, humping and bumping, grabbing her hips to stop her bouncing away from him. I wished I had a camera to permanently record the sight of her, lashed to the van, skirt up and knickers down, while this total stranger banged her rear frantically like a dog mounting a bitch on heat.

It was a truly disgusting, degrading spectacle, one which I now knew excited her more than anything else. I was starting to think this woman had a problem. But hey! If she did, then I was a part of the problem. What's the harm as long as it is consensual?

The stranger spoofed with vigour. We could tell that these were the vinegar strokes by his desperate motions and the expression on his face. It probably wasn't all that great for Jane, because he had been very quick, and anyway she had already come. Still, even after coming, it seems she just likes to be used. And used. And used. An archetypal slut, such a contrast to her patrician demeanor on all other occasions.

He had finished, and wasted no time divesting himself of the condom and throwing it to the ground. Splat! A quick, "Have a nice day," and he was outta there, his business with us was done. He didn't even stop to ask for his necktie back.

My turn. And I was more interested in her top half, partly because in the coffee shop this was not possible, but mainly because she has huge saggy tits and I just love boobs like that.

I got her to squat and turn around, so that she was leaning back against the side of the van with her arms stretched up above her head to the mirror bracket. Car doors slammed not far from us, and tyres screeched as someone left their park. I crouched and unbuttoned her blouse enough to get my hands in, slip her bra straps down and lift her jugs up out over the top of her bra cups. I fondled, licked and sucked, holding each spongy pillow of flesh in a two-handed grip while I nibbled on their stiff little teats.

But we couldn't do this all day. I stood and unzipped, getting my cock out into the breeze and lining it up with her mouth. She gulped it in and started bobbing her head up and down on it, giving tight little sucks on each out-stroke. This was no teasing. This was designed to make me come in double-quick time.

And it was working, too. I was in seventh heaven. Jane was a strikingly handsome woman with good bone structure, and one could easily imagine what she would have looked like before aging and smoking began to take its toll. She still looked good to me, with her lips wrapped around my cock and aristocratic features composed into an expression of pure slutty horniness. She knew how to suck a cock, too!

The sight of my cock in her mouth, her naked tits spilling out of her blouse, and the liquid-velvet sensations of her sucking were enough to get me close to spilling my seed in about four minutes flat. My knees began to tremble and I felt the beginning of that cosmic rush, so hard to express in words, the moment when a fellow doesn't care what orifice he is in, he just wants to get deeper up it.

But coming in her mouth would have been too easy. I quickly pulled out and got lower, shoving my dick into her cleavage and pulling her breasts around it as I started to shoot my load. I humped her tits, lubricated by my own sperm, until my cock started to shrink and go rubbery.

Pulling back, I could see that I had made a mess. The first spurt had hit her on the chin and dribbled down her throat. Droplets of cum clung to the gold chain around her neck. The rest had got squished all over her cleavage and upper slopes of her tits, making translucent damp patches on her white blouse in several places.

I stood her up without untying her, and put her clothes back into place myself. She would have to ditch the French knickers, they were all filthy from being on the cement all this time. We could hear voices of shoppers getting into a car not far away, but so far, no one had come to claim the van she was tied up to. Just as well.

By buttoning up her blouse for her, I was able to ensure that sperm was still visible at her throat and got even more rubbed in to her blouse. It would be obvious to anyone who looked at her that she had been in an "accident." I didn't know where she had parked her little MG sports coupe, but I hoped for her sake that it was not far.

I stood close and put my arms around her to untie her bonds, taking the opportunity to kiss her full on the lips and slip in some tongue. God, I hate the taste of smokers! I wished I had spoofed in her mouth after all, since the taste of my own sperm would have been much preferable.

Whoever eventually came to collect their van was going to find beside it a very rumpled necktie, a filthy pair of French knickers, and a soiled condom. I wondered what they would make of it.

We walked in silence back to the stairs and emerged into the department store lobby. She seemed oblivious to the traces of pecker-snot at her throat and on her blouse. Being pantiless was not such a problem for her, as her skirt was fairly conservative in its length.

"Bye, Jane," I said in farewell. "It has been wonderful meeting you again."

"Not bad" she said as she turned to go.  "Not bad at all."

 

 

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