Nailing Neely Jordan - Part 5b

Apologies for the tease. Here's the second half of the chapter.

“Hey Lord – thanks. Thanks for Danny – getting to know him a little. Finding out he’s not the demon everyone thinks. It’s good to know I’m not the only one who’s ever felt this. Just sorry he went the direction he did after… after it all happened. Wish he’d stayed… a bit more orthodox. Not decided to give in so completely. Not that I blame him. I so don’t blame him. And not that I’m saying he did the right thing either. But… I mean… do you blame him? Has he really done anything that terrible? Okay, in the church and all that, but… church, car, bedroom… it’s the act, not the place, and … Has he really sinned so badly? He seems really together, but… I could still see the hurt there. No one should be made to feel like that just because they couldn’t live up to…

“I know, I know, I’m justifying again. Using him when I’m really thinking of me. I won’t go there. I won’t. I promise. There, you have it. Firm promise. I’m not going there with Ray. Not that I was intending to. But then you know that, right?”

Neely’s wrangle with her Maker, following the Danny-chat, was precursor to another internal debate, one which she did not form into words quite so clearly. The cunning snare in which the ex-Youth Pastor had been trapped she must avoid, but did that mean she should do violence to hers and her Ray’s emotions by breaking off their relationship? Did that mean string him out in endless frustration when maybe she could… help him out a little? Her situation was very far from the one which had embroiled Danny, leaving him bound and at the mercy of two sex-predators. She only had her respectful boy to deal with. So if she could turn around his weekend plan, make it safer for herself, maybe she could reward him a little for his longsuffering. Not to mention indulge herself. Better than running totally mad with longing.

This line of thinking she developed over several days. Ideas could not help but occur to her during her battery-operated experimentation on her clitoris. There would be wild, unrestrained fantasies of mutual orgasmic explosion or of penetration. Her own imagined coupling with Ray would be supplemented with images of the fictional Sapphire and her many lovers, the all-too-real Jonas and Leona, the conflicted Danny with one of his devilish tormentors in a back-room at the church. Quite the erotic kaleidoscope to accompany her fevered masturbation. Quite the source of sensual inspiration. Then she would tone down her plans afterwards, once she had shuddered to exhausted stillness on her bed, making them more manageable for her hurting conscience.

She was not entirely sure of her scheme’s fine details, in truth she scarcely dared work them out. A dozen times she convinced herself it was not a scheme at all, just idle fantasizing from which she could repent in her prayer-time. But she still arrived at her mid-week picnic date armed with a clear suggestion for Ray.

“That idea you had about the massage…” she embarked, as they lay together on a blanket, staring at scattered cloud on a blue sky. The distant shouts of playing infants echoed above them from across Clifton Downs.

“You on for it?” he asked lightly, stroking her hair.

“Mmm-hmmm, but I’m swapping it around.” Her heart stepped up its pace as said it. She felt terribly daring, even slightly wanton, in broaching the idea. “You can come around to mine. And you’re not massaging me.”

“I’m not?” There was just a hint of surprise in his leisurely tone.

“No – I’m going to do you.” Oops – cringe. “Massage you I mean.”

“I know that’s what you mean,” he said, clearly amused. There was a slight pause. “You’re absolutely sure we’re not going to do each other? Massage, I mean.”

Neely’s whole body lit up with desire for a brief moment; she allowed the sensation to fade before she spoke again. “No.” There was mock-primness in her response. “Strict hands-off policy for you, Mister. Saturday night you’re in my hands. We can spread out in the living-room. Get comfy.” Gosh – for a moment it sounded like she was a proper seductress.

“Jasmin not going to be around then?” he inquired.

“No – I’ve already hinted you might be visiting. She said she’d make herself scarce. Was really insistent that we have the place to ourselves.”

“In that case,” he said lazily, “I’ll look forward to it.”

Neely wondered what he thought she had in mind. She didn’t even have the answer to that herself.

* * * *

Sapphire knelt like a good naked girl before the two quivering and manly fuck-poles. She reached out to caress the throbbing erections in both her palms and…

“Oh my Lord…” This was foolish, so foolish… To be picking up Odyssey when she knew Ray was already on his way. Since the picnic she had been panicking, downgrading the vague eroticism of her boyfriend’s forthcoming treat to something less scary. She had spent all that day – make that the entire three just gone – telling herself it was ‘a back-rub, just a stupid back-rub’, never more strongly than when she was seated going through notes for the following evening’s Sexual Ethics Workshop. Which trapped her between her two competing sources of guilt. That of compromising her own sexual purity and that of subjecting her boyfriend to what was ultimately just one more pretty piece of teasing. So much for rewarding her poor love. Dress cute and sexy, provide his upper body some lingering manual attention, then send him away to work off his frustrations with his own right hand, because he couldn’t do so with her.

The badness of the thought and the wicked beauty of the image it invoked – how she’d love to watch him busy with himself – shocked her. She looked about her room shamefacedly, as though trying to find some support and distraction. Her Bible lay close on the bed, but something Danny had said, about not being beholden to a book, stuck in her head; it made her feel strangely alienated from the leather-bound volume, the contents of which she had always revered, and return instead to Sapphire’s Odyssey, where the extravagantly slutty heroine reached out to caress the throbbing erections in both her palms and felt the two handfuls of hard dick-flesh bulge and pulse under her grip.

“Zat’s it, Sapphire, stroke zer cocks,” said the Duke’s steel voice close by. “And suck on zem, you little bitch.” The tawdry fiction has a similar sucking effect on Neely and vacuumed up her attention in seconds, so that she read avidly…

Sapphire pumped the two thick shafts slowly and lovingly, flicking her tongue on each glans and tasting the salty sperm that leaked from the tips. Then she began to take them one at a time into her succulent mouth, sucking hungrily and letting her saliva drool all over the rigid cock-towers to their bases. The robust bodies of the Austrian Count and his son went tense with excitement as she guzzled on their engorged manhoods, while the handsome blond-haired stranger sat to one side watching the scene intently, an inscrutable expression on his face.

“That’s good… You are a good slut,” snarled the Count, grabbing Sapphire’s hair and forcing her down further onto his cock, so that she gagged on it. “Now do the same to my son. Take him deep into your throat.” She obeyed, swallowing the strong young man’s rampant organ in her talented mouth and making him groan. “Make her take you all the way, my boy,” encouraged the father. “You are not truly a man until you have made use of a beautiful American whore.” She felt herself being plunged down again onto to the base of a thick cock, so that her spit sloshed all over it.

Sapphire knew she was a whore, trapped in the Duke’s luxury guest bedroom each night and taken out to service his guests. She did her job with enthusiasm however, licking, sucking and sliding her hands all over the dicks, which were now slippery with spit, massaging them – no no no, not that, not the M-word, please, thought Neely – vigorously with her wet hands.

“Suck zer balls!” the Duke ordered. “Pleasure my guests, you dirty little slut, and enjoy it! Pump zer cocks and make zem come all over your face!” She jacked the two throbbing phalluses harder, slurping the men’s balls into her mouth and lashing them with her tongue as her hands pummelled their poles. The father and son stared down lustfully at their slutty servant as their excitement grew towards a peak. Their groans increased and grew to aching yells as they lost control and began to climax.

“On her face!” the Duke demanded. Sapphire gazed as both cocks erupted, shooting their hot white lava all over her pretty face. She cried out in amazement as her eyes, mouth, nose and cheeks were splattered with gushing streams of jism. It went on for spurt after spurt, nearly drowned her in thick sperm. When they were finished, man-cream was plastered all over her, dribbling from her chin and splashing down onto her naked…

A firm knock on the apartment door shocked Neely out of her clit-pulsing reverie. She shoved Odyssey of Lust, with its lurid style and unfeasible ejaculatory descriptions, reflexively under the bed. Her nether-regions were soaked again; she had to check that her drenched pussy had not leaked through her panties. Briefly she looked in the dresser’s mirror – grey jogging bottoms swathing her wet loins, pale green tank top displaying just a hint of cleavage, hair slung back into a long ponytail. Sexy-cute achieved. Newly-flushed face an unhelpful addition; it screamed ‘headful of naughty thoughts’, she reflected, as she went to answer the door.

Ray seemed to notice. “God, Neely, you look radiant,” he said, stepping through to embrace her. His fingers caressed the nape of her neck as he kissed her. “And very, very sexy. You’d give a man sinful thoughts.” His hair, she noticed, was sun-bleached even lighter than usual and his face was a deeper tan. He was dressed in a loose-hanging white shirt and cream linen slacks. There was mint on his breath and the rest of him smelt like an ocean breeze. “I’m all showered,” he told her. “Ready for my rubdown.”

“Come into the kitchen,” she said hurriedly, tugging him that direction. The thought of Ray finally free of his shirt unnerved her. “We’ll have a glass of something first. You can tell me all about your day. Were you working on the ‘expense accounts’ piece, unmasking all that local political corruption?”

They sipped Chardonnay together and snacked on the dips and carrot sticks she had prepared. He portrayed himself jokingly as defender of truth in the face a lying establishment and she beamed at him with pride. Here he was, her sweet guy, always downplaying his moral side, yet much more similar to her than he’d ever own up to. Ray Archer mightn’t go campaigning in the name of Jesus when he reported, but she knew they were on the same side, however differently they expressed it. And his physical restraint in her company could not be overlooked. Small wonder the force of his sexual nature had leaked out ever more as they had dated. He was only human, right? He needed to know that she was not unmoved by his sensual longing.

“So,” she said, feeling terribly racy, “I think it’s time I helped you shake off the working week. What do you say?”

“I say, ‘I thought you’d never ask’,” he smiled. In a few deft movements he had unbuttoned his shirt at the cuffs and down the centre and shrugged it off his shoulders. It slipped away from his body only to be caught in one hand before it hit the floor. Neely gasped to be so suddenly confronted for the first time with her boyfriend’s naked torso. He was as impressive as she’d imagined – naturally broad-shouldered with sturdy gym-worked upper arms and shoulders, the broad expanse of his firm pectorals rolling down to a lightly-ribbed stomach. His upper body was a lighter tan than his face and overlaid with a fine scattering of blond hair.

“Oh my,” said Neely, laughing a little in shock, “you are all set for this! Those bench-presses are really working for you, baby…”

“Are we all set up?” Ray was smiling too, obviously pleased with himself for having caught her off-guard.

“Ehhh – yes. I’ve already set out some towels in the living-room. Go make yourself comfortable and I’ll just fetch the oils…” She slid from the bar-stool and trotted to her bedroom, nervous, but elated to have a cast-iron excuse to run her hands all over those well-hewn shoulders and that exquisitely-sculpted chest. After all, her boy did work so very hard at his job. On more than one level he was deserving. She gathered together the bottles and headed back, her heart thrilling with this opportunity. Best not to try and legitimize such a cunning stratagem when she co-led the workshop the following evening. At least she would have fewer guilty secrets to cover over than Jonas did…

On entering the living-room she gasped a second time, louder than in the kitchen. Ray had rearranged the pair of fluffy white towels she had provided, laying out one on the floor so he could lie face down on it and folding the other one across his ass. His clearly bare ass. He had wasted no time in stripping off his remaining clothes, including his briefs, and casting them onto the sofa. The fleetness of his disrobing was certainly impressive. Now he was propped up on his elbows, looking expectantly to his masseuse. He seemed to clock her stunned expression. “Was this not what you were expecting? Sorry, I kind of assumed you wanted me to get naked. I can put something back on…”

He went to push himself from the floor, the towel draping down around his loins as he rose. “No!” she cried out, fearing he was about to reveal himself accidentally in all his manly glory. She tried to modify her tone and save face, so silly and girlish did she feel. “No, no – I totally wanted you to... to get undressed. I promised you a proper massage and that’s what you’ll get. Obviously.” Shit. Ohhh SHIT. How the hell did this happen? He’s not wearing a stitch! What am I going to do?

Swallowing down her panic she gripped the selection of aromatic oils, his gift to her, and approached the hard-muscled, all-but-nude body of the handsome man who adorned her living-room carpet. She knelt beside him and set out the bottles in preparation. Ray was nestling his head into his folded arms, calmly awaiting her attentions. “I’ve been looking forward to his all day,” he said lazily.

So have I , she did not dare tell him. So have I… I just wasn’t factoring in so much… nakedness. She opted for orange and freesia, popping the bottle’s cap and trickling the contents across his broad back. He uttered an appreciative sigh as she smoothed oil over him in wide circles, the fresh summertime fragrance filling her nostrils. She loved how taut his skin was over firm muscle. It delighted her how masculine he seemed in that moment, and relieved her how clearly they had established the ‘no hands’ rule for him. As she worked the oil in lightly from his waist to his shoulders, her fears ebbed, like she were licenced to play.

Ray’s neck and shoulder muscles were tight and she kneaded them hard once she realised, leaning into him and working her fingers deep, as her college roommate Anna had once taught her. The advantages of sharing with a trainee physio… “Lots of tension to work out here, babe,” she observed, enjoying the feel of him under her hands.

“You have no idea,” he said with a deep groan. “That feels good, so good…” The catch of breath in the back of his throat, along with his blissful expression, gave her warning that he was enjoying much more than muscular release. He was loving her hands on his flesh and was desirous of more contact. “You know if you straddle me you can get at me better…” Bingo. Her inner-alarm was sounding once more.

“I can do a great job from here…”

“Go on,” he cajoled breathily. “You know how much I’d like it. I think maybe would too…”

How could she deny him that much? She climbed on and positioned herself either side of his solid thighs, reaching long to continue working his trapezia and upper back. The muscles shifted like tectonic plates under his skin as she squeezed with fingers and palms. All her residual nervousness seemed to drain away and poised above him a new feeling came upon her – one she was not used to - of power and sexiness. Here she sat, a sensual, attractive woman, able to seize a situation and wrest it to her own designs, to bestow gifts upon her near-naked boy or to withhold them as she saw proper. Problem was, part of her didn’t want to withhold anything, part of her rebelled against ‘proper’ ever more fiercely, but her sense of Christian virtue held things in check.

“Go on, lean into it,” muttered Ray, his voice thick with enjoyment.

“I am, silly,” she chided, having swooped low so that she could whisper to him. Her dangling ponytail brushed his neck and she revelled a little now in what a sexy tease she was being. It was a little sinful, but she could repent later. “I know what I’m doing,” she insisted. “Aren’t I making you feel nice?” She dropped a light kiss onto his ear.

“You are. Only question is how nice you’re going to make me feel…”

“Realllly nice,” she breathed, ignoring the innuendo and kneading slow and luxurious at his shoulder blades.

“Be even nicer if you took your top off…” He breathed it so casually that it took a moment for the words to connect with her brain; when they did they set her heart running apace.

“You don’t need that for a good massage,” she said levelly, not breaking her rhythm.

“I know. I’d just like to feel more of my beautiful girl’s skin next to mine. But you don’t have to if you don’t want. I shouldn’t even ask, baby…”

Neely paused and let these further words sink in, as though permeating through her pores and warming her whole inside. Recklessness seized her and she crossed her arms to seize the hem of her tank-top, then she pulled it up over her head and free of herself in a fluid movement. “There,” she said in a moment of almost brazen pride, flinging the garment onto the sofa, so that he could see it land amongst his own discards. The air in the room felt warm on her newly exposed flesh. You weren’t expecting that, were you? Holy crap, neither was I…

She bent low once more before the momentum of her sexy initiative ran out and slid her hands over his beautifully developed upper arms; her bosom, clad in a simple white-lace brassiere, pressed momentarily to his shoulder blades. “That better?” she whispered, intoxicated by her own boldness.

“Uh-huh,” he sighed, as though supremely contented, and she let her arms slide the length of his, till their fingers could entwine. “You make me happy, Neely J…”

“Do I?” She hoped it were true. The thought of his feeling discontented made her miserable. “You know I want to… So much… You know I care for you, Ray…” Did that make it alright? Did that make all she wanted to do, all she fantasized about, less of a transgression? And how much did he really care for her in return?

She rose and reached for the bottle once again, dribbling oil down the shallow crevice of his spine. Then she worked from the small of his back just above the ridge of the towel, spreading upwards and outwards in broad sweeping motions, lovingly working the warm liquid into his smooth skin. “There. Enjoy it, baby. Enjoy…”

“Lower…” his voice creaked.

“Lower?” She tried to mask the anxiety that crept into hers.

“You’re an amazing masseuse, but you’re too coy. Work from the base of the spine, right from the tail. That’s the professional thing to do…”

Neely swallowed hard, then tugged the towel further down over the upper swell of his hard, muscled buttocks, so she could access him from the lower curve of his spine. She added a little more oil, trying not to let it dribble into his ass-cleft, then recommenced her sweeping motion, this time from the bottom – Lord, from his bottom. There was a greater sense of it now, of having a gorgeous nude male laid out under the ministrations of her fingers. Of following the curve of his athletic ass in to his tight waist, then gliding out again to caress his well-toned broadening torso with her fingertips. It was gloriously wild and exciting, letting her flesh glance against his each time she surged low, feeling less the masseuse and more the lover on each stroke. Desires which had simmered inside her for years, long before she had met Ray, were boiling up within her, along with other longings, intense ones personal to him. She was wet, she realised, far, far wetter than when she had been reading her trashy book. Then his words began to pour and the loin-soaking thrill seemed to treble.

“So beautiful… So beautiful, Neely… I want to pay it back, I want to slather you in oil and massage every inch of you…”

“No, baby, no,” she beseeched, as she slid her body level with his. The thought was so terribly wonderful.

“Rub it into ever sweet curve on your body…”

“Leave it all to me. All to me, like we said…”

“Every hot little crevice…”

“No Ray, please… Let me be nice to you, let me be nice to you like we said…”

“I know, I know,” he growled, as though in pain. His pelvis, she realised, was slowly grinding itself against the lower towel and she had a jolting image of the massage’s inevitable physical effect on him. “Can’t blame a guy for dreaming…”

“I don’t, I don’t blame you,” she moaned, longing to relieve his apparent agony. “You know I… I…”

“Do my chest,” he said suddenly. “Will you? Please?”

The request took her momentarily aback, but it was so much in the flow of proceedings that she went with it. She was still the masseuse, the one in control, right? “Let me get a different oil, sweetheart…”

She had hardly climbed off him and reached for the vanilla and musk, when he rolled over, threatening to expose all he had; artfully, however, he pulled the towel into place around him so that a large corner section draped across his loins and stomach, covering up the epicentre of his maleness in its loose folds. Neely let her eyes wander freely for a moment over his splendidly sculpted frame, his modesty maintained only by a casual scrap of towel. His face had a fevered aspect about it, which she was sure her own visage mirrored. The bottle hovered for a moment as she stared, then she tipped it and allowed the richly scented oil to spill from his collar-bone down towards his stomach.

“You’re so beautiful,” she said weakly, as her hands reached towards him. Her fingertips slithered through the gently rivering liquid, smearing it over his lightly-haired chest, working in slow circles on the hard-packed brawn of his pectorals and homing in with tentative fascination on his hard nipples. She observed her own teasing progress as though it were someone else’s fingers drawing that hoarse-breathed reaction from her boyfriend’s throat. Somehow detaching herself like that made it possible to keep going.

“God, Neely, have you any idea how sexy you are?” His voice was loaded with desire.

“I… I don’t know how to answer that…” She moved her hands self-consciously away from his pectorals to his shoulders and continued to rub.

“Hands-off policy still stands, right? So I can’t even attempt to undo your bra…”

“No… No, that’s right, you can’t…” Blood hammered in her ears. She focused on massaging into the hollow above his collar-bone.

“So you’ll have to take it off yourself.” Her fingers stayed at the quiet firmness in his voice. She looked at him and he stared back, gently challenging. “Go on, Neely, let me see…”

The moment extended, wrapping Neely up in its erotic power. Ray’s eyes were already admiring the expanses of creamy skin she had uncovered. She wanted very much for him to see and the desire seemed to swallow up every scruple she had. The creep of her hands behind her back was far from the cavalier joy with which she had removed her top, but she did not divert her gaze from Ray’s face for an instant. I’ve never done this for anyone. But I’ll do it for you, you gorgeous man… She unclasped at the back and eased the straps off her shoulders, finally letting the garment slip to the floor. Her breasts were modest, but pert and proud on her slim frame, with slightly upturned pale-red nipples, and she revealed them to her guy with a frisson of delight. Like the church-worker turned burlesque-star at night. Neely von Tease. His lips parted, tongue-tip wetting them. She could see his pupils dilating as he looked on her freely.

“Just… Just perfect,” he said, but he did not try to touch her. She could sense the valiant restraint of this horny male, whose size and strength trounced hers, who could, should he decided to, flip her over and fuck her virgin pussy on the living-room floor with nothing to be done, but who awaited her instead. How thrilling to surprise her patient boy, to do that little bit more than he expected. To mess just slightly with his expectations. Thus she lifted the bottle one more time and dripped vanilla and musk-scented oil across her boobs, so that it rolled down and beaded on her hard-pointed nipples. Their gazes remained locked – she loved how his breath caught – as she cupped her breasts and massaged in the oil, making her neat bosom all slippery for him.

She could scarcely believe her own daring as she descended onto him once more, topless this time, and trailed her slickened tits all the way over his chest, letting her hard nipples rake past his. The sensation of rough male beneath her feminine softness was mouth-watering in its deliciousness. She was almost on top of him and the danger, as she repeated the move, made her head whirl. He was emitting low groans as her slender upper body glided across the breadth of his. It seemed inevitable that he would suddenly grab her in punishment for the sexy torment she was inflicting and when she slithered to eye-level with him the fifth or sixth time, he did. One strong hand clapped to her slim shoulder and held her in place, while his eyes blazed into hers.

“No hands…” she protested, breathless, but she felt sure that the game was up. He was going to wrestle her over and seduce her roughly on the carpet, while she struggled for the will to resist.

“I know,” he breathed, his grip relenting. “God, Neely, you don’t know what you do to me.”

“I do, I think…” She felt scared and very desired. Once again the situation she had carefully managed was threatening to spin way out of control.

“You have no idea,” he said, a new fierceness to his tone. “So let me show you.” He dragged his body out from under her, clutching the towel to his loins, then he flung it aside dramatically, exposing his full nakedness to her for the first time.

Neely’s hand shot to her gasping mouth, making her feel like some comic cliché. Euphemisms from Odyssey of Lust which she had tried to dismiss as absurd - ‘throbbing man-rod’ and ‘colossal pole of steel’ – seemed stunningly appropriate for what lay before her. Ray had shaved himself close so that the full hard-etched sculpture of his cock was on display. His heavy veined ball-sac weighed down between his parted legs. Stretching up from it, spearing all the way to his belly was a proud tower of flesh; it culminated in a bulging plum of a head which seemed to surge out from the rest of the organic structure like a beacon. She stared, allowing her eyes to wander all over its bizarre alien beauty.

“That’s what you do,” he said emphatically, propping himself up on one arm, his eyes still aflame. He gripped his robust phallus by the base and prised it from his stomach. Her head seemed to fill with static, so that she couldn’t think, only look. “Not just times like this… Most of the time we’re together. Anytime we touch. Anytime I think of you at night. Or in the morning. Or through most of the goddam day. Hard, Neely, rigid-hard for you. I can’t help it, I can’t make it any other way. It’s just the effect you have on me.”

“Oh my…” she breathed through her fingers, unable to break her gaze. “It’s… It’s…” Terrifying. And amazing.

“And let me show you what I do, Neely,” he persisted, grabbing for the nearest oil-bottle, “every night and most mornings. What I’ve done during the working day just to keep my mind off you and on my work…” She watched astonished as he spurted orange and freesia oil the length of his thick extension and, casting the bottle aside, seized himself, beginning to massage in slow gliding strokes back and forth. The liquid glistened all over his cock as his palm spread it and the hardness of his member only seemed to reinforce the tighter he squeezed. “Thinking of you, Neely, you and nothing else… Everything I’d like to do to you, beautiful girl…” Her head swam with the scary wonder of it, that her own naked guy was wanking himself freely in front of her, hot testimonials to her loveliness pouring from his mouth. “Does that shock you, Neely? Does it appal you that you make me feel this?”

It shocked her, yes, maybe it should have appalled her too. She was sure her heightened Christian conscience should have been kicking into overdrive now as it had always done before, but something appeared to have temporarily stalled it. For she wasn’t scurrying away, grabbing her top and insisting that he cover up. She wasn’t retreating into her Scriptural fortress. Perhaps it was because she felt a different guilty responsibility, directed to the great tumescence held before her, which her own ravishing attractiveness had apparently created. And perhaps she was jealous of the outrageous sexy moments the people around her all seemed to have – Jasmin, Leo, Jonas and Leona, Danny… Perhaps she just wanted to seize a sexy moment of her own, like she had done for so long in her dreams…

“No…” she whispered, fixated on that great flexing, pulsing centre of Ray’s maleness. “It doesn’t appal me, baby. Not at all…” The rampant engorgement of his cock was just nature in operation after all, as was every chemical response inside her. God had made it all and right now it seemed overwhelming…

Her hand reached out to him as though to reassure that she wasn’t made squeamish by the sight, or by his reckless behaviour. It kept going till her fingers brushed his pumping hand, easing it away, so that her fingers slithered over the hot taut surface and closed around him as far as they would go. Till she took firm hold of Ray Archer’s ‘throbbing fuck-stick’. So much was happening so fast, she thought she’d faint from the drumming in her head. But maybe this way she could help her boy, find a way to diffuse the awful crippling tension that existed between them. “Let me do it,” she said. “I want to, baby.”

Ray leaned back on both elbows and stared in amazement of his own. She was sure the look she shot him in return was piteous – that the little girl within was belying all her womanly efforts. His erection genuinely did seem to throb under her grip. She was sure she could feel the hot flesh pulse as she began to draw her hand up and down the thick shaft. There was a wonder in this moment, watching her own slim fingers gliding all over the implacably hard male sex organ, feeling its contained power beneath her palm – from the tight cushioning of the balls all the way up the thick-veined column to the domed summit and back again. She could feel the pulse of life within it – this was a thing alive, she marvelled, with its own amoral agenda, a throbbing engine threatening to drive the man. Only - she had sparked it, she was the one who had set it growling into life. The thought terrified her, yet filled her with a strange exultant pride. A sinful pride. Ray’s jaw had dropped, his breath was a shallow panting. She, Neely Jordan, was responsible for this man’s throbbing torment. Surely only she could properly relieve it.

“You like that, baby?” she inquired earnestly. “I’m not doing it too hard?”

She gasped anew as Ray reached and wrapped his big hand around hers, squeezing it tighter to his cock. “Hard as you fucking like, darling,” he said with a breathy grin, shunting her hand briskly up and down, so that they wanked his pole as one. “There, isn’t it nice to do things together, babe?” His voice was full of affectionate playful lust. “Having fun yet?”

“Yeah…Yeah… I am…” Oh God... She wasn’t sure which she felt more - slutty or benevolent – but she was having, she thought, the most tremendous guilty fun of her life. Her voice shook with excitement and she could hardly keep the smile from creeping onto her lips in response to his boldness with her.

“Do it on your own,” he told her, releasing his grip. “Hard like that. I want to feel you do it.”

This was wrong, a flagrant betrayal of everything she stood for - of that Neely was sure. But she’d always been one for doing a job properly once it was started. She rose to the challenge, no longer fearful at any rate of causing him injury. She tightened her hold and gave some frantic wrist movement, pumping her hot boyfriend’s thick cock, suddenly wanting to plunge her hand down the front of her jogging bottoms and frig herself as well. Too much concentration was required to ensure she pleased him, though, so that would have to wait till later. Anyway, she didn’t dare let him see it. Just focus on masturbating this big dick – how impossibly lewd and unrestrained and sexy…

Neely hardly recognised herself. Oh God, after all I’ve said, he’s going to think me the most terrible slut… Maybe I am, what the hell am I doing? Was this what she was really like, was this the wicked licentious self that had lurked all these years beneath her holy exterior? But such scary thoughts were not enough to restrain her now. Other forces had taken over. Ray’s ragged-voiced panting enjoyment and her own pantie-saturating wetness were just way too exhilarating. Anything to make her boy happy.

Anything? She wanted to please him so much and there was such gratification in subverting his sense of her primness. The thought spurred her before she could think a second time and she bent down, hand still jerking, to put her mouth ever so lightly to the bulged head of Ray’s cock. She let her tongue flicker on his hot flesh for the briefest of moments. Ray gasped at the contact and she felt a split-second’s delight at having shocked him. Gosh, you weren’t expecting that, were you? Then it rushed in on her - oh God, oh God – mouth, mine, boyfriend’s cock – and she pulled back. So bad, so terribly wrong, and besides, she didn’t know what the hell she was doing! All very well for Jasmin, or even for Leona, the little teen sexpot…

“That’s so amazing, Neely, do it again, don’t be frightened… You don’t know how good that is for me… Please would you take it in your mouth? I’m begging you…”

Then again, Jonas’ girl and even Jasmin had once sucked cock for the first time with no instruction manual, so how was it different for Neely? Aside from the terrible harlot she knew she was being, frowned on by her Creator. But Ray did sound such a tormented sweetheart when he begged, so she acceded to his plea. The head of his cock was bulbous and even bigger than she’d realised and she had to stretch her mouth wide to get it all in. Ohhh my, what am I doing, what am I doing? Then it was past her lips, warm and velvety and slightly salty. She undulated her mouth around him and shameful realisation hit her once more… I’m fellating, I’m sucking my boyfriend’s cock, I’m a… - the book came rushing back to her – I’m a little cock-sucker… As Ray’s meat filled her mouth she wondered if something perverse would kick in with him and his respect for her would instantly dissipate. To say nothing of her own Christian self-respect. But it seemed much too late to worry about that now.

She’d got the basic motion down and from Ray’s groans it seemed to be going okay, technically at any rate. Then she recalled a bit of Sapphire’s technique when some guy wasn’t filling the girl’s throat, and swirled her tongue under the ridge of the head, withdrawing her mouth so that she could flicker at his tip. He liked that, didn’t he? from his obscene blasphemous mutterings – “So good, Jesus, so fucking good...” It was wrong that she should have natural aptitude for something so bad, that she should take instruction from a filthy sex-novel. She flinched for a moment at the salty ooze she realised was leaking from Ray’s tip… Another flash of panic. Was he about to ejaculate? No, she remembered something about ‘pre-cum’ – from that damned corrupting book again - and sensed besides from his demeanour that he wasn’t there yet. So she licked the tip just a little more and jacked him vigorously. She knew the inevitable end of this action, had known it from the start she supposed, and wasn’t sure how to deal with it.

“You okay, baby? You alright? Are you close?” Heavens, listen to herself, where were these words coming from?

“Not yet, baby, not yet, keep doing it, keep wanking me… That’s so fucking amazing… Suck me again, I want your mouth…” She obeyed instinctively now, went down for a second time, feeling a terrible pained sense of her own whorishness. “Oh God, Neely, you’re so beautiful, I can’t believe you’re sucking my cock… I’ve wanted this… I’ve wanted this…” He was holding his face in both hands, she saw, and it made her heart rejoice shamefully. She gave him the most loving attention her untrained mouth could muster – why not when she had already proved herself such an appalling slut? - then lifted off to gaze mournfully at him over the head of the dick she was still massaging tight from the base. He stared back and uttered words that made her shudder. “I want to fuck you, Neely Jordan. I want to thrust inside you and fuck you to your depths, my beautiful darling…”

“I know… I know…” She was as flattered as she was terrified. He made those dirty words sound gorgeous and romantic.

“Let me do it, please, Neely, let me fuck you… We’ll go slow to start, I promise…”

“No, baby, no, I’m sorry, I want to, but I can’t…” So many boundaries had collapsed in one short night, she had to shore up the final one. She had to have something left. Her hand speeded up on his cock to compensate for her refusal. “Let me make you happy, I so want to make you happy…”

“God, I want to be inside you…”

“I know, baby, I know…” She felt close to tears, lamenting for something she couldn’t do even though it was what she craved. Lamenting what she had already lost… “Let me do this… Enjoy it, please…”

“I am… I so fucking am… You’re so gorgeous… I so, so fucking love you…”

“Do you?” The words, in the midst of their heated, dirty encounter, amazed and reassured her, redeemed her momentarily from her guilt. “Do you, Ray?” She worked his slick pole frantically and darted her tongue on its head as though to draw out another confession. “Tell me, Ray, say it again…” She licked him one more time and plunged her hand up and down on his shaft, which was more pulsing-hard than ever before. “Say it again…”

“I… I… Ohhhhh FUCK!” She felt Ray’s rigid organ jolt hard, a split-second before her face was deluged in a series of hot liquid explosions. Jet on jet of thick musky fluid pelted her from her chin to her forehead, so that she screwed up her eyes and squealed aloud, taking at least one salty blast to the roof of her mouth. Ray was cutting loose with hoarse guttural cries, like he were dying a particularly exquisite death, as his copious spendings splashed over every facial feature and into her tied-up hair. By the time his cock had unleashed its last, his semen was trickling in rivulets from her face, splashing down onto her tits.

Neely knelt, panting and confused and, overwhelmed by what had just occurred. Her eyes she scarcely dared open, in case they sting any more than they were already suffering. Ray’s involuntary gooey offering, is seemed, was clinging everywhere – her face, her chest, her hands… He was salty on her tongue, dribbling from her lips. She had to spit him out just so she could speak. “Oh my Lord, oh my Lord, it’s all over me…”

“It’s okay babe, it’s okay…” There was an urgent calm about Ray’s voice. He was clambering to his feet. “Wait here, I’ll sort you out, don’t panic…” She wasn’t going anywhere, that was for sure. All she could do was stay there, with this physical manifestation of her guilt plastered all over her skin.

He returned moments later and she felt him kneel in front of her. “Don’t fret, baby, I’ll clean you up…” She felt a cool surface wipe the sticky mess from her eyes and then she could see him, at work with a packet of wet-wipes he had procured from her bathroom. She knelt meek and mute as he scooped his own cum from where it dangled on her chin and her nipples, painstakingly cleaned up every last trace from her face and her breasts, and from where globs of it clung to her ponytail, with the moist tissues. “I’m sorry, darling, it just came on me suddenly. You were just so damned hot and I… I lost control… I didn’t mean that to happen, you’ve got to believe me…”

“It’s okay.” The frozen sense of perplexity melted in a rush of affection for her slightly ridiculous-looking boy and his earnest concern. The emotion seemed more powerful in that moment than her shame. She reached out and touched his face. They contemplated each other silently and then embraced, and Neely wondered once more at how natural it seemed to have her lovely guy butt naked in her arms.

“God - I didn’t do so well, did I?” he sighed.

“What do you mean?” She thought she knew.

“I keep saying you can trust me, when you can’t. I get close to you and all my good intentions just fly out the window. I guess you think I’m just bad to the bone.”

“You’re not,” Neely assured him, remembering the words she had heard him speak in his escalating excitement, but not daring to bring them up again. “Well, you are, but… I’m hardly one to talk.” She knew he had sprung all sorts of wicked surprises on her, but she had hardly acted like Little Miss Chaste, had she?

“Neely, I…”

“Just hold me, Ray…” He went to embrace her and she had a fleeting vision of semen still leaking out of his flagging cock. “Just put your trousers on and then hold me…” He did both - she took the opportunity to pull the tank-top back over her exposed breasts – and they rocked each other long and slow. “I don’t do that, Ray, what I did, for anyone…” She remembered taking his cock in her mouth and her eyes welled in a heated rush of tears. “Oh God, Ray, you’re just going to think I’m one more little slut…”

“No!” he protested, dragging her closer. “Don’t dare think that, not for an instant! You mustn’t feel bad about anything that happened this evening!” He drew her apart from him so he could stare into her blurry eyes. “Neely, you’re like no one I’ve ever known, no one I’ve ever dated comes close to you. You’re a beautiful, warm, spontaneous, passionate woman and… and I could never think badly of you. Ever. I love being with you, so much. Can’t imagine myself with anyone else. I… I want to think I have a future with you.” He looked for a moment like he had surprised himself. “You want that too, right?”

“Yes…” Her head swam with a kind of miserable joy and she hugged him, her tears spilling over. His care and his desire melted into her and she felt wanted, needed, her sense of sluttiness dissipating, at least temporarily. “Yes, Ray, I want that. I want that very much…”

They subsided gradually against the sofa in each other’s arms and remained there for what seemed a long time, Neely basking in Ray’s reassurance. “I can stay longer if you want,” he told her eventually, softly.

“I want,” she confessed, “there’s nothing I’d like more. But…” The intimacy between them was to cherish, but there’d been a sexy fire which the gush of Ray’s orgasm had somehow doused – through the shock factor rather than any sense of repulsion – and she could not have it flare up again. How could she begin to process what had happened with him still there? “I’ve got an early start. Church, you know?” Dear Lord, church… Her cheeks burned a little.

“Yes,” he said, squeezing her. “I know.” She watched him complete his dressing and strolled with him to the apartment door, clinging to his hand and reluctant to let go.

He kissed her there, lingering and tender, then stroked her jaw and looked into her eyes. “You okay about tonight? You do believe everything I said? You don’t doubt why I want to be close to you in that way?”

She could see the warm blaze in his eyes which had fuelled her own unexpected desire and its fulsome expression earlier on. It made her tremor a little in embarrassment. “I do believe you, Ray. And I know why you want that.” Same reason as me. “Tonight was… intense. I just need a little space to think through how I feel about it all.”

“I know you do. You’re a very special girl, Neely J, I don’t deserve you.” He kissed her forehead lightly. “Now kick my ass out of here.”

Once he had left she sat in the kitchen swilling Chardonnay round her glass, warmed by Ray’s words but almost physically distancing herself from the physical aspect of the evening. Tomorrow she had church, twice, then a relationships workshop with the youngsters. The thought seemed almost farcical, but she couldn’t view it like that. She had a job to do, whatever had happened. Whatever chain of dominoes had just toppled. Get through the workshop, get home, have some time for prayer and reflection. Good Lord - there was no chance of her praying tonight. She didn’t have the words, so acute was her sense of her own wanton behaviour. She chucked the wine into the sink and made some hot chocolate instead, with which she washed down herbal calming-tablets. Good night’s sleep, that was what she needed. Let unconsciousness drown the host of masturbatory thoughts she could feel returning from the fringes of her mind. Nestle down under the duvet, deep breathing and fade to black.

But it took forever for sleep to come upon her and she had to fight off the urge to touch herself. Not that she had done so in two weeks, but tonight it seemed imperative that she should. As though in getting herself off she would acknowledge the sheer overwhelming heat of what had transpired in her living-room, completing some disastrous circuit in her mind. No, she had to short-circuit what had happened this evening. She had to back off from it while she still could. Somehow she stayed her hand and drifted into turbulent sleep.

The passage to morning was a dream-ridden fusion of guilt, romance and sexual longing. Neely felt ill-slept as she showered, holding her face to the warm jets. She dared not let her mind stroll to the same scrub-time fantasies as yesterday, not with reality merging as much as it had done last night. The shower left her physically refreshed, but had done nothing to wash away her confusion. Through her walk and bus-ride to Alton Bridge there was numbness and she knew this would be a day for going through the motions. The greetings at her place of worship, the singing of praise songs, even the prayers passed her by like she were anaesthetised from it all.

She avoided Jonas’ and Leona’s gazes on grounds of pure embarrassment, but guiltiness was not the plague she might have expected. There in what should have become for her a crucible of shame, her energy was all being spent on holding back the tide of desire that threatened to wash over and drown her.

Pastor Simmons’ observations during the service actually grated, more so in the light of the workshops he had foisted upon her. “We are the floodgates,” he was announcing, “against an ever-rising tide of permissive evil.” Maybe that was the tide with which she was contending. In the light of her conversation with Danny the phrase seemed just plain unhelpful. As she lowered her head for another prayer, she felt some of the ex-Youth Pastor’s anger simmering within her.

It was during Jack Simmons’ righteous plea for his congregation’s purity that Neely’s phone vibrated with the incoming text. On any other occasion she would have let it be, but the strong possibility of a particular sender made her steal it out of the purse pressed beside her and take a surreptitious look. The source of the message was indeed Ray and his communication’s contents made her heart thump. I KEEP SEEING IT, NEELY, MY CUM DRIPPING FROM YOUR PRETTY FACE, AND I CAN’T BE SORRY. YOU LOOKED SO DAMN BEAUTIFUL.

She kept feeling it, smelling it, never more powerfully than when she read those words – that primal essence of man fountaining all over her, splashing hot against her face and showering down onto her tits. Fresh from that beautiful erect cock she had so sinfully massaged and tasted. Attached to the gorgeous man who so wanted to put it inside her and divest her of all remaining innocence. “Excuse me…” she hissed to the young lad sitting next to her. She grabbed her purse and wriggled past him as discreetly as possible, trying to look as though she had been taken suddenly ill. From the heat of her face she was sure it looked plausible.

Neely rushed to the ladies’ rest room, possessed by the all the thoughts the text had summoned. Prayer and Scripture and a host of holy exhortations weren’t enough to quench the furnace that raged inside her now. Thankfully the toilets were empty. Hoping if not praying that no one would interrupt, she bolted herself into a cubicle, plucked up the skirt of her summer dress and thrust her hand into her already wringing-wet knickers. “Uuuuuungh…” She found herself having to bite down on her moans as she plunged a finger into her soaked cunt and began to rub her palm concertedly against her clitoris. Ray – his playful smile and hot body, his filthy passionate words and his desire, throbbing all through him to his bursting cock – filled her head and fuelled her frantic masturbation. She should never have started this, never have dated him in the first place, then it wouldn’t have come to this – frigging herself silly in the church toilet, with the service still going on in the same building. She came hard, fast, explosively, her pussy clenching tight around her deep-inserted finger, while she imagined something way more substantial in its place. “Oh dear God…” she sobbed, post-orgasmic tremors still shivering through her. “Ohhhh sweet fuck…”

A hymn filtered through to her from the main building and she wanted to cry…

* * * *

04/07/10 00:36 GMT

(excerpt)

I really thought I was there. So close, the crumbling of her resolve, tangible before me.

But more than that… Not simply something collapsing, something emerging as well. Like some astonishing sexual butterfly about to burst from its cocoon. I’ve never seen it before, anything like it. I’ve seduced and fucked virgins before, I’ve taken delight in corrupting innocence and… this just wasn’t like that. It was… like something coming into being. Embracing themselves as a whole new type of person. Like this girl can take anything and make something beautiful out of it. Almost like – and yes, I get the irony – a religious experience. Almost. Next time for real. And God, my orgasm adorning her face – hotter than fucking a dozen Katies, a dozen Jasmins. Something about the way she looked, just – I don’t know – precious. Does that sound stupid? Yes, it does, I know. Screw it.

I’m almost there. Next time I’ll have her.

Ray

04/07/10 07:45 PST

You see, Ray, you were doing so well, then you started to bore me. Got her jacking you off, nice. Got her mouth on your cock, impressive. Sprayed a fat load all over her pretty Christian face – result! Not on a par with sticking it to her prissy virginal puss, but gratifying to hear all the same. And then you start in with the ‘butterfly’ and the ‘religious experience’ and the ‘precious’. What, are you turning into fucking Gollum? I’ve never heard that bullshit from you before, Ray, and it damn well scares me. Get yourself to-freakin’-gether.

Let me help you focus. My flight for London is booked a week today, as is my hotel. On the evening of Monday 12 th July I will be waiting there, for you. I will have bindings, exotic playthings, a shitload of lubricant and a willingness to let you put it all to whatever use you choose, all night. On one simple condition. I want a photograph in my inbox by then of the just-fucked Neely Jordan lying in your bed. So I can print it off and pin it up next to the one from her church’s website. Give me that, Ray, and you will own me like no one ever has. Fail, and you won’t even know where to find me.

Go, Ray, be a God amongst seducers.

Carlotta xox

* * * *

Neely had been sitting on her bed for almost an hour by the time she picked up her mobile. She had thought her own crazed auto-attentions in the church toilet might have quelled the inner fire that had flared up so intensely since the previous night. They had not.

She was tired. Tired of clinging to something that the Universe seemed determined to prize from her. Tired of blaming the satanic entity in whom she didn’t literally believe. Tired of fretting and whining, wrangling and resisting. She’d been resisting for this past hour. Resisting the terrible guilty excitement that had been bubbling up in her stomach from the moment she had thought that fateful thought: “Why just not do it and be damned?” Metaphorically of course.

She had never felt this way since she’d been told aged eight the Jordan family was going to Disney World, Florida. Only back then her parents had forked out for the adventure. This time she alone would pay the price. But maybe she no longer cared about that. And what she was considering trounced the hell out of the Disney trip. “At least he loves me,” she smiled miserably, before she keyed the message into her phone. “And at least I love him back.”

I KEEP THINKING ABOUT LAST NIGHT TOO, RAY. WILL YOU BE IN LATE TONIGHT? IF SO, I’D REALLY LIKE TO COME ROUND. LOVE YOU, NEELY XOX

She stared at the words for twenty whole minutes, before she sent them.

TO BE CONTINUED