That Filthy Book Page 5

  His eyes sparkled, the kind of twinkle I hadn’t seen in such a long time, and a smile hooked up one corner of his mouth. His cheeks were flushed despite the nip in the air and he gave a low chuckle.

  “Good, wasn’t it?” he asked, eyeing me with a look that dared me to respond in the negative.

  “Fucking wonderful!” And I meant it. Yes, his hand over my mouth for an extended period wasn’t something I wanted to repeat, and I’d have to speak to him about that, fine-tune the details for next time, but otherwise… It had been wonderful. Exactly what I’d wanted, scratches, marks and all.

  “That guy…” He shrugged, like the action would make us being caught go away. “Wonder who he was, what he thought?”

  “I don’t give a shit. I’m on a high.” As we walked on, a sudden thought hit me. “Hey, what happened to the hammer we bought in the tool shop?”

  He glanced my way again. “Shit! I forgot about that. I was so excited…”

  “Did you even bring it with you?”

  “No, left it in our room.”

  “There’ll be other times. That handle…”

  Lapsing into silence, we continued our walk to the hotel, and I was sure he was as lost in thoughts of what we’d just done as I was. The whole episode, from Jacob getting that guy to join in, to the fuck itself, and then that man finding us, had been more than I’d expected. I’d ask him later about how he’d convinced someone to join in our game. Whether he’d paid him to do it.

  How had we gone so long without experimenting like this? Age must have something to do with it; maturity had brought a different perspective on what was right and wrong. Was any of it wrong? I didn’t care if some thought it was.

  It was right for us.

  In the hotel lobby, all potted palms scattered among carefully positioned chairs and low coffee tables, my bare feet slapped on the cold marble floor. A porter, pushing an empty suitcase trolley, gave me the once-over, his perusal ending at my pink-painted toenails. He frowned as though my sort didn’t belong in this hotel, and that brought on another rush of laughter.

  “What’s so funny?” Jacob asked, leading me towards the lift.

  “Him looking at me.” I nodded at the porter, who glanced back over his shoulder and shook his close-cropped head. “Me with no shoes on. Dressed like a tart.”

  Jacob leaned across to whisper, “Ah, you’re a trashy whore, that’s what he’s thinking, bitch.”

  His voice—that tone—set me off again. My stomach churned as excitement stirred and my knees weakened. I knew I would be ready for more fucking once we got to our room.

  And we did. Fucked the rest of the weekend away, cramming every spare moment we had into being with one another. We didn’t make it to the art gallery, didn’t take the time to wander the streets and take in our environment. The bedroom was the only sight we needed. That and each other.

  I had yet to tell Jacob of my other erotic fantasies, but I needed to think about them myself first. See if I really wanted to allow the contents of that book to grip me again before inviting him to join in. Besides, rolling them around in my mind and testing how they made me feel was all part of the arousal. The build-up to confessing what I wanted was frightening yet exhilarating.

  And the actual playing it out was the icing on the damn cake.

  * * * *

  Thoughts of being fucked in the arse had begun to intrude on a regular basis since we’d returned home. I’d had no idea Jacob wanted that until our time in the alley, and I found myself pondering what it would feel like more often than I cared to admit. With Jacob away for the weekend—his turn on the rota for a work seminar he’d rather not have to attend—and the girls staying with his mum and dad, I had nothing much to do but think. I cleaned until the house sparkled, read until my eyes crossed and lay awake at night, my mind wandering to how it would feel to have Jacob’s cock inside my arse. And the more I thought about it, the more it appealed. The more I thought about it, the more I knew we would do it.

  I imagined it would hurt at first, having an alien object inside that hole. When browsing internet sites on the subject—yes, I’d been curious enough for that—the general consensus was that the pain turned pleasurable after a while. I could cope with that, and I guessed Jacob could too, considering he’d been close to fucking me in that spot in that alley.

  Had he been thinking of it for a long time and just hadn’t said? I’d hidden my rape fantasy from him because I hadn’t wanted him to think me perverted or weird. Had he done the same with anal sex? I hated the thought of him feeling unable to share everything with me, and for the first time I realised he may well have felt the same about my recent revelation. That I hadn’t trusted him enough to share.

  I sighed and flopped onto our bed, staring out of the window at the onset of night. Funny, but I noticed how much the layout of our room resembled the one at the hotel, only our furniture was real wood and the walls were bright with sunny yellow paint and gold-coloured bedding. The cream curtains fluttered in the slight breeze, sifting through the open crack, cooling the room to a pleasant temperature. I needed it—I’d been getting far too hot lately. And I also needed Jacob to call. I wanted to hear his voice, and I was just about ready to fully confess my latest fantasy. With me here all alone, we could talk without interruption. I hated being away from him like this, and who knew, a bit of phone sex might bring us closer, despite the miles separating us.

  I idled away the time conjuring images of Jacob holding me close, my back to his chest, his cock nudging my arse cleft. I imagined how his rigid tip would butt my puckered hole, trying to gain entrance, his hands spanning my hips as he held me steady.

  “Bend over, bitch,” he’d say.

  And I’d obey, perhaps clutching the windowsill, perhaps the footrest, or maybe even the headboard as we both knelt on the bed. The locations weren’t my main focus, though. The entry was.

  My cunt clenched and juices seeped, my clit starting that delicious throb that told me I’d need to masturbate to relieve it. Jacob had to call soon or I’d begin without him. Again the image of his cock in my arse appeared, and I reached over to my bedside cabinet, feeling guilty at knowing what I was about to do.

  I was going to explore by myself before telling him what I wanted.

  Finding the small blue butt plug I’d bought over the internet and the lube that had gained me a puzzled look from the supermarket cashier as she’d swiped it over the barcode reader, I began the task of preparing my arse for invasion. Squeezing a glob of lube onto my finger, I lay back and opened my legs wide, bringing my knees up and my heels close to my body. The position was so rude, so exposed; lying there on our bed with the curtains fluttering in the breeze. Thank goodness neighbours couldn’t see in.

  I reached down, fingertips brushing my clit before seeking out my arsehole. I found it, and tested its resistance as I pushed against it. The tip of my finger popped through, and the tight clench of the rim around it hadn’t been something I was expecting. With a gentle movement, I eased my finger in further, experiencing the sensation of needing to go to the toilet. This hadn’t been something I’d anticipated either, and I kept still for a moment, wondering if I really needed to go or whether it was just my body’s initial reaction.

  It seemed the latter was the case and as the feeling subsided I was able to insert a little more of my finger. The entry passage was rigid, unyielding, and I wondered how the hell Jacob’s cock would fit inside. Already my rim was burning; the slight stretch a tad painful.

  What had I been thinking, wanting this?

  The lure of that burn, that pain turning into pleasure, spurred me on, though. If I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t ask Jacob if he wanted to try it. I removed my finger, although it still felt as if it was in there, and lubed the butt plug. This was bigger than my finger, wider and longer too, with a pointed end that should glide in easily. It did, but not without the burn, and the lube exacerbated it, made it feel like my arsehole was on fire.

 
An inch-wide toy did that? Jacob’s cock was far broader.

  I was in a whole heap of a completely different type of trouble with this fantasy.

  Gritting my teeth in anticipation of pain, I eased the plug up and down. A strange sensation of my arse being filled and the plug rubbing against the wall separating it from my cunt took my thoughts on a different journey.

  How would it feel to have my arse and pussy filled?

  Using the fingers of my free hand, I inserted them into my other hole, pushing in and out in time with the butt plug. I pressed against the wall, feeling the rigidity of the plug, the sponginess of my arousal. And then the phone rang.

  I took my fingers from my pussy and jabbed the speakerphone button.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, love, how are you?”

  “Fine,” I managed, my throat tight.

  “And the girls?”

  I struggled to keep lust from my voice as I sent my hands back down between my spread-eagled legs. “Er, yep, good. I spoke to them earlier.”

  “I’m sorry I’m ringing so late, it’s been a heck of an intense day. I’ve only just got back to my hotel room.”

  “That’s okay, I…” My voice trailed off as I subjected the plug to another prod and it popped completely in for the first time. I blew out a long, slow breath, willing for control of my body as wicked sensations ruled.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m…I’m just lying on the bed.” I squirmed, the fullness overwhelming and my anus taut and hot. It didn’t matter where I wriggled, though, the feeling followed.

  “Are you thinking of me?”

  “God, yes, yes, Jacob. I wish you were here. I wish you were here being the man you were in the alley. It was so hot, so shocking.” My words were fast and tripped over themselves.

  He hesitated for a second, then lowered his voice. “I can be him again if you want?”

  “Now?”

  “Yes, now, if that’s what you want.”

  A fevered flush of anticipation travelled over my skin, and my pelvis contracted around the invasion in my arse. I wanted Jacob to be that primitive, carnal man who took what he wanted. The thought of him speaking like that while I was so aroused and rudely penetrated was divine.

  There was a moment of suspended, silent anticipation. I could hear him breathing.

  “Are you touching yourself, you filthy little whore?” Jacob’s raw, rusty rapist’s voice shimmered through me, bringing a tide of emotions with it.

  My breath hitched and I shut my eyes. “Yes.”

  “Naked?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you wet for the evil, depraved man you shouldn’t want but do?”

  “Very.”

  “You really are a slut, aren’t you, always asking for it.”

  “I’m asking, I’m asking for all of it. I want the man who grabbed me in the alley and fucked me against the wall until I could barely remember my own name. I want that man to take me again, hard and fast and without a thought for me, just himself.”

  His breath hitched, and the sound of it brought a spear of pleasure to my cunt. I drove two fingers back into my wet heat.

  “Tell me exactly what you’ve been doing to your slutty little body while you’ve been thinking of that sick fuck.”

  Did I want to do that? Be totally honest about what I’d been doing? I couldn’t make up my mind, and my mouth engaged before I could stop it. “I have a butt plug in my arse.”

  “Fuck. Christ, Karen.”

  I gave a strained smile at catching him off guard. Of shaking him out of character. He hadn’t expected a response like that. We hadn’t had phone sex in years.

  “What does it feel like? Tell me…whore.”

  The last word was a tag-on, broken in half, and came out croaky. I could imagine him sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders tense, fists balled as the image of me bombarded his mind. His added responsibility of staying in role, drooping his neck and causing him to gnaw on the inside of his cheek the way he did when concentrating.

  “It stings, but I like it.”

  “More. Tell me more.”

  “I have my fingers in my pussy, too. I’m imagining a vibrator in there and your cock in my arse. You fucking me until I scream.” There, I’d said it.

  “Oh, God.” His tone was throttled with lust.

  “Close your eyes, Jacob. I want you to imagine it. Picture me finger-fucking my cunt and moving the butt plug in and out. It…ah…it’s fucking nice. I wish you were here. I wish you were here so badly, doing all of this to me and being that horrible, crazy man.”

  “Believe me, so do I.” I heard him swallow tightly. “But tell me more. I want to hear your voice. Talk dirty to me again, like we did in the hotel room, when I had you against the window. I loved the way you spoke, the words that fell from your mouth.”

  “Why, what was so special about it?”

  “It was so honest. Raw and bare-boned. I need it again. I need that part of you again like I need my next breath.”

  His desperation, his need, seemed to reach through the phone line and cocoon me. I wanted to give him relief and I wanted to give him that part of me. It sounded like he needed both pretty badly.

  “Take your cock out of your pants. Grip it—hard—and hand-fuck yourself. Jerk fast, so your thumb rubs the ridge of the head, and when you move your hand back down, I want you to feel the softness of your bollocks on the side of your hand. Do it, Jacob. Do it now while I fuck both my holes. And speak to me like I’m just a body held captive for your perverse pleasure. Like I was in the alley.”

  “Ah, fuck! You filthy, dirty little bitch. If I had you again in that alley, I’d—”

  “You’d what? Sink your dick inside me? Which hole? Which one do you really want?”

  “I want both. I love your wet pussy, but I want to try your tight arsehole. Yeah, push inside until I can’t push anymore, then pump until the pain goes away and you feel nothing but pure pleasure.”

  He wants the same as me, then.

  “Are you fisting yourself?” I asked, by now jabbing the butt plug in and out, my other hand playing over my clit. That was dangerous territory, as my throbbing bud was just about ready to burst. “Is your cock getting harder the more you play with it?”

  He didn’t answer right away. The sound of his tattered breaths filtered into our room, and a crinkle, perhaps of the quilt or his shirt as he worked himself over.

  “Yes,” he managed, voice tight with lust and his concentration.

  “Good. I’m going to come soon. Come good and hard. Imagine how I smell.”

  “I can smell you. Jesus, yes, I can smell you. Dirty bitch. Dirty…fucking…whore…of a…bitch.”

  His jagged speech turned me on more, and I rubbed my clit, circular movements interspersed with up and down. “God, I’m close. So fucking close.” I thrust the butt plug harder, with faster strokes. “My arsehole’s raw, so damn hot and raw.”

  “Your cunt. How’s your cunt?”

  “Wet. Dripping. I want you inside it. I…ah… God, I can’t—”

  “Come, bitch. Come for me. With me. Ah…uh-uh-uh…”

  He’d reached the point of no return, a long, drawn out groan finishing his stuttered grunts. A garbled sound, one he made in his throat when he came, was drowned out by my sharp cry of pleasure as excitement spiralled in my clit and burst, spreading into my belly, my legs, and deep inside me. My arse clamped the plug hard, and I arched my back, abandoning the toy so I could pinch my nipples at the same time as I rubbed my clit faster, harder.

  I hit the peak, thinking of Jacob doing the same, cum jetting out of him to land on his belly. The way he shunted his hips up with each expulsion, knuckles getting whiter, face screwed up with the intensity of his orgasm. I breathed out moans, my own orgasm fading, heart beating wildly and my legs trembling. My clit was too sensitive to touch now, and I moved my hand, caressing my stomach, then reaching down to take out the plug. It came free
with a lube-wet plop, and I dropped it onto the bed and rolled onto my side, facing the phone.

  Jacob’s breaths joined mine, and for a moment we took the time to calm down from our highs. I wondered what he was thinking as my clit ached and my arsehole stung. Had he come so hard and fast because of lewd thoughts about ramming his cock into my arse?

  I hoped so.

  He spoke then, his voice thick, back to normal. “So, you have another fantasy?”

  “I do. You want to join me in it?”

  “Fuck, yes. But I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “We’ll be careful.”

  “Only if you’re sure?”

  His concern touched me. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  The sky had darkened further by the time we’d finished talking and said goodnight. Stars glittered, easily seen without the hindrance of clouds. I couldn’t see the moon, but the light from it brightened one corner of my view, the colour tinged silvery-blue.

  I wondered if Jacob was still buzzing like me, and whether he stared out of the window at the same scene, wishing he was back here.

  In bed. With me.

  Tonight and tomorrow I would sleep alone, and then he would be home, as would the girls, our lives going back to normal until we made another reservation at a hotel or waited until the dead of night before we fucked. I smiled at the knowledge that our lovemaking had turned such a sharp, beautifully exciting corner, and the road ahead was littered with so many possibilities, so many avenues to explore.

  I could hardly wait.

  Suddenly, our sex life had got one hell of a lot more interesting.

  Chapter Six

  Two weeks later there was still no arse action and I was getting frustrated. Jacob and I had made love only once, missionary, in the still of the night, hoping the girls wouldn’t hear us. One ear on the door and lips pressed tight to muffle moans, we’d barely moved, barely clicked into the lovers we wanted to be. The duvet had been pulled up over his shoulders despite our hot bodies, and I’d been hyper-conscious of the slight squeaks in the mattress.