Tuesday, the heat was close, like an unwanted embrace. Staring at the faded magnolia walls, I wanted to remove more than my single-ply knitted cardigan. I chose it for modesty, and that raised a rueful smile. Fanning myself with paperwork, this white chiffon blouse was too much. Getting dressed this morning, I hesitated between a black brassiere or ivory. Black would give the horny fuckers something to think about; ivory was more in keeping with this carefully maintained persona.

I was the vanilla plain Jane, the single mother and empty nester. Working at the university, I wanted them to think I kept cats for company and remained on the shelf as the woman that could not get a man. My hair was held back in an unflattering loose ponytail; I would never encourage a second look and opted for very little makeup every day.

The airless office was thick with the scents of hot dust, old mahogany furniture and musky books. Tepid air wafted over my flushed face, and I glanced at the clock on the wall. The lazy sweep of the second hand moved as I felt. I loosened a button, and the oscillating fan provided a fleeting respite.

“Jesus, Iona… it’s not meant to be this hot for May.”

That was Bryony, prone to a hot flush at the best of times, the poor thing.

I’d had enough.

“Right, I’m going out for ice lollies and cold drinks. Can I get you anything?”

“A block of ice to sit on.”

We roared. I needed one, too. I carried the satisfying ache from the hard cocks that serviced me well last night.

Tired and sustained only by the fading sexual high, the echo of my court shoes rang out through the stairwell. Each step was bowed slightly by scuffed footsteps and the passage of time. It was cooler here, and a breeze caressed my calves. I should be bare-legged; my customary stockings and suspenders were a habit I could not break. They were a sop to who I was, a clue as the sheer fabric swished with each step. My A-line skirt showed a little of my slender figure, yet flared nicely to present myself as demure and prim.

The brutal sun made my hair hot, and the oppressive heat would not cease. Around me, students lounged under trees, occupying all scraps of shade. A prolonged breeze came to my rescue and soothed my face.

“Morning, Miss,” and some pallid spotty fucker grinned.

First-year students, eighteen, and old enough to know better. Flanked by two gawky, brilliant white creatures, they also leered at me. This was unusual because I did not seek attention; perhaps it was the chiffon, and in this bright light, it might be opaque.

“Missus to you,” my harsh words pulled them up abruptly, "boys...."

One harrumphed, and the other two laughed. I did not break my stride, and they did not see my grin. I was called much worse last night with a hard cock in my drenched cunt. My potty-mouthed retorts were silenced by another stuffed in my mouth.

I should have chosen a black bra and given them something to wank about later. No, there was a dividing line between my not-normal and everyday lives. Vivid images from last night shot to the forefront of my mind, and a quiver of desire trembled through me. It threatened to loosen my gait. I should not indulge it here as a vignette of intense lust. Last night provided a delicious surprise, a diamond in the rough, and he represented an excellent opportunity. It was a unique circumstance seldom available to me, if ever at all.

I knew Jack in a different guise. He was a guilty pleasure, another dirty secret, and the inspiration for many mind-bending masturbatory orgasms. They say that fantasies and reality should never mix, and I snorted at that one as I walked back to the office.

Opening the fridge, I stashed two extra lollies in the icebox for later. We devoured the ones we had; there was no way much would get done today.

Bryony pressed the ice-cold bottle to her temple, “Iona, how many of these application forms are left?”

I looked at them, and my experience made for an educated guess, “About a hundred.”

She sighed in weary resignation and fanned herself with a form, “At this rate, they’ll take the rest of the day. Where’s Debbie?”

Offering a consolatory smile, I shrugged, “I don’t know.”

Bryony was our senior and menopausal. I was heading towards forty, and Debbie had it all ahead of her, a mere babe at twenty-four. A girl-next-door type, a pretty face with a good figure, and an object of lust for these randy students. Not that she gave any quarter, she was engaged to be married later in the summer.

An hour later, we were wilting again. My extension rang, a short chirping sound; it was an internal call.

I picked up, “Hello, Iona Donahue.”

“Debbie?”

There was expectant hope on Bryony’s face.

“Yes, it’s roasting in here.”

“Cromwell? What are you doing there?”

Bryony frowned.

“About a hundred….”

“Yeah, we can carry them.”

Bryony had that matronly quizzical expression that always required an answer.

“Okay, what a great idea! Thanks, Debbie.”

Placing the receiver down, I looked over to my very pink colleague.

“Debbie’s in the computer science lab. They gave her a terminal in the machine hall, and guess what? It’s air-conditioned.”

“The jammy cow!” exclaimed a flushed Bryony with a hint of annoyance.

“Wait… the two lads there have gone to lectures. If you don’t mind the noise, Debbie said she can set us up to input these feckers.”

I brandished a teenager’s hopes and dreams with contempt, “And we can stay there for the rest of the day.”

She gathered her paperwork, and it made whatever she said next rhetorical, “Come on … let’s get going. If we crack on, we can bunk off early.”

= 2 =

I survived Tuesday, sticky and wearied by the heat, and queued for the bus home. For most, Monday is the worst day of the week, but not for me. Watching the orange and cream double-decker lumber towards me, distracting memories raised a winsome smile. How little they would know if anyone looked at me now.

Paying my fare, I opted for the cooler shade and opened windows of the bottom deck. Out of sight, out of mind, anonymous, distant, and gazing at the street as it went by. Just myself, a dreamy smile and my memories.

Last night, I had been there for an hour, watching; it was all I wanted to do. For years I kept my imagination and intentions separate for the sake of my marriage and my children. Whether it was a coincidence or not, the compulsion throbbing inside me swept away these philosophical points. I was not married now, and my children had flown the nest. Some wallow in guilt that pushes such lewd thoughts aside; others cling to the morality that keeps them on the straight and narrow. In my experience, they can be found in private using their fingers to rub it from their bodies – alone.

I was alone in this place, too. My dirty little secret, the swingers' club at the edge of town. A single woman here on a night like this, and you might think it required steely determination to do that. No, it required an unshakeable lust that I had to sate.

Oh, and they considered me something of a regular.

In my experience, a good dancer is a good lover, and these two were no exception. I found them like this in a side room, and their bodies shimmered in the hues of crimson shadow. Leaning against the doorway, I had to watch them. Sizing up the raven-haired man, he was lean, defined, athletic, and handsome enough. He was in charge, and I could tell by how he handled his quarry, a slender, smooth-skinned blonde. So slight against him as a willowy young man, Blonde gazed at me with narrowed eyes and melted to his touch.

Some like to kiss, others choose to refrain, but one thing united them... lust. The allure of joining them gnawed away at my insides as their strong hands tempted each other. Raven had him convinced as I watched their descent into passion. They were both erect, their balls tight, and I watched Blonde’s grasp close over that tumescent shaft. The spectacle and his first groan sizzled through my body as he eased towards the prize. Stroking and licking it, his heavy balls were not neglected.

Watching me with blissful eyes, Raven reached out. I came here to watch men fuck other men, yet the compulsion was too great. I had to join them... I needed to relive the youth taken from me. Blonde glanced up at me as his lips wrapped around that sturdy shaft. I had to touch myself and ignite my lust. Rubbing at the smooth mound of my sex, I smeared its warm juices over my throbbing clit.

Spontaneous acts like this always provided the most intense gratification.

The scarlet satin felt cool and sensual to the touch. What was two became three, and as the Blonde’s lips pleasured that rigid cock, I took his into my mouth. It was fierce in heat and rigidity; it felt so lean and velvety in texture. His appreciative murmur of pleasure was my reward, and quickly, it became an addiction to hear his stifled moans. Looking up, the vision before me was all the inspiration I needed. Raven cradled the back of his head and eased his hard cock back and forth into Blonde’s willing mouth.

Against my lips and tongue, he was fully erect as I caressed his chunky balls. Enlivened by the touch of strange fingers on my satin-clad sex, I turned to look back, stroking Blonde. He was a stocky man with a shaved head and a powerful physique. Reciprocating the wicked curl on his lips, I appreciated a bold and determined man in moments like this. In this low light, the pupils of his eyes were black and filled with a hunger for me. Pulling back my panties, my spine curled to present my ripe arse and the pillows of my juicy cunt; I wanted more than his touch. He was a brute with the touch of an angel, and I murmured for more on Blonde’s tumescent shaft; three were now four.

My excitement was too much, and I knew what would happen now. All rationality would be found back home. My body exhausted, and my mind filled with everything I saw and did. For days afterwards, my libido would be insatiable. A carnal hangover from how fuck-drunk I planned to get. The yearning for that maddening need to climax provided all my motivation now. Raven’s voice had a deep timbre that liquified my insides. Following his assertive instructions, our limbs moved in a shifting kaleidoscope pattern. I lay prone, and my panties disappeared in an arc over his shoulder. I threw my bra in the same direction, reduced to stockings and suspenders.

The stocky man cleaved my sex with his tongue, and his strong hands captured my thighs. Pulling on the back of his head, the thrum of my moans telegraphed through the cock in my mouth. It was Raven’s, a thick, malevolent implement, and I goaded its corpulent head, swirling my tongue around it. Gripping it, the strength of my fingers attuned his thrusts until I relented, and he rifled my mouth.

With a faraway glaze in Raven’s eyes, it revealed no more inhibitions. Blonde’s hand directed his face, and I watched with avid eyes. As his lips closed around that milky white cock, it churned at my insides, and I knew the stout man would notice. Thick fingers entered me, and free limbs started to tangle as we descended deeper and deeper into sexual euphoria. A wet silky mouth took my erect nipple, and the rasp of a rougher tongue flicked on it. A broad hand squeezed my fulsome breast. The slurping sounds of Raven’s mouth on Blonde’s shaft added to the moans. The distant bass of an urgent four-to-the-floor rhythm rattled at the freewheeling tension, and only they would hear my gasps.

I had to take Raven in hand as it barrelled through me. My thumping blood rose, my cotton mouth air-dried, and I had to swallow. It was a conscience effort to think. All I wanted was more from these sexual adventurers, their hands, tongue and fingers. That pulsating arousal had me; it swirled through my insides as hot blood and tingling nerve endings. Raven positioned Blonde on all fours before my eyes and pushed onto his lower back; it curled his spine. As a leonine pose, it was to receive only one thing. To remove all doubt, he peered back and muttered at Raven to fuck him.

Incensed by the spectacle, the lively eel of a tongue flicked on my aching clit. Those dark eyes seemed to smile as the last image I saw when I succumbed to the stout man’s skilful touch. I had to writhe on the eager tongue pressed inside my drenched folds.

Blonde’s eyes latched onto mine, and I watched his handsome features soften; that airy gasp was the heat of taut muscle being stretched. Tinged with a flinch of pain, the sensual whimpers of pleasure rose as the densely packed nerve endings sang with joy. I imagined it was a very snug fit as his meaty tool sawed at Blonde hard enough to make his erection sway.

The tiny explosions like firecrackers animated my hips, delivering a salvo of cramps as a much-needed climax. I was grateful, caressing the soft shaved head of my antagonist. Tenderly, I eased him from my crotch and craved the best view in the house. This posture required a contortionist as I slid underneath him. Wrapping my hands around his meaty erection, I stroked it to distract him from his violation. Ah, the vibrancy of youthful flesh as Blonde’s stiff shaft filled my mouth.

I revelled in this, with my thighs open and naked cunt soaked. I beckoned with my hand for anyone using anything to cure my insanity. Taken by a wrist, my open hand grasped another hard cock, thicker than the one in my mouth; I stroked it too. I wanted more, one in each hand, in my mouth, and fucking my drenched sex. Driving harder, Raven sank every inch into his behind, and those heavy balls slapped against him.

My hot cunt soothed in the cool air, and I hoped it would not be lonely for long. My legs were hoisted, ankles held apart. Four became five, and I reached through the maze of limbs; the stout man was sheathed and ready, and I yearned for him to breach me. Its dimensions had promise as my first of the evening, and it pushed the air from my lungs for a satisfying groan. I could feel every inch slipping against the sensitive, muscular tunnel of my cunt. I wanted it all, up to the hilt, and when it was there, I would squeeze on it, reward it, fuel his ardour to give me the fucking I desperately required. Peering around the tangle of bodies, the stout man pitched up and groaned with his eyes squeezed shut. On his knees, I caught the view in the shadows; he was being fucked too. The groaning and the clash of bodies agitated my body and mind. Entirely inside me, I purred with a nascent moan and kept my promise. There was so little give; still, I bore down on it and grinned at his surprised groan.

We all moved with patience, a sign of our combined experience, each of us determined to extract every heartbeat of pleasure. It was Monday night, and most people might be grateful to survive it. This was our best day of the week. It was easy to be blasé about this, to forget every sight and sound and remember only the sentiments. This was the pinnacle of my sexuality; it occupied my daydreams and fuelled my most intense desires. The sticky sounds of fucking, and the rising heat of male and female musk rose in the sluggish air.

Raven and Blonde peeled from us. Moving to the bassline, I clasped at the stout man’s biceps to brace myself and match the back and forth to fuck him back. Our bodies shimmered in the light and dark of the scarlet gloom. We rode on the tide of sensual energy, a louche rhythm designed to experience everything.

Our symbiotic hips provided a fulfilling pleasure, our eyes met, and he was good-looking, perhaps in his mid-thirties. As a patient missionary fuck, my hands ran over his damp torso, and both thumbs teased his nipples. A thick erection came into view, and we shared it; my hand stroked as his lips locked around its slender head. His assailant was driving harder into him, and I opened my legs wider. An unmistakable invite to have it all and pulled at his behind to offer him up for the same. Either he pushed into me with more purpose, or the man fucking his arse did it for him.

My head lolled to one side, and I felt it pressed to my lips. The zeal of excitement soaked through me, and I sucked on a new cock with a rising eagerness. Unhurried, at the peak of arousal, there was no rush to complete the act. My cunt and mouth rifled, my senses consumed, and all my cares and worries were so far away. The see-saw action of this act, the rising clash of our loins, we mashed together in unison.

Mired with sweat, we skidded and writhed. My breasts pawed, erect nipples plucked; strange hands ranged over my body as I lay prone for them all. Clasping the back of the stout man’s head, he was weakening, and the shoves into his body thrust his shaft deeper into my cunt. My mouth vacated, and I watched as he joined another couple, a man and a woman. Invited to fuck her and suck him, I revelled in their exhibitionism.

Looking beyond them, Blonde had a hard cock at each end as they swooped for each other. The curve and dimensions of the erection in his mouth watered mine too. My lover paused, and another man peered over his shoulder; I knew that look. I never had him as someone that might receive a hard cock up his arse. It was a pleasure to be wrong as I smiled at his faraway gaze.

The moment of penetration churned at my insides, craving to feel those invading thrusts as they telegraphed into me. We searched for that mysterious rhythm, and it required all our experience to find it. Locked onto the slow tempo, the tart clattering of body against body rose as we sandwiched him between us. Feeble groans stiffened into cries, and they fused with ours as our flesh quivered and shook.

From the depths, I felt it rise from ambiguity to certainty in delicious increments. Teetering on edge, I watched Raven’s snorts for air grow, and his passionate shoves slowed as strained muscles tied. Stroked to completion, pearly white seed splashed over his waiting back. The hard cock removed from Blonde’s mouth erupted over his face.

I clasped my lover with my legs, clamouring with rising groans; it peaked, and I begged him to push it in deep. The shudders had me. I stretched out, my back arched, and I implored him not to stop. He took my orgasm as our eyes met; the undulating grasp of his stiff meat forced out his most resounding moans. They thrummed through me as the inspiration for the hard cock in my hand, and he aimed it at my quivering breasts. Warm seed slashed across them as I purred with encouragement. Rabid, I was driven by my tawdry instincts. Pulling on the back of the stout man’s head, I directed him to my sticky breasts, and he nuzzled the cum from my nipples.

Stuttered words gave away his dilemma, just as his body did. His impaler held the stout man’s shaft and aimed it at my panting body. He was bucking hard into him, stroking it. Plosive grunts despatched more hot essence, splashing onto my bare mound and abdomen, squirted in thin ropes as his assailant fucked it loose. Hissed words behind him announced it, and the stout man took his lover’s orgasm in his tightest hole.

As I pried myself from their feeble grasp, they had nothing to thank me for, but they did nonetheless. My weaknesses were laid bare, and I left a trail of carnal destruction in my wake. Retreating to the showers, smiling for them, I chose something enigmatic. They knew I would return for more.

The tinkling bell for the next stop shook me from my daydream. Three more stops and I could sate this gnawing ache. I felt tetchy and fatigued, yet my libido would not quit. I saw him there; it is a small world after all… my neighbour, Jack. I would have missed him if I had looked elsewhere for that split second.

Too young to be so embroiled, he did not see me reclined amongst the tangled bodies. His lower half was obscured, and a woman’s head bobbed up and down, sucking his shaft. In profile, he pulled on a muscular thigh, and his mouth engulfed that rigid cock.

He was a natural.

I wanted to approach on all fours and join the melee. The glimmer in my eyes would make my intentions clear. My gentle hand would keep Jack’s mouth on it. We would share it, suck it, and kiss it. Between us, we would express his seed and share it in a passionate kiss.

Rubbing at my sex, I was the voyeur of his secret passion. At the moment of climax, Jack received it in his mouth.

The bell saved me, and the flames of my unquenched arousal greased my gait. I rounded the corner to our cul-de-sac of modest two-up, two-down houses, and the sight stole my breath.

Jack, washing his car, the fixation of all my newfound desires. Sun-kissed, he carried his musculature well with the supple agility of a cat. I knew he was a good dancer. Shaking off my weariness, this view emboldened my footsteps. I might be the innocuous plain Jane, but now I prowled like a tigress. He spied me and acknowledged my presence with all the earnestness of youth. I would free him of those shackles forever.

“Hello, Mrs. Donahue.”

His handsome features were illuminated by such a welcoming smile; I could not help my reaction.

“Iona,” I purred, “please.”

“Iona,” and his deep timbre added fuel to the flames.

“On your lonesome tonight, Jack?”

“And every night,” he added.

“Well, I’ve made a lasagne. There’s enough for two if you are interested?”

It hung there, what was unsaid, painted onto my face as the unrequited whore I tried to hide. Stunned at first, his throat hitched, and I blazed into his eyes with a promise he would never forget.

Dropping the sponge into the foamy bucket, the froth slopped over the edge. Just as his milk would boil over in my insatiable cunt tonight.