=

1: Angelica

=

“Come and meet my boyfriend; he will give you a tour, and you can get to meet the team.”

Stefan needed no encouragement; he has been a rugby union fan since childhood, a club supporter, and is a regular at home games.

I took a lot of care with my outfit.

After the hot time in the caravan with Kirsten, I could not be sure whether sex was on the menu. I might meet club officials and, heaven forbid, their wives, so my outerwear could not be tarty in any way.

I started with a full-length, open-crotch bodystocking with shoulder straps, fishnet legs, and a mesh see-through panel set down my front—no bra and no knickers.

My boobs were free but restrained from obvious swinging as I walked. If Kirsten had sex in mind, once I had stripped down to this, my body was ready for anything.

Sexy underneath, with carefully chosen outerwear of a black skirt with a side slit, complemented with a black satin blouse. The final touch: my favourite black suede boots.

Just right—sexy, not tarty, but not prudish either.

=

Stefan drove our car through the entrance gate to the rugby team’s ground, exactly at the time Kirsten had told us to arrive.

I scanned the empty car park.

“There she is!”

I pointed to her for Stefan, and he drove across, parking in a slot next to where Kirsten stood.

On the tarmac, I embraced her in a tight hug, with a fairly quick touching of our lips. Her taste and smell were still familiar to me from our lovemaking in her caravan. Stefan walked around the car and followed my example with a hug, but his kiss lingered, and I was sure their tongues were linked in her mouth. Perhaps I was a bit jealous, and I regretted not giving her a sloppy wet kiss when I had the chance.

We walked into the adjacent building and entered a neat reception area. I thought stadia were supposed to be quite basic, but this seemed like any front office.

In the centre of the room stood a man—a very tall man, an exceedingly handsome man. His short-sleeved shirt showed off bulging muscles that rippled as he extended his hand in greeting.

"Guys, this is my boyfriend, Jules.”

He smiled and shook hands with Stefan. Then he turned to me. His jet-black eyes bored into mine, and I felt my knees turn to jelly. Then he took my hand in his and lifted it to his lips, a gentle wetness brushing my skin. I looked up at him and saw that my pale flesh looked incredibly delicate against his dark skin, completely encased in his huge hand.

Stefan interrupted my reverie. “Jules is one of our prop forwards.”

"Indeed, I am, ma’am.”

“Are you American, Jules? I didn’t think rugger is a big sport in the US.”

“No, I’m Canadian, from Winnipeg. My parents moved to the UK when I was twelve, and I took up rugby as the closest thing to American football I could play here. And now I am playing for a Premiership team.”

Kirsten interrupted him.

“Jules will look after you, Angelica, while I take Stefan for a special treat.”

She took his hand, and the two of them disappeared through a side door.

“We are going upstairs, my angel.”

I smiled inside; this man was something special.

On the upper floor, we walked through a double door and entered a large room, one side of which was glazed roof to floor. Jules led me over, and I gasped as the view unfolded. We were above the goalposts at one end of the stadium, with a perfect view of the pitch. The main stand was to our right; a low, covered standing area along the left side; and a big seated stand at the far end.

“Oh, wow, Jules, this is incredible.”

“This is the members’ lounge and bar, always full on match days. Today it’s as quiet as a church.”

He pointed to one of a line of sofas just behind us.

“Please sit down.”

I sank into the soft leather. Jules sat on the adjacent cushion, then turned to face me and, for the second time, took my hand in his.

“You are very beautiful, my angel.”

I was locked into his eyes. No man had ever called me Angel, let alone the possessive 'My Angel'.

"Please, can I kiss you just once?"

How could I resist?

“Yes, Jules, just once.”

We moved closer, with his head tilted down and mine tilted back. His lips touched mine, and it was as if an electric bolt coursed through my body. His odour enveloped me, and I pushed my tongue out, just enough to slip between his lips. Jules needed no more encouragement, and his tongue pushed deep into my mouth in response. His great hand wrapped across my back. pulling me tight against him.

I was lost in lust, my hand pressed into his thigh, circling, feeling his muscular frame beneath his clothes.

The once-only kiss went on and on until he released his grip on me and backed away.

“Angel, we have to break for a while. My teammates are coming to meet you very soon.”

I sat up, just before a raucous group of men came barging in the same doors we had used before.

There was a mix of skin colours and voice accents, but there was one common theme. Every one of them was very muscular.

“Hi everyone, come and meet Angel.”

I stood and shook hands with each man, and I received a peck on the cheek in return. Jules pointed out each in turn and told me their names and playing positions. Two stood out; Billy, the second tallest after Jules, was the other prop forward. Étienne, who was very stocky and quite a bit shorter than the two props, was the hooker.

“Billy is from South Africa; he has played for the ‘Boks. Étienne is naturalised French now, but his family still lives in Senegal. We call him Hosepipe.”

“Why Hosepipe.”

“We are an international team, but in the tradition of British sport, everyone on the team has a nickname. Billy is Bok, I am Winnie, and Hosepipe is, well, just a crude dressing room joke.”

Jules took my hand and pulled me up.

“Come to the bar; I’ll buy you a drink.”

One of the team members acted as the barman; most chose soft drinks. I was surprised at this.

“I thought you rugby players were big beer drinkers.”

“Not at our level. Alcohol is a disaster for fitness and concentration, and we have a match tomorrow afternoon. But that doesn't stop you from indulging. So what’s your poison, Angel?"

I looked along the well-stocked shelves.

“Gin and tonic, please, with ice.”

Carrying our drinks, we went back to the sofa and sat quite prim and proper, chatting in a small group with Bok and Hosepipe.

“Does it mean working together in the front row makes you socialise together?”

“Sometimes.”

Gradually, the other players left, and the four of us were alone. After a while, I glanced back and saw Bok and Hosepipe had drifted over to the bar with their backs to us.

I turned to face Jules, and for the third time, he took my hand in his.

“You are very beautiful, my Angel.”

I was locked into his eyes. Everything inside of me was churning; I could feel the dampness between my legs. I wanted him desperately.

"Please, can I kiss you just once more?"

How could I resist?

“Yes, Jules, just once more.”

He stood close in front of me, then lifted his shirt over his head in one swift movement. I gasped at the beauty of him. Black tattoos snaked around his upper body and arms; he looked so powerful, with hard muscles everywhere—a man beyond my wildest dreams who was standing a hand’s width away. I did not give a moment’s thought as to why he wanted to make love to me, a slightly podgy sixty-year-old, forty years older than, and almost the polar opposite of, Kirsten, his teenage girlfriend.

He leaned in and brushed his lips on mine. Just like before, the kiss was very long. I did not want it to end, and this time his hands were constantly wandering over my back, and I was becoming very aroused. He leaned against me, and his weight pushed me down, flat on the soft cushions.

My hands pressed his face against mine. I was lost; caution and restraint were thrown away, so when his big hand pressed into my crotch, I accepted what was about to happen and did not resist when he slid under my skirt and pulled the hem up to my waist. He realised there were no knickers to slow his progress, so he grasped his opportunity, pressing his thumb against my wet pussy lips.

= 

2: Stefan

=

Kirsten led me out of the reception area, through a door that led to a passageway that seemed to run the length of the building. For a moment, I thought about Angie’s reaction when she was introduced to that huge black man. I know her so well that I can read her face like an open book. She was smitten, almost simpering, as he took her hand in his great paw and lifted it to his lips.

We were nearly at the end of the passage when Kirsten stopped by what appeared to be the last side door. I saw she was holding a key in her hand, which she pushed into the lock, then turned it and pushed down on the door handle. I heard the tumblers drop as the door drifted open; the crack gave nothing away as to what the room was.

“It’s time for your surprise, auld gadgie, but you need to wear this before we go in.”

She held up an airline-style blindfold, then lifted it over my head and lowered it until my eyes were completely covered. She checked that the elastic strap fully circled my head, and after a few adjustments, I felt her fingers pressing the material into my eyes, making sure I was completely isolated from any vision.

“Gud, Stefan, I’m behind you now. Hold your arms back on each side, and I will take your hands and guide you in.”

I followed her instructions, then felt her hands link to mine.”

“Go ahead.”

I started to shuffle forward, her hands pulling gently to guide me left or right.

“Stop, noo.”

“Turn right, ninety degrees.”

Kirsten let go of my hands, and I stood there, still and silent, waiting for her.

“Reach back for my hands.”

I felt her fingers explore my palm, and then trace a track to my wrists. Then there was a feeling of something cold on my wrists. And in a trice, two metallic clicks. She had cuffed me.

“Your special treat is about to start. Just remember what I told you the first time we were together. I am a slut, but you dinae fuck me then. I took you ‘cus I am an insatiable, nasty bitch. You are going to find out just how nasty I can be today.”

Kirsten ripped the blindfold off my head, and then a strong light blinded me for a few seconds. As my eyesight recovered, I found I was looking directly at a large video screen, about a metre away.

“There’s a steel pole behind ye; lean on it if you want.”

She stood in front of me and reached down to unbuckle my trousers, then unzipped and pulled them down to my ankles, together with my underpants.

Her fingers played with my soft cock, which rapidly hardened to a full erection.

“So, you want yer slut again?”

Half question, half statement. I did not answer; my erection was all that she needed. She dropped to her knees and leaned towards me. I felt the soft touch of her lips on the tip of my cock, then the enveloping warmth of her mouth.

During this, I paid little attention to the screen, but as she sucked, I looked up and saw there was some movement there. I realised I was looking at a man’s back, his ebony skin filling most of the space. But underneath him, I could see pale female flesh, pale arms linked across his back, and pale legs in black suede boots scissored over his thighs. But one other thing caught my eye: her left ring finger and her wedding band. It was instantly recognisable. The woman underneath him was my wife.

“Kirsten, I’m not happy with this; I want to be with Angie.”

“Tough shite, you are mine. She is theirs; that’s how it is today, gadgie.”

I watched him thrust into my wife, and I could clearly hear her laboured breaths, her groans, and her whispered encouragement.

Kirsten stood up, one hand on my erect shaft. She pushed and pulled my foreskin for a few strokes, then let go and stood back beside the video screen.

“Ye can have a braw time watching her enjoy herself. But your fun is totally up to me. I will decide if and when you can cum, so be nice to me.”

It seemed I had no choice, so I relaxed and watched the video stream.

=

3: Angelica

=

It all happened so fast. One moment he was rubbing my clit, the next he was on top of me with his cock in my cunt, and I was groaning at him to go deeper and faster. He obliged on the first but kept to a steady and slow fucking pace. I was loving it; every stroke slid across my clit. The sensation was enough to keep me fully aroused, but not quite sufficient to take me over the edge.

All the time, he was kissing me, murmuring soft words in my ear. I had my arms over his back, feeling his soft skin under my fingertips. My legs were crossed over his, and the shape of my body increased his penetration. Suddenly he lifted me off the cushions, one great hand supporting my back, and slewed my body around a little. As I settled back onto the sofa, my head, no longer supported, dropped over the edge. Instead of Jules' face, I was looking at a very long, black cock.

Its owner’s hand was gently rubbing along the shaft, and as I watched, it grew and grew in length, though very little in girth. There was a coarse chuckle from Jules.

“Now you know why we call him Hosepipe.”

I watched it approach my mouth and felt the tip push against my lips.

“Open wide, Angel.”

I yielded to the pressure, and it slid in. The head reached the back of my mouth, and then he pushed in hard, his body pressing against my face, and somewhere deep in my throat was the tip.

My body fought the intrusion; I was gagging hard, but there was no way through the blockage. Then he withdrew. I belched, and I felt bile fill my mouth and flow out, running down my cheeks and into my hair.

“I don’t think Angel can take that again, Hosepipe.”

“Yeh, OK, Winnie, I’ll go down the other end.”

Once more, I felt Jules lift my body while his hard cock stayed in me. This time, he flipped us over, so I was laid on top of him. A tumbler of water appeared in front of my face and was proffered to me to drink. I took it all, gulping the contents and washing away the vile taste in my mouth.

The glass disappeared and was replaced by a new, engorged, black cock. This one had a huge girth but didn’t look too long. As it was pressed against my lips, I felt my jaw bones being pushed far apart, and once its owner felt he was set up, it started to pump in and out.

Two holes filled, Jules still gently fucking my pussy, and the new cock fucking my mouth. Very nice; I was more than happy being used like that.

Then I felt two hands pressing on my bottom, pulling my cheeks apart before something was pressed against my sphincter.

Jules, below me, whispered, “Angel, Hosepipe wants to fill you. Just relax; he’s well-oiled and well-practised.”

Peering around the cock in my mouth, I tried to shake my head to show I was a little scared. Stefan had tried to go there before, but I found it too painful, and we did not do it again.

“It’s all length; I promise you will enjoy him.”

It was too late anyway. I felt him press against me, and then there was a sharp pain. Once he was inside, the pain subsided, and all I could feel was the endless length of that cock pushing deeper into my body.

Three holes filled, three black cocks, each one fucking me in a different way. As my ass was filled and emptied, I could feel the flesh of my vaginal entrance being pulled up and down Jules’ shaft, then Jules’ head would bump against Hosepipe when he thrust in, and each time they connected like this, I experienced waves of pleasure inside me.

Jules made more of an effort to ride my clit, and my body responded. I felt my hips flexing as my need increased, my hands becoming rigid like claws, and my fingers scratching over Jules’ back.

Fireworks could not describe my orgasm; I would have screamed the place down if my mouth had not been stuffed full of cock, pounding me hard.

Then I heard a new voice; it sounded like Bok.

“Oh, min, I’m gonna cum.”

The oral fuck increased in speed and depth until it exploded inside my mouth. The thrusting movement stopped and was replaced by a furious twitching as his muscles expelled his seed, jetting across my tongue and down my throat. I gobbled the liquid avariciously, my need to be fed almost as great as his need to ejaculate.

I could hear Hospipe’s laboured breathing as he thrust deep into my anus, time and time again. Then there was a change; his thrusts became shorter and quicker.

“O, Marie, mère de Jésus.”

He plunged deep into me, his long cock pulsating wildly at my sphincters, the only points where I had any sensitivity.

“Aaaaaahh.”

He collapsed onto my back, panting from the exhaustion of his orgasm. Pinned beneath him, I couldn’t move, but somehow Jules was still gently fucking my vagina.

Then, I felt my hair being pulled and my head lifted by powerful hands. Another cock filled my vision; this one was pale and circumcised. Its purple head was moving towards my mouth.

I opened up, knowing I had no real choice; I was the squad’s cum slut. The whole team was going to have me, one way or another. I was no more than a set of holes, ready to be filled or sprayed with their semen.

Hosepipe climbed off me, and I felt his cum run out and down towards Jules’ cock embedded in me. Jules lifted me off the sofa, standing with me wrapped around his body as he continued his slow, methodical fucking of my pussy. The guy with the purple-headed cock looked a bit miffed.

Jules turned to speak to him. “You’ll get your chance.”

Peering over Jules’ shoulder, I glanced around the room. Hospeipe and Bok were sitting on another sofa, enjoying a drink. Their flaccid cocks still laying across their thighs. Standing around me, there was a large group of men; I recognised most of them from the introductions earlier. One had a mobile phone in his hand. I blew him a kiss, something special for his enjoyment later.

Then Jules set me down, sitting upright on the sofa, and for the first time, his cock slid out of my pussy.

He leaned down and kissed me on the lips, and then I felt his hands grasp my blouse collar on each side, and with one huge effort, he ripped it apart, buttons flying off everywhere.

There was a gasp from the assembled group. Underneath, there was only my black bodystocking. Then he grasped each shoulder strap in turn and ripped them apart too, before pulling the flimsy material down to expose my breasts. Kneeling on the floor in front of me, he sucked each nipple in turn, rolling each between his fingers, increasing my sensitivity. Finally, he kissed me on the lips and pushed his tongue inside my mouth while lining up his hips to resume our intercourse.

In this position, he was able to push a hand between our bodies and rub my clit with his fingers. I was in heaven, and I came again almost immediately.

I felt the presence of other men close to me, and out of the corner of my eyes, I could see one masturbating his cock, his fantasies being fuelled by watching Jules fuck me. He kneeled next to me on the cushion, then increased the speed of his hand until he grunted and the cum lept from his cock, arcing across to my face. A blob landed on my eyelid, more on my cheek, and some on the remnants of my blouse.

I sensed him move away, then the cushions were squashed again, and I felt the vibrations of another cock being hammered over me until another load of cum splashed my hair, face, and shoulders.

They patiently waited for their turn. One after the other, they frotted over me, and semen splashed across my head, my face, and my body. One or two turned my head and fucked my mouth while they wanked, their cum landing on my lips and tongue. I swallowed every drop greedily while they played with themselves.

Jules kept up his steady thrusting, constantly fingering my clitty. My eyes were shut tight, covered in cum. Jules’ fucking and fingering gave me a constant sequence of orgasms; I had no notion of the passage of time or how many times I had thrust and squirmed in ultimate pleasure. But there was not an inexhaustible supply of cocks in the room, and the time arrived when I realised there were no more sounds of masturbation. It was just me and Jules.

=

4: Stefan

=

Kirsten pulled a swivel chair from behind the screen, then sat down, her legs splayed out in front of me, her skirt stretched wide, and her pussy open and inviting—if I had been able to move. She started to play with herself, wetting her fingers in her mouth before pushing the same slimy digits between her pussy lips.

On the screen, I saw a black, long cock being pushed inside Angelica’s mouth, then thrust deep inside her. The head travelled into her throat, its bulge punching the flesh of her neck out. I heard my wife gagging and watched her body convulsing as she fought against the intrusion.

“Please, please, Kirsten, stop him.”

She stood up, walked to me, and then pumped my cock a few times.

“Yer still hard, gadgie, so you must be enjoying it. She’s their toy; it’s her fantasy.”

Kirsten sat down again and opened her legs again. This time, she had a dildo in her hand. I watched fascinated as she pushed the hard shaft into her cunt and started to pump herself vigorously.

My cock was straining at the sight and the sounds of her self-pleasuring. Then my attention went back to the screen, where the camera was focused on Angelica’s buttocks. I could see the black giant’s cock sliding in and out of her cunt, glistening with her juices. Then a second black cock came into view, held by its owner’s hand, guided to her other bodily entrance. It hovered there for a few seconds, then was pushed in, and a seemingly endless length disappeared inside her.

I heard Angie’s cry of pain, and my heart sank.

“Ye think she dinna like that.”

Transfixed by the screen, I had not realised Kirsten was standing beside me. Once more, she started to work my hard cock, and then I felt something behind me, pushing against my anus. She smiled, a wicked, superior look, then pressed home the same dildo that had been in her pussy a few seconds before.

I cried out in pain, just as my wife had; then the pain subsided, and I was left with a feeling of fullness as she pumped it in and out. Her other hand continued to wank my cock. For the first time, I realised I both wanted and needed release.

“I want to cum; please let me cum.”

With that, she immediately withdrew the dildo and let go of my hard, desperate shaft.

“Do you know what edging is?"

I nodded.

“Gud, I love edging a cock because I love the feeling of power. Hearing a man pleading with me for release is erotic heaven for me.”

She went back to her chair, rubbing her clitoral area, eyes closed, and breathing hard.

My attention went back to the screen, where the black cock in Angelica’s anus pulled out, leaving a perfectly round hole that disappeared into the depths of her body. Gradually, her sphincter closed up, ejecting a stream of white cum that flowed over the rim, dribbling down to settle on the shaft that was pumping her pussy.

The lens travelled up her back, then settled on her face, wrinkled and distorted by a very thick cock fucking her mouth. I heard a man shout that he was about to cum, followed by a stilling of the shaft in my wife’s mouth. Then I watched it pulsate as he unloaded his cum in Angie’s mouth.

Her throat muscles flexed as she tried to swallow the flowing semen, and the tears rolling from her eyes displayed the effort involved in swallowing and breathing at the same time as the thick, engorged shaft filled her mouth.

The black cock withdrew from her mouth, and then a stiff white shaft replaced it, giving her another harsh pounding. The camera pulled back and showed several men standing and masturbating. One came over her hair and eyes, another on her fancy boots.

There was a deep grunting in my room. Kirsten had taken herself over the edge and was thrashing around in the chair.

“Time for you, gadgie.”

She came to me, grasped my hard cock, and started to wank me. I was ready; in fact, I had been ready for quite some time.

Kirsten lowered herself to her knees, then swallowed me whole. Her face pushed against my flesh. Glug, glug, glug. She threw herself into taking me towards my edge, and as I looked down on her head, I saw an arm frantically flapping around as she frigged herself. I felt my cum racing up my shaft, and then I exploded in her mouth, screaming in ecstasy, just before she reached another climax, sucking my cock as if nothing else mattered.

Panting, I sank to my knees, and the cuffs pulled my arms back so far that I felt they would dislocate. I heard Kirsten behind me, then two clicks as she unlocked the cuffs. Too weak to enjoy my freedom, I rolled on my side, curled in a foetal ball, trying to make sense of all I had seen and experienced that day.

=

5: Angelica

=

How had Jules kept his final pleasure suppressed for so long? I will never know, because when he finally picked up the pace and went into his joystrokes, I was spaced out in ecstasy.

I felt his cock pulsating in my cunt, and I knew that I could give him one final treat. I clamped my vaginal muscles on him. He roared in pleasure, a magnificent masculine sound that acted as a huge erotic stimulus for me. I felt my body vibrating, every muscle in tension, and then I let go.

He finally withdrew from me, and then he kissed my lips gently.

“Goodbye, my Angel.”

He was no longer there, but I was in orgasm. I felt my whole body jerking and thrusting, the spasms wracking every part of me. When I finally quietened and my breathing returned to something like normal, I found a loose part of my blouse and used it to wipe the pools of semen from my eyes.

Shakily I stood up and looked around the room. I was alone. Then I looked out of the great glass wall at the stadium. Below me, on the pitch, was a group of about half a dozen people, probably groundstaff, waving and clapping at me.

I leaned against the window, holding myself with one cummy palm flat against the cool surface. With my other hand, I frigged myself to a final orgasm, and as it wracked my body, I slipped to my knees, leaving a slimy trail down the glass as my hand descended. One of the group was a chubby young woman. I watched as she pushed her hand inside her tracksuit trousers and masturbated herself in front of me until she collapsed on the grass, her body shaking.

I blew them a kiss, then looked around for my handbag, sitting happily at the end of the sofa.

I glanced down at my body, my boobs hanging over the remains of my bodystocking. I pulled it up as far as I could, the thin material just about held in place by my breasts. Everything was covered in semen stains, even my beautiful boots.

Then I wrapped the remnants of my blouse around my upper body, pulled my skirt down to its normal position, walked unsteadily out of the room, and went downstairs to reception.

I saw Stefan there, and I looked down at him, staring up at me. He seemed to be in shock, his mouth moving, but no words came out.

I had had an experience beyond the ken of most women. For once in my life, I felt no need to explain myself to him, to chatter, or to communicate. So I said nothing—not there, not in the car, not in the shower, not in bed. Tomorrow will come, and then we will talk.

=

6: Aftermath: Stefan

=

I gradually came back to reality and staggered up on my feet. The screen was blank, I felt we were done, and I pulled my pants and trousers back to my waist. Kirsten was sitting in her chair, watching my progress.

“It’s time to meet yer wifie again."

She led me back to the reception area. My mind was in a whirl. I had just watched my wife assaulted in a gang bang; every one of her holes penetrated, and spunk sprayed over her tits, her face, and her hair. But she said she wanted it; she had told me it was her secret fantasy.

“Adieu, auld yin. She will be here shortly.”

Kirsten walked back through the door we had used to enter. Adieu? That sounded so final; why did she say that?

I heard footsteps on the stairs and looked up to see Angelica staggering down the steps. She looked like a mess, quite different from the mess one gets into when gardening or cleaning the house. Her clothes were askew and ripped, her makeup was smudged, her mascara ran down her cheeks, and her body stocking was torn to shreds.

I looked into her eyes; they seemed vacant as if she were in a different place.

“Let’s go, love.”

We walked out to our car. I blipped the key, and she got into the passenger seat. Not a word passed between us. Inside, I closed my door and was assailed by a combined stench of sweat, bile, and semen.

At home, we went straight to the shower together. I soaped her down and cleansed her whole body of the stink and mess. Afterwards, we lay on our bed, and then she snuggled up to me, and we fell into a deep sleep. Still, she said nothing—nothing at all.

The next morning, I woke up early, disentangled myself from Angelica, and went downstairs to make two cups of tea. On my way back, I saw a small object on the doormat, and I bent down to pick it up. I examined the plastic case, understanding both what it was and the probable consequences for us.

I returned to the lounge, picked up my laptop, and then sat in an armchair before booting the device and inserting the memory stick I had found.

On it was the whole session; the video feed I had been watching on that monitor cuffed to the pole in that room. Everything she had experienced—sounds and sights—in glorious technicolour. There was no sexual reaction from my body; my only arousal was fear and anxiety.

I sat there, skipping through most of the contents but counting the bodies as I went. Fifteen of them. Fifteen is the full squad for a rugby team.

The tea I had brewed earlier was cold, so I reboiled the kettle and made two new cups before climbing the stairs and entering our bedroom.

I woke her gently, then let her drink the hot beverage before I started to tell her how our lives were about to undergo a dramatic change.

=

7: Postscript: Angelica

=

Sitting at my favourite spot in the Lost Gardens of Heligan, on a wood bench in deep shade, overlooking a small pond, I find it hard to believe the upheaval my slutty gang bang caused to our lives. I watch dragonflies flit across the surface, looking for a mate in the two weeks of free life they finally earn, their iridescent blue wings glinting in the dappled sunlight.

Stefan has gone to Falmouth on his monthly trip to visit our solicitors to pick up the redirected post from our old home. He drives to Saint Mawes, takes the foot ferry across the harbour, walks into town, and reverses each stage to come back to Mevagissy. He is careful all the time not to let anyone follow him back. We are not neurotic; we are just careful.

In hindsight, the move was the best thing we could have done. We have always loved the village and its steep streets running down to the harbour. Our house looks out over fields across the lane in front, and from the garden, we can see the deep blue sea on a fine day. Our local friends have helped us find a place in a new social set, and we swing together regularly.

My desire to be a filthy, slutty whore has evaporated; life is good, and no man is ever going to call me Angel again, except one, should we ever meet. Could I do it? A shiver passed through my body at the thought of his power being exercised inside my cunt. Thirty years my junior, could I hold on to him for more than a few fleeting minutes?

Watching a dragonfly in its aerial dance, the desperate need to find a mate provided me with the answer. My mating days had passed; it was time to relax. Turning the clock back was futile. Relax, Angelica, relax, and chill.