This story is a sequel to, and features some of the same characters as, “Predator”.
*****
The hotel lift doors had almost closed when Robert stabbed the ‘door open’ button with his index finger and Graham slipped through the gap. Helen stared straight ahead of her in silence, locking her knees in an effort to still the sudden trembling of her legs.
Wordlessly, Robert reached out and pulled his wife towards him by the lapels of her sober, well-cut charcoal coat dress. He unbuttoned it all the way down the front and pushed it off her shoulders so it dropped to the floor and she stood, exposed and vulnerable, in bra, knickers and high black court shoes. He released the front clasp of her black lace bra, which joined her dress on the lift floor, and turned her towards Graham. Her nipples had hardened and darkened involuntarily: partly in reaction to the air conditioning; partly in unwanted excitement.
She couldn’t look into his face; if she did, she would remember what he had done to her last night as she slept.
“Kiss him,” Robert told her.
She didn’t move. It was Graham who closed the gap between them, took her face in his hands and pressed his mouth to hers. Robert moved behind her, sliding his hands from her waist up to her breasts and squeezing, as Graham’s tongue pushed at her lips and she parted hers to admit it. Yesterday, she had turned away in distaste as this man had dry humped another woman against the mirrored wall of this lift. Today, her pelvis fizzed in arousal and she felt her juices flooding her knickers.
When the lift stopped at their floor and Graham turned from her and strode into the hallway without looking back she actually felt disappointed.
What is wrong with me? she thought. That man *raped* me in my sleep. He and my husband, who I have been married to for forty-five years, who should love and cherish and protect me, colluded to anally rape me while I was helpless to do anything about it. Why am I so fucking wet? Why don’t I want him to leave?
Robert retrieved her discarded clothing from the lift floor but didn’t return it to her. She had no choice but to walk down the hall to their room wearing only her sodden knickers and shoes. She tried to do so with her usual stately dignity, but found herself unbalanced and stumbling, silently praying that none of the doors lining the passageway would suddenly swing open. Robert followed her, offering no help, admiring the view. She made it to their bedroom door and preceded him into the room when he inserted the keycard into the lock. She didn’t realise Graham had followed Robert in until she collapsed heavily onto the bed and looked up to find two men smiling down at her.
They sat on either side of her on the edge of the mattress and she shivered, half in trepidation, half in lust, goosebumps rising on her arms as she crossed them over her naked breasts. Robert laughed at her openly. “Darling, he’s seen your tits before.”
She glared at him.
Her anger gave him an incredible sexual frisson which in turn triggered a memory of extraordinary clarity: an image of her naked, sleeping body on this bed the night before, a stack of pillows lifting her arse in the air, being sodomised by each of the men now flanking her. He stood up and undressed swiftly before seizing her wrists, prising her arms from her breasts and pulling her to her feet. He spun her around to face Graham, rolling her knickers down her thighs before holding her hips firmly and pressing his hot, throbbing hard-on into her arse-crack.
“Suck his cock,” he hissed.
Helen was about to make some furious retort when the tip of her husband’s cock nudged at her wet pussy lips and again she felt excitement bubbling between her thighs. Robert’s right, she reflected. That man’s seen my breasts. There’s nothing I have that he hasn’t seen. He’s violated the most intimate parts of my body. She looked straight into Graham’s dark brown eyes and thought, I want his dick in my throat. She bent over from the waist and, still meeting his eyes, unbuckled Graham’s trousers and freed his thick meat. Robert could feel her slick juices running over his own cockhead. As Helen’s fingers ran up the length of Graham’s dick and she sucked it into her mouth, Robert parted her buttocks and slid his prick into her dripping cunt.
He fucked his wife slowly, holding her hips for traction, retracting his cock until only the tip remained inside her, then sliding in balls-deep, shoving her forward so Graham’s cockhead entered her throat. He closed his eyes, savouring the sensation of her hot, wet pussy clutching his dick for several more thrusts, but really wanting to be elsewhere. He rammed his cock to the hilt inside her one more time and then pulled out of her. She tried to look round at him, brow creasing in enquiry, still with her mouth full.
“Don’t stop sucking,” he told her as he disappeared into the shower room.
Seconds later, he emerged, left fist closed, and sat on the bed, back to the headboard. Graham, who seemed to have an instinctive understanding of Robert’s impulses, pulled her into position astride Robert facing her husband’s feet, the soles of her own feet and her palms flat on the mattress. She felt like she was in yoga class, about to assume a crab pose, and stifled a giggle – which turned into a yelp as Robert’s cockhead pushed at her inflamed arsehole.
“Sssssshhhh, take it slow,” he said, and used the handful of hand lotion he had brought in from the bathroom to lubricate his hard-on and her sore hole before guiding the tip of his prick inside her. Gingerly, tense, holding her breath, she lowered herself onto him, her eyes screwed shut, until the ring of muscle stretched and gave and he was fully inside her. She released her breath in a rush and panted nervously until, relaxing, she realised it really didn’t hurt at all. In fact, she thought, it felt *good*.
“OK?” Robert asked, kissing her hot neck, and she nodded.
“Yes, fine.”
Robert cupped her breasts in his hands and lay back on the pillows, pulling her with him, her head resting on his shoulder so she felt his warm, moist breath in her ear, stirring her hair. And then Graham moved between her legs and Robert’s and thrust into her tight, slippery pussy. Robert didn’t move his hips: he just squeezed her tits in his palms, pinching the nipples firmly between his fingers. She gasped and moaned, her pelvis thoroughly stuffed. Graham rocked in and out of her gently and the pulsing, throbbing in her groin escalated. Minutes passed as they fucked her together. She writhed between them, whimpering, as a wave of sensation spread outwards from her core, her inner thighs quivering. Now, Graham’s shaft was coated in her own thick cream when it came into view. Her chest and belly were stippled with a red flush and her breath was ragged. She was unmistakably close to a shuddering orgasm and it was time to remind her, Robert thought, of what was responsible.
“Where’s my cock?” he asked her, his voice in her ear making her jump.
“It’s in -” She trailed off.
He took her jaw in his hand, holding her face still. “Where is it?”
“It’s in my arse,” she whispered, and then she screamed as her pussy contracted violently around Graham’s cock and she came, drenching his distended balls.
They continued to fuck her through her orgasm and beyond as she struggled and thrashed and begged them to stop, her clit engorged and sensitive, her pussy puffy and swollen, the sheets beneath them soaked with her ejaculate. Still they thrust into her, over and over and over, until her pleas were no longer intelligible and she moaned through a second orgasm, and then a third – after which her limp, sated body no longer moved and they saw no point in holding back further, both releasing their loads into her, pumping her pussy and rectum full of semen.
She slept.
. . .
The journey home to Surrey was, for Helen, a special kind of torture. Her clit and labia were swollen and sensitive, hyper-responsive to the vibrating movement of the train, and any jolt reverberated deep inside the inflamed tissue of her rectum.
She tried to focus on her Kindle but Robert, watching her covertly over his reading glasses as he scanned the Telegraph, could see her shifting uncomfortably in her first class seat opposite him.
At one point, she grasped the arm-rests convulsively and winced as the train stuttered and juddered and in bed that night, as he traced circles with his fingers on her abdomen, he asked, “How many times did you cum on the way home?” She wouldn’t answer aloud, but her flushed cheeks and refusal to meet his eye told him he had hit a nerve. He flipped her over onto her tummy and slammed into her from behind.
. . .
The following morning, Robert rose early for a round on the golf course, leaving Helen in bed. He got the drinks in in the clubhouse afterwards and when he returned to the table, Ray was showing Brian the latest batch of saucy photos he’d taken of his wife on his phone. Amanda was a good fifteen years younger than Ray and not unattractive, but the pictures he took of her were pretty dated “Readers’ Wives” style and Robert and Brian joked behind his back about how he was stuck in the eighties.
“How was your ‘mini-break’, Rob?” Ray asked, the inverted commas around ‘mini-break’ clear in his tone of voice, as he put his phone away. Helen, as they all knew, was too classy for your traditional dirty weekend.
Robert hesitated for a second and then got out his iPad.
When the video had stopped playing, Ray and Brian sat in open-mouthed silence for several seconds. At length, Ray asked, “Does she know what you did?”
“Oh yes,” said Robert. “The next morning we fucked her in both holes after breakfast until she came over and over.”
Ray stared. While Helen had always been unfailingly polite to Amanda and him, he had always got the impression that she tolerated them, as Robert’s friends, rather than liked them. She was serene, composed, perhaps a little superior. Seeing her composure smashed was highly erotic and his cock was rock hard as Robert restarted the video. For all Amanda’s willingness to pose for the photos he swore he kept strictly private, she wouldn’t let him fuck her arse and he wanked over anal porn several times a week.
Brian had known Helen for longer. There was more warmth in her attitude towards him and Sonia, with whom she had quite a close friendship. Once, at a Christmas party, he had held a goodnight kiss a little too long, thumbing Helen’s hardening nipple and slipping his tongue between her teeth to taste the Scotch she had over-indulged in before Sonia, laughing, pulled him out to a waiting cab. He had nursed a hard-on all the way home and torn Sonia’s knickers off as soon as they were through their own front door before bending her over the arm of the sofa and fucking her brutally from behind, hissing at her to shut up when she tried to speak, grabbing a handful of her hair and pretending it was Helen’s cunt he was pounding. The next day, Sonia had had coffee with Helen and, he suspected, told her all about it. Since then, Helen avoided being alone with him, whether more afraid of him or herself he didn’t know.
Robert asked, confident of the answer, “Would you two like to fuck her?”
Half an hour later, as he rose to leave, he texted Helen. “On way home via chemist. I’ve arranged a special party tonight x.”
. . .
Freshly bathed and clean, Helen lay on a huge towel on their king size bed. She looked beautiful with her skin damp and flushed, as if she’d just been fucked, and Robert longed to sink his cock into her – but that would have to wait. He spread her legs and applied shaving cream to her mound and pussy lips before shaving her completely bare. His tongue protruded in concentration as he carefully pulled the sensitive skin taut and ran the blade over it. When he was satisfied, he spread lotion over the entire area before telling her to turn over and hold her buttocks apart while he caught any stray hairs around her arsehole.
“Looking forward to having Ray and Brian?” Robert asked her slyly and she squirmed, whimpering. He slapped her arse with a resounding crack.
“Hold still,” he scolded. “I might cut you. What was that?”
“Yes,” she whispered, reluctant and ashamed, and juices escaped from her swelling pussy lips as he watched, corroborating her answer.
Robert applied more lotion to the handprint on her backside and around and inside her little arsehole. Now for the part he’d been looking forward to: the anticipation of which was largely responsible for the impressive erection he’d been sporting for some time. He reached for the paper bag containing the KY jelly and tubing he had picked up on the way home from the golf club.
He plumped up his pillows and pushed them beneath her pelvis to elevate her hips, the action as always now prompting a delicious memory of Birmingham. He hadn’t intended to fuck her now, wanting her to be really tight for his friends, but the urge was overwhelming and a quick glance at the clock showed there was plenty of time for her muscles to recover from the intrusion. He pushed two fingers into her anus and scissored them gently, stretching and opening her, before squeezing a generous blob of KY into the glistening tunnel. She gasped and shook convulsively and he fed his hard meat between her cheeks. She caught her breath and he stopped, waiting for her to stretch to accommodate his girth. Then, to his delighted surprise, she began, unprompted, to push back against his helmet. “Please,” she whispered, “don’t stop.”
Healmost came right then. With a supreme effort of will he thought hard about his tax return until the urgency ebbed and he was able to pull back and thrust into her, his shaft slipping into her depths until his balls slapped against her well-lubricated buttocks.
“What do you want?” he said into her ear.
“Fuck my arse,” she replied. “Please. Fuck me, please.”
He began to move, thrusting in and out of her as she writhed beneath him, matching his thrusts, forcing him deeper inside, moaning in pleasure, until she cried, “Fuck! I’m cumming!” and he came with her, jet after jet of hot semen filling her lower intestine.
He lay on her, spent, for some minutes until she shifted slightly beneath him and the paper bag crackled under their weight, reminding him of what he should have been doing. He dismounted, pulled the bag from beneath her and prepared the enema.
. . .
Helen answered the door, welcoming the two men with a formal smile and an invitation to follow her. At first, Brian thought there was something slightly off about the combination of clothing she was wearing: a summery floral 50s style ruffled halter-dress with black stockings and skyscraper heels. Her outfit made more sense, given the circumstances, when she turned to lead the way to the dining room. The dress was actually a retro apron and she wore nothing else underneath but open-back mesh knickers, the heart-shaped cut-out framing her firm arse-cheeks. Outwardly, her demeanour was no different from other dinner parties they had attended at this house with their own wives in tow: she was statuesque, dignified, a little aloof – but they all knew everything had changed.
When they reached the dining room, she perched on the edge of the polished table, her legs slightly spread, her arms behind her with her hands on the table so her chest was thrust forward. It was warm in the room but her nipples were as hard as bullets, poking through the thin cotton of the apron. She was shivering despite the sheen of perspiration on her forehead.
“Have a seat,” Robert told his friends and they pulled up dining chairs, avidly watching the trembling woman they knew they were there to fuck. Both felt their cocks swell at the thought.
He reached behind his wife’s back, untying the apron and lifting it over her head. Ray noticed the beads of sweat between her full, naked breasts and the glistening juices already coating her inner thighs.
“Turn around,” Robert ordered her and she obeyed, leaning forward and spreading her legs further. Now all three men could smell the musky scent of her arousal.
“Where do you want them to fuck you, darling?” he asked,
Helen reached around with both hands and pulled her buttocks apart to reveal her puckered anus. Brian groaned audibly at the sight.
“You need to say it,” Robert said. “Look him in the face, Helen.”
Helen turned her head to meet Brian’s eyes. His pupils were as dilated as her own and lust punched her in the groin. “Please, Brian,” she said, quietly. “Will you fuck me in the arse?”
He was behind her in an instant, dropping his trousers. Robert barely had time to anoint her arsehole with lubricant before Brian’s cockhead was probing at the tight, brown hole. Her body resisted him but she pushed back, wanting him inside her. Brian opened her passage gradually, inching his way inside her. All the while, she looked into his eyes, her mouth open in an “O” of surprise and need.
“Oh God,” he cried as he breached the tight ring inside her and bottomed out, her hot, tight rectum grasping his shaft. Her back arched and he reached around to cup her breasts in his hands, the erect nipples caught between his fingers.
Her husband was grinning in satisfaction as she mewled in response to the sensations coursing through her quivering body. Ray had stripped off his clothes and was standing with his fat red cock in his hand, waiting his turn with her. “Brian,” Robert said, and his friend paused, opening his eyes. Seeing Ray waiting, he turned Helen a little and she bent at the waist, taking Ray’s dick in her hand and sucking the head into her hot, wet mouth. Brian dug his fingers into her hips and rammed her arsehole as Ray thrust into her throat. Robert, watching, masturbated lazily.
Helen was working hard now, rotating her hips, kneading Ray’s left buttock and stroking his testicles, sucking and slurping. The vibrations of her moans of pleasure as Brian’s dick filled her stimulated Ray’s stiff shaft and he was getting close when Brian stilled and shot his load deep inside her, holding her in place to receive it.
His head was thrown back but when it snapped back upright again he said to Ray, “Swap?” and the two of them switched positions. Ray’s rock hard dick slid easily into Helen’s gaping anus, but her velvety rectum closed around him and clutched at his length as he sank inside. She opened her mouth to swallow Brian’s cock, cleaning it with her eager tongue of the clinging traces of semen, and he was hard again almost immediately. Ray was already close to orgasm after fucking her mouth and within seconds he was filling her with more cum.
. . .
Some time later, Robert, Brian and Helen were in the lounge while Ray fetched beers from the kitchen. Brian, at last fully naked, sat on the sofa, Helen riding him as his cock filled her cunt. She was leaning back slightly so he could suck on her puffy areolae and his palms cupped her butt-cheeks. As Robert watched, her nipple popped from Brian’s mouth and he sought her lips. Her husband’s eyes narrowed as he watched their passionate kissing. This was more than just sex. He grabbed his phone and selected the video function, filming as their tongues danced together. In the unlikely event that Brian should make trouble about giving Sonia to Robert in return this would be excellent leverage, either for persuading Brian to consent or alternatively to show privately to Sonia without his knowledge…
Returning to the room, Ray intervened. “Brian, mate,” he said, “stop hogging the bitch. On the floor!”
Obediently, Brian slid onto the floor, still inside Helen’s pussy. Ray positioned himself behind them and pushed his cock into her still-wet arsehole, while Robert knelt at the other end to take her mouth. Helen, stuffed in every hole, wriggled and squirmed until she could no longer control her body’s response and she submitted to another powerful orgasm, fluid gushing from her.
An hour later, Helen said goodbye to her guests at the open front door, oblivious to the risk of being seen by the neighbours. She was far beyond any such concerns. Her hair was stringy, soaked with sweat. Her mascara streaked her cheeks, washed from her watering eyes as cocks gagged her. She pressed her naked body up against Brian and then Ray as she kissed them and begged them to come back soon, barely able to stand unassisted, so drained was she by the multiple orgasms she had experienced in the last couple of hours. Closing the front door behind them, she returned unsteadily to the lounge, where her husband sprawled naked on the sofa, crawled between his spread legs and lowered her still-hungry mouth to his limp cock.