Mark was an Arts correspondent for a weekly news stand magazine. I was a lawyer with a soft spot for hard men. We met at a charity event.
It could have been the cold white wine that had me planning my conquest as soon as we shook hands, but it's more likely to have been the hard sexy body underneath his loose shirt or the steely blue eyes that undressed me unashamedly as we exchanged our first words.
His hands, his huge weathered hands, made mine seem childlike in size and fragility. Beside this tall manly figure I felt like a teenage girl again.
Fifteen minutes after being introduced I suggested that we could better continue our discussion of the events of the day at my flat, fortunately less than 10 minutes walk away. There was not a lot of conversation as we hurried along the street.
I managed to resist touching him until we had walked into my kitchen, but then I was on him immediately. I cannot explain why, but I just wanted him.
I was running my fingers through his curly gray hair, kissing his weathered lips and face, all the time forcing him backwards toward the sofa. He responded with the same passion, with his vast firm hands gripping my shoulders and taking control of me; he kissed me back with his lips, his tongue and his teeth, and I scrambled to feel his hole body.
As he stumbled and fell back onto the sofa cushions I was on top of him, pulling at his shirt to expose his hard muscled chest and to explore his flesh with my fingers. He was biting at my neck, slipping the shoulders of my dress down, then my bra and then he took my breasts in his hands holding and squeezing my breast flesh then caressing and gently pinching at the nipples.
I just remember a blur of sex and passion and writhing bodies; in moments I had him in my mouth and in minutes his hard cock was in my pussy.
Over the hours that followed I took him again and again in my mouth, wanting to swallow every inch; I took him in my pussy with his rock hard cock slicing into my sopping wet pussy; and I took him in my arse, his long fat cock pushing me open and his hole body fucking deep into me through my tight hole.
The relentless fucking was interspersed sucking, kissing, licking and marked by one climax after another. In Mark I had found some sexual god. In the morning I was exhausted but fantastically satisfied; I felt fabulous.
Over the next three or so weeks I saw Mark five times and each time we had the most amazing sex. On our fifth date, as I lay naked on my bed next to him, cum leaking from my pussy no more than 15 minutes after he had walked through the door, I raised the relationship issue. As it turned out it was not our relationship that would become the issue.
"I wondered if you knew that since we've started spending time together I haven't seen anyone else." I could not look at him as I said it, but I looked up when no reply was offered. He looked back at me knowingly, almost with resignation.
Helpfully in a manly way, he said nothing.
After a pause I said "Well ...., I wondered if we might want to see if we can be, you know, exclusive, for a while, to see how it goes." The silence which filled the room suggested that there might be some doubt arising about our long term future. Mark looked at me.
"Flora we have a fantastic time but I can tell that you and I will never be able to share all of my life."
Here was a man being cruel and dismissive. Astonishingly, as Mark spoke, he was warm and charming; how could he make me feel like he was flattering me as he dismissed me?
I do not beg, and in particular I do not beg for men but for some reason I needed him to want me, even more than I had needed that before.
"What can't I share? Why can't I share it? Mark, I can't think of a single thing that you could not share with me."
Then quickly followed by "Christ it's not illegal is it, because maybe there are some things ....."
"No, it's not illegal, but ....."
I interrupted him "Well that's that. Share."
He paused, touched my face and looked at me, again with that resignation, "Maybe, maybe it will be the sharing that comes between us."
His hands moved to my waist and he pulled me on top of him again so I could feel his already stiff cock nudging my pussy. I slipped back down his body and his cock slipped into me.
"There's nothing between us Mark. What there was between us has just slipped into me." I smiled down at him.
My pussy opened up around his cock and I began to ride it. He reached up and stroked both or my nipples, then kneading them in his fingers, then he pinched them more roughly than he had ever done before. I winced.
"Too hard?" he asked smiling slyly up at me.
"I can take harder" I whispered still fucking myself up and down on his hard rod. He pinched my nipples harder and twisted them. I winced and he saw.
"Harder" I said. I replied again with my pussy, grinding it into his cock and his balls and his pubic hair. He stretched my nipples away from my body pulling me down towards his chest. I resisted at the price of a sharp pain sweeping through my breasts, but it was swamped by a fresh escalation as he pinched the edges in sharp twisting nips. The sensitive flesh was caught hard between his fingernails sending shooting pain through my nipples and breasts I do not know how but I could feel it in my pussy too.
He hurt me but I rose above it, relishing the pain which would have knocked me down if I had not been fucking. I fucked him harder, defiantly, urging him to hurt me and to fuck me.
Suddenly he was behind me and I had been pushed onto my hands and knees. I was empty and aching but only for a moment before I was full again, and he was pumping into me. Mark fucked and fucked me with a relentless rhythm that was driving me on towards orgasm again.
The first slap on my right cheek was another surprise, but I wanted his spunk and nothing was going to come in my way. "Harder" I panted "Hit me harder".
Mark slapped the left cheek.
It stung. My bravado had gone and I realised I did want it harder; I wanted my arse to burn, I wanted to feel it sting and burn.
"Harder. Again. Please".
More slaps fell on my bum cheeks, so they burned and stung and still he pounded into me. There was no warning before my wrists were swept from in front of me, my face was in the bed and my arms behind my back, one huge hand holding both wrists tightly. Still he fucked me. My orgasm had started to build. I moaned louder with each stroke. This spurred Mark on and his pace picked up. As I panted and moaned I could feel his cock swelling in my pussy.
Mark started to come. As I felt the hot spunk squirt, I immediately came myself. As he carried on pounding, my own sticky juice flooded my pussy, mixing with his cum inside me; with each stroke our juice squirted onto the bed, like I was pissing onto my sheets.
For a moment I was not sure where I was or even who I was, I was just something barely conscious being tossed around and from side to side, impaled on a cock.
I collapsed on the bed. Mark finally stopped fucking me, his soft cock slipped out and fell onto my back. My arse stung from the blows. My pussy was stung red and raw from the ferocious pounding. But at least I made him give me his spunk again.
The next morning I thought about what Mark had said. There was no mention of it before he left. I suppose I thought it was kind of swinging stuff or that he had a wife. Maybe he was bi or gay; he loved me playing with his arse. I had imagined I would have had time to drag something more from him, or find out if he was just letting me down gently.
I did not expect the phone call at work later that day. "Do you really want to share?"
"Mark I'm not going to get beaten up by your wife or gang banged by your squash club am I?"
"No." I swear he laughed under his breath. "No. Listen if you want to share, come to my house at eight o'clock tomorrow. And Flora, don't bring any inhibitions."
That's it I thought, it's a gang bang.
The next evening just after 8 I rang Mark's doorbell. I had left work early and spent the afternoon in the bath before choosing my underwear. If I was going to be soaked in cum from 50 strange men I was going to look good while doing it.
Mark opened the door. It was a warm evening and he was wearing loose black shorts and a blue short sleeved shirt which made his eyes more jewel like; God he really had beautiful arms. "Come in. Come upstairs."
I had been to Mark's house once before, only for 15 minutes while he had changed his clothes on an evening we had actually made it out for more than 3o minutes. Now he led me past the drawing room where I had waited for him and then up some stairs and more stairs.
I was terrified but excited. The stairs went on and around until we reached a door. Opening it we moved from a charming London terraced house to a roof top palace of glass and steel; it was completely exposed to the sky under a smoky glass roof and we looked out over the city through huge windows.
There were no squash club buddies. There was not going to be a gay or even straight gang bang. But we were not alone.
In the middle of the vast single room on a circular carpet was a woman resting on her knees with her hands clasped between her thighs.
She was wearing a black rubber mask with dark shining hair in a pony tail sprouting behind her. She had beautiful full rounded breasts and skin that shone in the subdued light. She was naked save some black underwear. Spread out on the floor in front of her like some sort of offering were three black leather whips.
For me standing in the doorway the silence was all encompassing. "So is this your wife?"
"No" said Mark "This is Julia."
We stepped down into the room "Mark that's not answering the question. Is she your mad wife in the attic?"