Little Lucy and the Big Bad Wolf

*The penultimate chapter. Contains a watersports sex scene before a cliffhanger which will lead us nicely into the final part where the characters will meet their destiny. Comments are welcome, as always.

*

The sensation of sunlight struck her cheek and Lucy slowly opened her eyes. With a sluggish stretch of her limbs she spread herself across the white sheets of Richard's enormous bed and realised he was no longer by her side. The salty smell of bacon drifted up from the floor below, however, and she was reassured.

She slipped her naked body out from under the plush duvet and, finding a warm, soft bathrobe at the foot of the bed, shrugged it on and made her way downstairs.

She found him in the kitchen poaching eggs and mixing béarnaise sauce in a pan, his back to her, clad in a matching bathrobe. She tip-toed up to him and slipped her arms around his waist.

"Good morning, handsome," she said and kissed his neck.

"Hello there, my little girl," he responded, "I hope you like eggs Benedict."

"I don't think I've ever had them."

"Then you're in for a treat. Take a seat."

He gestured to a stool which stood before a wing of the kitchen tabletops and she slipped herself onto it as he served up the indulgent food.

She found she was famished and greedily gobbled down the breakfast he had prepared, the taste of the food almost as good as the sex of the night before. He watched her as he ate his own breakfast and laughed.

"I take it you like it? My dad always said that you should either learn to play an instrument or become a good cook if you want to impress a lady."

She swallowed the last bite of bacon and smiled.

"Your food isn't the only way you impress."

He leant forward over the tabletop and kissed her.

"Seriously though, do you want to know why you're so amazing?" she asked.

"Oh dear, I think I may be sick," he laughed.

"Because you devote all your attentions to the other person. You focus entirely on my pleasure, my satisfaction."

"It's what turns me on, I suppose; what makes ME satisfied."

"Your wife didn't know how lucky she was," she sighed.

He looked away and she immediately felt guilty.

"Shit. I'm sorry; I wasn't thinking."

"No," he met her eyes again, "It's okay."

He placed his cutlery on the plate before him.

"Well," she spoke, "I need a shower."

He stood up and held out his hand, "Come on, I'll show you how it works."

She slipped her fingers between his and let him guide her from the room.

He led her upstairs and into a marble-tiled bathroom that matched the opulence of the rest of his house. There was a large walk-in shower beside a giant bath inlaid with Jacuzzi jets. The shining walls were lit by a circular window of frosted glass and Lucy could feel warmth through the tiles at her feet.

"Under floor heating," he told her with a wink and stepped over to the shower.

He was in full teacher mode, demonstrating the mechanism of his shower, and she smiled at his well-meant patronising. She slipped her fingers into the belt at her waist and let the dark blue robe fall from her naked body.

"Actually," she interrupted him, "I think I need the toilet first."

"Oh, okay, I'll go and tidy up," he answered and made for the door.

"No," her words stopped him, "Stay."

She walked over to the toilet and sat herself down on the white plastic seat. She spread her legs a little to afford him a view of her pussy and placed her hands on her knees. He stood by the door, watching her intently; their eyes met and they held each other's gaze.

She exhaled lightly, relaxed her muscles and a trickle of pee ran out from between her labia and tinkled into the water beneath her backside. She smiled at her accomplishment and placed a little effort behind her voiding. The trickle became a jet and Richard regarded the spray of piss which shot down from her vagina with that familiar curling of his lip. Lucy grinned and ran her fingernails up her thighs as she performed that private act for him to watch.

She let the jets of pee subside until a last trickle fell from her pussy lips but she was not yet totally relieved; she held some back for later. Richard stepped over to her and she saw that his erection had emerged from the front of his robe. She took it in her hand and leant forward to lick and kiss its head.

"I need to go too," he sighed above her.

She sat back against the cold toilet cistern and stroked her hands over her breasts.

"Then go," she ordered.

She took hold of her left breast and squeezed, slipping her right hand down between her legs to fondle her moist pussy. Taking his cock in hand, Richard caressed himself and directed it at her chest. His eyes closed as he concentrated on willing himself to urinate.

Then, suddenly, Lucy gasped as his hot piss shot onto her breasts, splashing droplets onto her neck and cheeks. It was warm and clear and ran down between the orbs of her tits, over her belly and into her pussy before dripping into the bowl beneath her arse.

"Umm," she groaned and focussed on the sensation of his pee drenching her naked body, her finger working furiously on her clit. His warm waters running over her vagina was an indescribable feeling and she felt an instant need to fuck, to feel his depraved cock inside her pussy, dripping with both their piss.

She leant forward and opened her mouth and he responded by directing his flow at her face. Her mouth filled with his fluid and she let it overflow and pour down her chin to fall on her body, the salt tingling on her tongue. Then his arc of pee raised and she felt it fall on her hair like rain. She moaned as she fingered herself on that toilet seat, her body becoming covered in piss, shining in the sunlight streaming through the frosted glass of the window.

She leant back again and let him spray her nakedness with his tag, giving herself wholly to him to be his possession. He directed his diminishing stream at her pussy and she was stimulated almost to orgasm by the sensation of hot water shooting onto her clitoris whilst she touched herself.

At last the arc of pee subsided and the last few drops fell from his cock onto her legs. Dripping wet and shining, Lucy sprang from the toilet and pushed him to the warm marble tiles of the floor. His hands automatically clasped her waist as she spread her legs around him, mounting him and lowering herself onto his rock-hard erection.

They released a simultaneous moan as his cock, lubricated by their piss, slipped into her, and she sat back to deepen the penetration. Her hands found his shoulders and she began to rock her hips back and forth on his crotch, sliding his penis in and out of her burning insides. She was hungry for him and wanted to take him completely inside of her; to fit together the puzzle pieces they had realised they had always been. With each rock of the hips she took more and more of his cock into her pussy until she was resting her backside on his pelvis, only his balls visible beneath the split of her arse cheeks.

His hands came up and clasped her breasts and her stimulation was intensified. The wet sound of their connection echoed in the tiled room. She bent forward and kissed him, his piss dripping from her sodden brown hair.

Then she lifted her upper body and began to ride his cock, her speed increasing. She delighted in her power over him as she bounced her hips on his cock, the length inside her stretching her pussy walls.

They were moaning deeply now, their bodies both slick with sweat and piss, her arse lifting up and down as she rode her lover. The familiar rush of warmth began to spread from her clit and she screamed in delight, the sordid nature of their coupling heightening her orgasm. She came to a shuddering stop on his cock, falling forward to pant in his ear as his hands slipped round to grip her arse.

He let her recover for a moment and then flipped them together so that she now lay upon the tiles and he was above her, his engorged dick still inside of her. Lucy wrapped her legs around his waist and slipped her arms around his neck as he began to fuck her wet body on the bathroom floor.

Her pussy, sensitive from the recent orgasm, stung from his strong thrusts and he reined in his passion to enhance her pleasure. His right hand came up to stroke her cheek as the speed of his fucking increased and she watched his determined face gaze into her own as he brought himself to orgasm.

With a strangled grunt he pulled his cock from her and shot warm spunk over her naked body. It sprayed her chest and belly and she pushed herself up, mouth wide open, to catch some of his stream in her mouth. She swallowed and smacked her lips as he pumped his seed onto her. Then she sat up and licked the end of his cock clean of cum. He shuddered as her tongue sent shivers of painful pleasure through his body.

Spent and satisfied they held each other on the tiles and kissed.

"Now you've made me all dirty, too," he told her once he had regained control of his breathing.

"And I'm not finished," she responded and, placing her hands on his shoulders, pushed him back to the floor. Once he was in a lying position, she squatted over his face and looked down at his wide eyes.

"Open wide," she instructed and he obeyed, whimpering as he realised her intentions.

She lowered her pussy to his lips and caressed her crotch.

"Are you ready, you dirty man?" she asked and he nodded eagerly.

The last of her pee from before sprayed into his mouth and filled it. He groaned deeply as he felt its warmth fill and overflow his mouth, her water running down his cheeks to pool about his head on the floor.

"That's it, drink my piss, you bastard," she delighted in saying, "I was just a little innocent girl; now look at what you made me into."

She paused her flow as she lowered her knees to the tiles and brought her pussy back up to his mouth. She pushed her pelvis forward and forced her wet lips onto his mouth before beginning to pee again. Her waters flowed into his mouth and over his nose as she ground her cunt onto his face. He spluttered and choked as his throat filled and she giggled at the sensation of her slippery crotch, red and raw from his violation of her, sliding over his mouth.

Her stream subsided and she watched him as he let the last of her water run from his mouth. She stood up, drips from her pussy falling onto his face, and turned. Her feet stood either side of his face as she looked down at his wet body before her, his cock at half-mast: trying to regain its strength of before because of what she had just done to him. Smiling, she lowered herself once more, spreading her thighs about his head and leaning forward to take his cock in her mouth. She felt his tongue eagerly enter her wet pussy and grinned around his length before she began to suck at his dick.

Her clit began to tingle again as the tip of his tongue probed her and she began to moan as his hardening cock filled her mouth. She slid it further and further into her until it probed the back of her throat causing her to gag and spit onto his balls. She withdrew his member and coughed, simultaneously gripping it with her hand and masturbating him as she sat back, forcing her pussy and arse onto his face. She squeezed her left breast as she rubbed herself on his mouth, biting her lip in lust and pleasure. She spat onto his cock in her hand, lubricating it as she pumped its now full length and began to bounce her pussy up and down on his stuck-out tongue. She groaned animalistically and bent forward once more to suck at him, her hand sliding over his wet skin, leaving scratches, before finding and massaging his balls.

Then she came, hard and fast, and ground her pussy down onto his mouth, her teeth clamping around his cock with the power of it. She shuddered once, twice, then tightened her lips around his cock and redoubled her efforts at sucking him.

She built up a steady rhythm, the saliva of her mouth gurgling in her throat as his engorged dick slid in and out, in and out of her face. Within no time she felt him tense beneath her, his balls tighten above her nose, and she gagged on the jet of hot cum which shot to the back of her throat. She spluttered and coughed drops of his cum onto his thighs before composing herself and swallowing the remaining spunk which flowed into her mouth.

She stood up, heard him taking deep breaths beneath her like a man saved from drowning, and walked over to the shower.

"Now I think I need a shower."

She stepped behind the glass wall of the cubicle and switched on the warming, clean spray of the shower head. The hot water rained down on her naked body and his cum and piss ran from her skin to disappear down the plughole.

Richard still lay on the tiles, exulting in the experience of the little girl he had discovered that summer day pissing in his mouth and riding his cock. He rolled over to regard her soaping herself through the frosted glass of the shower cubicle as the room began to fill with steam.

After a few minutes had passed, he got up and retrieved a towel for her from a rack by the door. She was rinsing herself by the time he approached and leant round the glass divide.

"Thank you," she said and took the towel as she stepped beyond the reach of the shower's spray. She dried her skin with the soft towel and then proceeded to wrap it around her body. She coupled her arms around his neck and kissed him, the taste of her pee and pussy still on his lips.

"Did my baby like that?" she asked.

"Oh yes," he responded breathlessly.

She smiled and kissed him again.

"Well, you can have that any time you like, I promise," she told him. "Now, you better get washed and I better get dressed. Grandma's expecting me back this afternoon."

She squeezed his hand and left the bathroom as he slipped his own body under the relaxing jet of hot water.

She walked back to the secret room of the night before filled with latex and found her dress and underwear where she had left them on the floor. She slipped on her cotton panties and bra before stepping into her dress and regarding herself in the large mirror. The fabric was crinkled from being left damp on the carpet but she supposed it would have to do; she couldn't return home dressed in rubber after all.

She made her way back to the bedroom and sat herself down on at the dressing table. She found a dryer and gave her hair a quick blast, using his brush to fashion it into some sort of order.

Her ablutions complete, she leant back in the chair before the dresser and sighed, the sound of falling water drifting down the corridor as her lover prepared himself for the day. She played with her hair with her fingers, twirling the ends between the tips, and thought of how complete she felt now that she had him.

It wasn't long before her concerns of the day before returned and she once more considered what the future may hold and how they could continue. One thing was for sure; they would continue. And why not? She wasn't going to allow them to be apart for any reason; there was no alternative to his love.

She looked up a few minutes later as he entered, wrapped in a towel, a red garment slung over one arm.

"I thought you might want this," he said, "It's cold outside after all."

He lifted the garment and she saw that it was a red hooded sweatshirt; EXETER UNIVERSITY was written in large white letters across the front.

"An old memento," he explained as she took it.

"Thank you," she smiled. It was warm and soft and smelt of him; she slipped it over her head and felt comforted

His arms slid around her and they embraced, tightly.

"Let me give you my number. I don't have a mobile but you can reach me here anytime you need," he said.

"Oh, so old-fashioned!" She giggled, "Well, I DO have a mobile."

She reached over to her little handbag and retrieved her phone. She programmed his number into it and then kissed him lightly on the lips.

"I better be off, baby," she told him begrudgingly, "Don't want to get Grandma all suspicious."

They embraced again and he kissed her deeply.

"Don't worry," he looked at her and said, "We'll be together properly one day soon."

"I know," she whispered and then, without another word she left him there and padded down the stairs. She hesitated at the front door, feeling somewhere deep down that this was another of those transitory moments, but, not being able to rationalise it, gripped the handle and stepped out into the bluster of the grey Sunday morning.

She shuddered immediately and, closing the door behind her, slid the red hood of his oversized top up and over her hair to shelter from the drizzly rain. She thrust her hands into the pouch on the front of the sweater and began the long walk home, her heels clicking on the tarmac as the fallen leaves blew about her goose-pimpled legs.

***

The rain had begun to fall more heavily by the time she reached the path that led to the thatched cottage which had been her home for eight years. She was shivering from the cold and eagerly slipped her key into the lock of the front door.

She frowned when she realised it was already unlocked. Odd; Grandma always locked the door, even when she was inside. Despite the tranquillity of the village, she was old-fashioned and paranoid and still afraid of the dark. Lucy's heart began to beat faster with trepidation. She pushed open the door and stepped gingerly inside.

It was cold and dark and Lucy felt like she was stepping into an alien place, familiar yet wrong somehow, and it worried her. She pushed back the hood of her top and thought of calling Richard but then overcame the urge; it was probably nothing... but why were the hairs on the back of her neck tingling?

"Grandma?" she called and her voice came back to her, tremulous and pathetic in the silence of the house.

There was a sweet trace in the air like wet and rusting metal and it seemed to be coming from the living room.

"Grandma, is everything alright?" The frightened girl's voice returned again.

Leaving the door open behind her, Lucy padded into the living room. There was her grandmother, sitting in her soft chair, her back to the doorway where Lucy now stood. A gust of wind sent a furious 'bruuur' through the house and she wavered in the doorway, regarding the back of her grandmother's head. It was freezing cold and all the lights were off. Lucy felt a rush of adrenaline and felt like running back the way she had come but knew that she couldn't, knew that she had to see.

She stepped over to her grandmother and looked down to regard a horror which would forever be seared into her mind's eye, an afterimage as indelible as the burnt shadows of Hiroshima. There her grandmother sat, her skin pale and grey where it showed through her dressing gown; her eyes fixed ahead; mouth slack and wide; her throat a ragged gash. Blood had spurted down her clothes and was soaked into her gown; a deep, dark red: the colour of hate.

Lucy stepped back and tripped on the edge of the coffee table which sent her falling back to the carpet and into more damp, cold blood. She brought her red hands up to her face and screamed at them.

Suddenly she was hauled to her feet by a rough hand under her armpit. A stinking palm was clamped over her mouth and a sudden breath through her nose was accompanied by the stench of stale sweat.

Before her eyes was raised a blade, cruelly serrated and encrusted with blood. She screamed at the sight of it but this was muffled by the flesh of her assailant's palm.

The blade lowered and she felt the cold steel press against her throat. Then a hoarse and harsh voice was at her ear.

"Now, my little red whore, it's time to meet the wolf."

The blade left her throat and there was a sudden crack to the back of her head. Her vision drowned in blackness.