The Paul And Jenny Stories Pt 14B

The Paul & Jenny Stories Pt. 14b: Back to Egypt Part 02

Chapter 5. (Linda).

Cairo. December 1971.

I grunted out loud as Ian thrust particularly hard into my cunt. What he may lack in finesse he more than made up for in power and stamina. I wrapped my legs around him with my heels on his ass cheeks. I placed my feet flat on the bed and tried to raise my hips to meet each thrust. I tried to grip his prick with my cunt lips. No, I was too wet. He was quickening his strokes, pistoning in and out of my hole. I couldn't catch my breath as he gave me my third orgasm and I felt him jerking inside me.

Everything went limp. Thankfully including Ian. He'd been known to follow the first performance with a second and even an occasional third without removing his cock.

He pulled out of me and lay by my side. We were both sweating heavily.

"Come on," I said, slowly climbing from the bed and rubbing myself down with a towel. "We promised Jerez we'd go back after dinner and finish describing his latest seizures."

"We haven't eaten yet woman."

"We haven't time now. We can get a supper in the night club when we get back."

This was the third time this year that Jerez El Mctomb, head of investigation at the Cairo department of Antiquities, had invited me out to work in his department. It was one thing to study books and hear second hand of the finds still coming out of Egypt but to actually be allowed to be there. It was worth an extra year's study. Even Ian, although he wasn't really interested in Egyptology was gaining from it. He'd really been impressed in the summer when Jerez had got him permission to dive on some of the wrecks that lined the Red Sea coast. Now that was something Ian did appreciate. And he'd impressed the local professors. So much so that when we'd taken our degrees the following summer he had been offered a position on one of the teams working on a new site.

He'd made me join a local diving club to learn scuba diving. I wasn't too sure I wanted to spend my working life under water. Besides, I had a feeling that Jerez had plans for me in another direction.

We dressed and left our hotel to head back to Jerez's department. The streets were fairly empty for this time of evening.

Jerez was waiting for us in his department's laboratory. We slipped into our white coats and returned to work cleaning and categorising a pile of artefacts that had been brought in that morning from a seizure the previous evening. We had only flown out the day before from London after travelling down from our University in the north of England on the overnight train. As we would only be there for three weeks this time there would only be two days off at the end of our stay for site seeing and relaxing.

It was half past ten before we had finished for the day and hung up our coats. Jerez had Lee-Anne and the twins from America staying with him so he declined our offer of coffee in the hotel night club and left us to make our way the ten minutes or so back to the Hotel.

I held on to Ian's arm as we made our way through the suddenly busy streets. The crowds seemed to increase the further we walked and on more than one occasion I was jostled.

"Bit crowded tonight." I almost had to shout into Ian's ear for him to hear me.

He nodded in reply.

Somebody barged heavily into my shoulder and I stumbled, releasing Ian's arm. I looked up. I couldn't see him. Arab faces surrounded me. I was being forced into a narrow alleyway.

"Ian. Ian." I shouted.

Thoughts of white slave traders flashed through my head. I didn't want to be tied up and used unmercifully. I'd been there.

"Ian." I screamed, this time in panic and tried to force my way through the grinning throng in front of me.

"Get out of my fucking way."

I could hear his voice. I kicked out at those in front of me, connecting with more than one shin.

I opened my mouth to scream again when suddenly it was covered with a damp cloth. My arms were held down by my side. I recognised the smell and tried not to breathe. I was being forced, almost carried, through a doorway. I had to take a breath. Almost at once everything started to spin in front of my eyes. I could feel hands on my body, on my legs and on my ass cheeks. It was becoming very dark.

Somebody was unbuttoning my blouse.

Chapter 6. (Paul).

I was sent into town at nine o'clock armed with my chequebook and visited the branch of my bank where I had cheque-cashing facilities.

"Carole would need a lot of things," Jenny had said as I left, "so be sure to draw a lot of money."

I wasn't quite certain what she meant by a lot but I was certain it would be more than the twenty pounds I would normally draw for our weekend expenses. At least she had to ring her parents and explain why we weren't coming up for the next two days. These changes normally happened when we were due to travel down to Somerset to visit my parents. I was certain my father thought I was just trying to get out of the golf and flying lessons he normally had booked for me. I was also to drive to our old flat and pick up Shirley, who hadn't seen Carole in over a year, and bring her back.

She was waiting for me on the street outside the flat when I pulled up in my Morgan. I opened the door for her from the inside and watched her legs as she sat down. I don't know why I bothered as she was wearing jeans. Yes I did, she had nice legs even covered.

Shirley opened the gates for me when I got home and I parked next to Jenny's VW Beetle. I opened the front door and stood aside for her to enter. I called Jenny's name and Shirley followed the sound of her reply into the front room and was hugging Carole and talking and laughing by the time I had entered. Then everybody was cooing over the baby.

Jenny made me a cup of tea and handed me the morning paper after I had sat down in my armchair. I sat and watched as the girls put on their coats and picked up their handbags. Harvey lay quietly in our wicker clothesbasket.

"Right," Jenny said, holding out her hand for money. "Hand it over."

I'd half planned to go somewhere quiet with her and negotiate but I think she guessed my plan. I lifted my ass and took out my wallet. I handed over the money, keeping a couple of notes for myself. She looked at me with her head to one side.

"I was going to the pub at lunch time."

"I'm afraid you're baby sitting," she said, holding out her hand. "Please, we have a lot to do."

"You don't mind, do you Paul?" Carole could look very appealing. "He'll sleep for four hours now he's been fed and changed. He won't be any trouble."

Jenny bent over and kissed me, taking my money from my fingers as she did so.

"Thank you Paul," Carole said, kissing my other cheek.

"I'll bring back the change," Jenny waved as I stood up as they left the room.

"See you later."

I walked to the hall and watched as they closed the front door and listened to the sound of Jenny's car engine splutter into life. More choke, I said under my breath.

The gates clanged shut and the sound of the engine was lost in the distance. I returned to my chair and my tea. I read the headlines. Glanced through the sports pages and studied the week's final stock exchange figures. Mine were doing all right. Of course they aren't worth any more than the dividends you receive until you sell them but on paper I was looking good. I finished my tea, folded the paper across my chest and closed my eyes. I was getting old before my time. Still, it was nice.

I took a deep breath and yawned.

Yes. This was nice.

I thought of Jenny. Smiling at me. On her back with her legs open. Another face kept intruding between us. I wanted to see Jenny. The face was back. Eyes wide with fear as he hung by his fingertips above the chasm in the floor of the Temple. The features were not distinct, as if there were two faces, one super-imposed on the other, in front of me. I recognised Ahmed, Jerez El McTomb's former boss in the Cairo Department of Antiquities (Security Division). I also recognised him as the High Priest who had just pulled his prick out of Jenny's fanny. Then there was Hamed.

I could hear my own voice, 'You fucked her, you Bastard' as I hit his hand with my fist. He fell, still holding the hand of Hamed his assistant and Linda's lover before Ahmed had ran his sword though him as a sacrifice to their deity and to become a host for his spirit. But this Hamed was so different. The skin hung in shreds from his skull.

The eyes bore into me. He seemed to be calling me. He wanted me. Well, he wasn't going to fucking well have me.

I opened my eyes. Harvey was crying and the telephone was ringing. I stood up and picked Harvey up as I had been instructed too earlier. He went silent, smiled and burped. Still carrying him I went into the hall and picked up the phone.

"Hallo?" I asked.

"Paul?" A woman's voice came loud and clear into my ear. "Paul? Is that you."

She spoke again before I had a chance to reply.

"Paul. It's Martha." It was Carole's mother.

"We're worried about Carole. She's left home with the baby. We thought she'd flown across to London to be with Howie, who's on business for Harve, there."

"Stop worrying. They're here." I looked down at Harvey who screwed up his face and started crying again.

"Is that Harvey crying?" She asked.

"Yes."

"What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know."

"How long as it been going on?"

"Only a few minutes. It started when the phone rang." It may have done.

"Where's Carole?"

"She's gone shopping with Jenny."

"Has he been fed."

"Yes. Carole said he would sleep for at least four hours."

Harvey was in full voice now.

"Has he been burped?"

"He did a little one when I picked him up."

"Put his chin on your shoulder and gently rub his back." I put the receiver on the hall table and did it. Harvey stopped crying and blew a couple of bubbles. That was better. A minor explosion seemed to occur deep down inside him and something wet happened to my back. He repeated it. "Paul. Paul."

I picked up the receiver.

"I think he's been sick," I complained. "It's all over my back."

"He'll feel better for that."

"But my shirt."

"He's only a baby," Martha said, comfortingly. "He can't help it."

I looked down into his eyes. I don't suppose he could. He farted.

"Tell Carole to phone me. I'm at home."

"I will," I replied. "Don't worry, everybody's fine. Bye."

I put down the receiver after hearing her goodbye and returned Harvey to his bed. He smiled up at me. I picked up his rattle and shook it at him. He smiled again, and farted.

I looked at my watch. They'd been gone over two hours. I took my cup into the kitchen, dropped my shirt into the dirty laundry basket, put on a T-shirt from the pile of clean clothes on one of the chairs and made a fresh pot of tea. I yawned and stretched as it brewed. I could still see Ahmed's face. It seemed clearer now. I shook my head and looked out of the kitchen window over our back garden and over the low hedge into the field where some sheep were grazing. Again it came back.

I shook my head to clear it and, making myself a cup of tea, went back into the front room. I switched on the TV. Grandstand, the Saturday afternoon sports programme would be starting soon. Picking up my newspaper I turned to the TV page. Rugby League and Horse racing were the main ingredients with a half-hour summary of the previous weekend's soccer. I looked at the other channels listing. A soccer summary, wrestling and even more horse racing. I'd prefer to be in the pub.

There was a news summary at one. Hopefully they would be back by then. I switched back to Grandstand. The presenter looked like Ahmed. I switched it off.

Harvey was making little gurgling sounds. I looked into his basket. He'd been sick and his face was bright red. He was struggling for breath. I picked him up. He was on fire. I hurried with him into the kitchen and ran a towel under the cold water tap. I dabbed at his forehead with it and wiped the spew away from his lips. He belched again, bringing up more half digested milk. I cleaned him up and kept one end of the towel against his forehead. He smiled up at me. His features seemed to change into those of Ahmed as I looked. But not the Ahmed I remembered. The flesh on the face of this one was hanging in shreds. The room was full with the stench of death and decay. I suddenly felt very cold. He was coming at me. I had the near overwhelming urge to hit him. To kill him, if you could kill a dead man. I put my hand around his throat. He was coming closer.

The telephone was ringing. I looked down at little Harvey, smiling up at me. I removed my hand from his throat. I was shaking all over. Suddenly I was very hot and started to sweat. The telephone was still ringing. I stumbled into the hall carrying Harvey and picked it up.

"Yes." I could hardly hear my own voice.

"Is that you? Paul," a loud, booming American voice came through the earpiece.

"What? Yes. Who's that?"

"It's Howie. Are you okay?"

"Yes fine."

"My father just phoned. Is Carole with you?"

"She's out shopping."

"Where's Harvey?"

"He's here. With me," I looked down at him. I think he was falling asleep. He certainly looked better.

"Where are you?" Howie asked.

"I'm in Bristol."

"I know that, you fool. I'm driving across. How do I get there?"

I gave him directions.

"I'll be there in a couple of hours. See ya."

The line went dead. I put down the receiver. I heard a car crunching on the gravel outside. The sound of laughing voices. I opened the door. It was starting to rain.

Chapter 7. (Jenny).

Paul stood in the doorway holding Harvey, in his one piece, and a towel. They were both covered in sick. Paul didn't look well. Perhaps he wasn't ready for fatherhood after all.

Carole hurried inside and took Harvey from him. Paul came out and helped us to unload the car. He'd changed his shirt from when we'd left. The pram, with its collapsible wheels and removable baby compartment was last after the baby clothes and disposable nappies and the jeans, jumpers and T-shirts we'd bought for Carol.

We took the baby items into the living room and sent Paul into the kitchen to make the tea. He didn't look happy. He looked almost ill, in fact. Surely a baby being sick on him wouldn't have that much effect. Anyway, Harvey was the most important thing at the moment. We moved the coffee table and lay him on the ground on his new changing mat. We cleaned, changed and powdered him. Carole sat in one of the armchairs, took out a breast and presented the nipple to his mouth. His lips opened and he sucked it into his mouth. His eyes were open and he looked up at Carole. I was definitely going to breast feed when the time came. I would just have to hope they grew with pregnancy.

Paul was taking his time with the tea so I went into the kitchen leaving Shirley to set up the pram.

Paul was staring out of the back windows at the sheep in the fields. The kettle was steaming by his side. I switched it off; we would really have to buy one with an automatic cut off. He turned his head towards me, there were tears in his eyes.

I put my arms around him and held him tight. The top of my head against his cheek.

"What's wrong, love," I asked, running my hands through his hair.

"I think I tried to kill Harvey," he stumbled over the words.

"What?" I asked. "Don't be silly."

"I keep seeing Hamed and Ahmed's faces. All morning. Everywhere I look. Even Harvey looked like him."

I'd had a similar feeling earlier in the week but I'd just dismissed it. This was strange.

"It's over now. I'm here."

He was silent for a minute as if gathering himself.

"Oh. Carole's to ring her mother and Howie will be here in an hour or so."

His fingers were tightening against my back. The fingers of one hand running down my spine. He was feeling better.

His hand was on my backside, squeezing one of my cheeks. His touch was firm but gentle. His other hand moved down to join the first, squeezing my other cheek. I could feel his prick growing against my pubic mound. I couldn't help rubbing myself against it. It grew harder and longer.

"We have guests," I said, lifting my head and looking up at him. "They could come in here at any moment."

He could look disappointed.

"Make the tea," I said, kneeling down, unzipping his flies and taking out his prick.

I heard the glug, glug of the water as he poured it into the teapot. I wet my lips with my tongue and took the end of his prick into my mouth, running my tongue around its head, then moving my head backwards and forwards. I felt his foreskin moving to and throe along his shaft. I could taste something slightly salty. His hips started to move and he placed his hands on the back of my head. I heard him gasp, then moan and suddenly his come was hitting the back of my throat. I swallowed once, twice, then a third time. He helped me to stand up. We hugged. I enjoyed doing that. The knowledge that we might have been caught at any minute added spice. I watched as he put his prick away. We smiled at one another. It was our secret. Somebody was in the corridor, then the kitchen door opened.

"It should be brewed by now," I said, taking cups and saucers from the cupboard.

"Anybody want biscuits?"

To Be Continued...