Cigarettes Paper ...you?

After Jasmine left and went home, I was at a loss. In a way it was ridiculous. What had I expected? She wasn't going to leave her husband and move in with me and at the end of the day, I didn't want her to, but she definitely left a void.

We had only slept together three times and now I was moping about, feeling like my right arm had been torn off. It didn't make any sense. Was I in love? No, but I was definitely in lust.

I tried not to think about her too much and threw myself into my work. I was in the middle of a complex negotiation at the time, which made things a little easier, but I still found myself, during odd moments, wondering what she was doing and whether she was thinking about me.

I thought about getting in touch with her. Maybe I could persuade her to sneak away every so often for a wild session in some hotel? After all, she didn't live that far away and I had no ties. But maybe that would be just a little too close to home for her; literally and figuratively.

And regardless of that, I didn't have her number anyway. I could hardly go round to the shop and ask her sister and brother in law for it, could I? What possible reason could I give them, apart from the truth? I could hardly waltz in and casually drop into the conversation, oh by the way, while you were away, I've been fucking your sister, in every hole; you wouldn't happen to have her number, would you? So I was stuck.

And I have to say that it wasn't just the sex I was missing. Her storytelling had given me just as much pleasure and I was really keen to know what else had happened between her and her filthy old father in law Anjam. I thought about that story a lot and on several nights found myself masturbating to mingled erotic thoughts of Jasmine now and Jasmine then, experiencing her first major sexual experience.

In the end, Jasmine solved the problem for me. Sort of.

I was driving back from the shops one evening, having stocked up on basic supplies; like cigarettes, bourbon and chocolate. But I wasn't shopping at Raj and Sareeta's anymore. It was stupid really, it wasn't as if they were going to chase me off the premises, shouting "Marriage breaker" and pelting me with hard-boiled sweets, but still, somehow I didn't feel comfortable. So I'd not been back for two weeks and I was getting my supplies elsewhere.

My phone beeped once on the seat beside me, but it wasn't till I got back and humped my purchases up to the flat that I looked to see that I had a text from a number I didn't recognise. There was no message as such, just the symbols /\o/\ arranged just like that.

I guess I'm pretty slow, but it took me a good 10 minutes of staring at it, turning it upside down and sideways and even holding it in front of the mirror, before I realised it was meant to be a pair of legs, splayed apart, with knees raised and an opening in the middle.

Instantly, my cock twitched like someone had just pushed their finger into my sphincter and I knew it was from Jasmine. I had no evidence and I wasn't even sure how she had got my number, because we'd never exchanged, but I knew it was her without a shred of doubt.

I found myself grinning like an idiot, pacing around the flat, trying to stop myself calling her straight back and shouting Hallelujah! Something was telling me to play it cool, so I calmed myself down, hit reply, keyed in o-> and pressed send.

Seconds later another text arrived, simply saying -- 'be patient'. So I was.

It nearly drove me crazy, but I waited patiently for three days. Every day I itched to call that number, text a hundred messages or even take a picture of my cock and send it. But I didn't.

In the end my patience was rewarded. I had just climbed into bed on the third day, when my phone started to ring and it was the same number again.

I smiled, took a deep breath and pressed the answer key. "Hello?" I queried. There was silence at the other end; I couldn't even hear her breathe.

"Hello," I repeated. "Jasmine?" there was an audible sigh at the other end. I waited.

"Hi," she said eventually, "how are you?"

"A million times better for hearing from you," I was gushing a bit, I realised, but it was almost as if I could feel her smiling at the other end. "I didn't think I'd hear from you again," I admitted.

"Well you nearly didn't," she said playfully, "but, Hey! A girl has to have some fun now and again."

"Is your husband way," I asked, and kicked myself for probably spoiling the mood.

"No," she said blithely, "he's sitting right next to me. Do you want to say hello?"

I must have gulped audibly at that, because she snorted. "For God's sake, don't be a dick! Do you think I'd be calling you if he was here?" And she laughed loudly.

"Damn you woman!" I cursed at her, amused and embarrassed equally. "You got me."

"Didn't I just?" She laughed again. "No, hubbie's away in Azerbaijan or somewhere equally unpronounceable."

My ears pricked up at that one. "So, you fancied some fun, did you? Want me to come round?" I didn't really mean it, although I would have been thrilled if she'd said yes.

"No!" she barked sharply and I knew I'd caught a nerve. "No," she said again, more softly this time. "That wouldn't be ..." she paused, searching for the right words. "It would be nice, but it wouldn't be .... right," she concluded. I understood and I was a little disappointed, but what the hell? I told myself -- at least we're talking.

"So," I said, brightly. "What's happening?"

"Well," she said, thoughtfully, "I thought you might like to hear a story."

A giant grin split my face. "Oh yes, indeed I would," I replied.

"Good," she said in a comfortable voice. "Sit back, relax and we'll begin." Once again, my cock twitched in anticipation and Jasmine's sultry voice had me in its thrall.

"Now, where were we?" she asked rhetorically. "Oh yes. Young Jasmine; that's me by the way, had just been fucked up the arse by my own prospective father in law and I was in a bit of a state."

"After I left Anjam in his bedroom, I flew downstairs, praying that I wasn't going to run into Kumar or his Mum. I don't know which would have been worse and the thought of seeing both of them together just terrified me. My hair was all over the place, my makeup was smudged, my back passage was sore and I felt like I had a sign over my head saying 'Whore', in huge neon letters.

"I ran out of there, jumped into my little car and took off up the road like a bank robber, sort of crying and snuffling to myself. I didn't know whether I was more upset about cheating on Kumar, cheating on Kumar with his Dad, or just because I was such an awful slut. Probably all three.

"When I got home my mind was all over the place. I dashed inside, managing to avoid my Mum, ran upstairs to the bathroom and jumped in the shower. I think a part of me figured that if I got myself clean enough it would be like it had never happened.

"They say that's what rape victims do isn't it? Wash themselves obsessively? Not that I felt like I'd been raped. I was angrier with myself, really, almost as if I'd violated myself in a way. Like I was really afraid that I'd turned into the kind of girl who enjoyed being butt-fucked by a father figure; because I knew that's exactly what I had turned into. It was weird. I just wanted it not to have happened, so I could be the old, prim and innocent Jasmine again.

"How was I going to ever face Kumar again, let alone his Dad, or his Mum? I'd never be able to look any of them in the eye, ever again. Under the spray, while I scrubbed myself obsessively, I went through my options. Firstly, I was going to call off the wedding, that was for sure.

"Maybe, I could pretend I had a fatal disease and become a nun. Or I could get myself run over by a car and then everyone would be really upset, especially Anjam and he'd probably die of guilt. But then I thought that he'd probably breathe a sigh of relief and find some other teenager to molest.

"So then I thought I'd tell them all that he raped me and then I'd become a nun. But I wasn't sure if you could become a nun after you'd been violated. And I wasn't even sure if there were any Hindu convents. And even I had to admit that it hadn't exactly been rape, had it? Then I decided I'd just run away. I had some savings and a half tank of petrol; I could be in Scotland by morning.

"Anyway, after I'd showered and washed myself about five times, I calmed down a bit. I think my Mum was worried because she knocked on the door at one point and asked if I was alright. I just told her I had an upset stomach and she went away.

"A bit later after I'd dried myself off and dashed into my bedroom and locked the door, I started thinking about things more rationally. Now, I told myself that the whole encounter with Anjam was a crazy one off. It was certainly never going to happen again and that no matter how embarrassing it was I was just going to have to brazen it out the first few times I saw him. I just had to make absolutely sure, to never, ever, ever be alone with him again. Even then I think I knew that there was a very thin line between me managing to resist him and throwing myself in front of him like a panting slut.

"I certainly recognised the danger, but I could also see that with a bit of careful management, it would be possible to get through the whole thing, get married and get back to the life I'd been working up to for the past year. Once I was a married woman, he wouldn't dare do anything. Would he? Would I?

"I tried to suppress the excited side of me, but that night in bed, I just kept playing and replaying the afternoon in my head and it made me hornier than I had ever been in my life. All I could see, was his big body looming over me and the look of intense lust on his face and all I could do was keep frigging myself to orgasm after orgasm until I fell asleep exhausted just as it was getting light.

"Although I did manage to avoid being anywhere near Anjam for quite a while, I knew that eventually I'd have to be in the same room as him, before Kumar started to wonder why I kept making excuses not to come round to his house. The wedding was getting nearer and I couldn't put it off forever. My Mum and his were forever trying to involve me in the wedding plans and couldn't understand why, when it meant going round to their house, I would be mysteriously unavailable.

"One thing that did change though was how hot and heavy things were getting with Kumar. I was still determined not to go all the way with him before the wedding and found myself perversely grateful that Anjam hadn't deflowered me, at least not in the normal way. But that didn't mean that Kumar and I didn't have our moments, teetering on the brink of full blown sex.

"I kept pushing the boundaries further and further, every time we were alone, practically throwing myself at him. Part of me wanted to stick to our vow and wait till it was time, but another part wanted him to get so carried away with lust that he'd just throw me on the floor and fuck me till my eyes bled. But that wasn't really Kumar's style. He was a sweet, stubborn thing and once he decided he was going to protect me from myself, there was no swaying him.

"I was in a constant fever. It was as if Anjam had turned on a one way switch and I had gone from being mildly sexually aware, to being continually horny, like a cat in heat. I just couldn't stop thinking about sex. All the time. Everywhere.

"As well as spending a good two hours every night, masturbating, till I fell asleep in a sweaty tangle, I was constantly in a state of arousal during the day.

"When I woke up in the morning, if I didn't bring myself off before getting out of bed, I'd definitely finger myself to orgasm in the shower. Sometimes I'd do both. I didn't have a vibrator or anything and I was afraid of breaking my hymen if I pushed anything inside me, but one night in a desperate attempt to recreate something of the pleasure I'd felt from Anjam's unexpected backdoor approach, I hit a new low.

"We were sitting at the dinner table at the time. I was bored by the usual, tedious family conversation so I was daydreaming about getting caught in a cupboard with Anjam forcing his fat cock into me. I was just clamping my thighs together on the chair and feeling my panties getting damp, when I suddenly noticed a trio of nice, slim, red candles standing tall and erect in the centre-piece right in front of me.

"I might have even gasped, audibly at the sudden thought of what I could do with one of those, but I don't remember anyone taking any notice. I couldn't wait for dinner to be over and my mother had never seen me so eager to help clear away.

"Accidentally, on purpose I swung a dish round and knocked one of the tempting, wax phalluses on to the floor. It snapped in half, but that was OK -- I didn't need much length. Not for the first time anyway.

"Giddy with my own cleverness, I quickly snatched up the pieces. 'Sorry Mum,' I said as I secretly slipped them into the pocket of my cardigan.

"As soon as I could, I disappeared up to my room, locked the door and got down to business. I was so excited, my panties were soaked just thinking about what I was about to do

"Within seconds, I was naked, crouched on the bed on all fours and with no more than a lick of saliva as a lubricant, I was pushing the tapered end of that candle into my little twitching arsehole and strumming my clit like a heavy metal guitarist. The first time I did it, I had to bury my head in the pillow to smother my screams; it felt so absolutely, fucking amazing!

"I was so turned on, while at the same time feeling so incredibly depraved, that I thought I was going to pass out with the sheer, filthy pleasure of it.

"But once you start, you can't stop. Or I couldn't anyway. After a couple of days, that skinny little dinner candle wasn't enough. If a middle-aged man could get his fat cock up my arse, then I sure as hell could accommodate a bigger candle. A few days later I found myself, wandering round the home ware section of the local department store, surreptitiously measuring the girth of candles with my finger and thumb.

"After lots of testing I finally chose one that I figured was exactly Anjam-sized and was even the right sort of beigy-brown colour. When I got it home, I decided the top edge was a bit sharp. My Mum was out, so, don't laugh, but I used her potato peeler to round off the end and make it more cock-shaped.

Jasmine paused in her story to giggle delightedly and I joined her. It was a powerful image she had conjured up. I imagined her bent over the kitchen work surface, her tongue between her teeth in concentration, carefully carving her first, very own, sex toy.

By this time, I had my own cock in my hand and was firmly stroking myself to the rhythm of her words and I was eager for her to continue.

"Is this turning you on?" She wondered.

"Don't ask silly questions," I snapped back. "Just get on with it."

"Well, my new candle was just amazing. It was like an entirely new world of self-pleasure opening up to me, quite apart from what Anjam had introduced me to. I felt I could keep doing this and getting more and more depraved for years. I was obsessed.

"After the first couple of times, I realised that my cock-candle needed a bit of modification, so I snuck back to the kitchen drawer and used the peeler again to make it a bit narrower just below the end, so that my arse would grip on to it and I wouldn't have to keep holding it. That way I was completely hands free and I could touch myself however I wanted.

"I developed this whole ritual where I was recreating what had happened with Anjam. I used to put on the same dress and pretend we were in the garden. I'd hold my hand out to my imaginary father in law and feel him licking it. Then I'd pretend we had gone upstairs and I would strip for him, watching myself in the mirror through his eyes. I'd pull my dress over my head, unfasten my bra and drop my panties, imagining his lecherous eyes all over me. Then I'd position myself on the edge of the bed with my legs in the air, my arse slathered in baby oil and then I'd slowly push that fat candle into my twitching arse, until my sphincter gripped it tight and frig myself like a crazy woman till I'd come at least seven or eight times.

"And it wasn't just at home either. I was constantly horny everywhere else as well. If I was out shopping, I would have to disappear into the toilets at the mall at least once, just to sit on the bowl, drop my knickers round my ankles and stroke myself off. If I could hear anyone else in the room or in the next cubicle, that just made it naughtier and more exciting. I could bring myself off in a just few minutes from a standing start, biting my lip to keep from whimpering and trying to pant as quietly as possible.

"At the time I was in college doing a business diploma. I wasn't that interested in it and frankly had no intention of working after I got married, so I was just going through the motions really. Anyway, on a typical college day, I would go to the toilet at least three times, for a quick stroke.

"I got madder and madder with it, pushing the boundaries. Sometimes, if there was no one in there, I'd actually stand in front of the mirror, step out of my knickers and lift up the front of my skirt and play with myself in full view. A couple of times I almost got caught when people came in and I had to drop my skirt and scuttle into a cubicle. One time, when I thought the place was empty, I'm sure someone was in a cubicle listening to me and maybe spying on me. I don't know who, but the thought just got me even hornier.

"So this was maybe a period of about three weeks where my determination to avoid Anjam grew stronger while my horniness and risk taking just grew crazier and crazier. And all the while, no matter where I was, no matter how I brought myself to orgasm, it was always the dirty movie of him fucking me relentlessly up the arse that kept playing over and over in my head. I guess it was inevitable that something had to give, but it wasn't what I expected.

"One day I was feeling particularly frustrated. I'd overslept in the morning and in my rush to get to college, I'd not had time for a finger fuck. Then all day at college, it seemed like there was always someone else around, so I couldn't sneak off to satisfy myself. Right at the end of the day, I finally managed to snatch one hurried orgasm, standing up in a toilet cubicle, my dress bunched up under my armpits, my knickers round my knees, my fingers frantically strumming my clit at double speed and with an eye-shadow pencil clamped between my teeth to stifle the moans.

"In my hurry, I must have failed to fasten the door properly and I was just reaching the final strokes when to my shock, the door swung open and I found myself staring into the eyes of some girl I'd never seen before. Which was a relief, I must say. If it had been someone who knew me, I would have spontaneously combusted right there.

"As it was, I just froze and so did she. Her eyes were as big as saucers as she scanned me up and down, with her mouth half open in a sort of dopey pout. The moment seemed to have its own strange logic. I somehow seemed to know and accept that for some compelling reason, she wasn't going to be able to move until I finished what I'd started. It was really weird but there was also a huge adrenaline rush that coursed through me. I'd never had any sexual thoughts about another woman and in a strange way, I wasn't having them now. It was just a person; or an animal, watching another animal doing an animal act.

"With her no more than two feet away from me with her eyes clamped onto my crotch, I stared at her while my fingers started up their beat on my swollen clit again, twice as fast this time, desperate to push myself over the edge before anyone else came in.