"as Anna Anything"

Elliott returned home the evening of Anna's supermarket adventure. She had showered and, knowing he would want to take her straight to bed, styled her hair, applied subtle make up and dressed in a filmy baby doll, a thong that barely covered her pussy lips, and strappy sandals. She couldn't find her contraceptive pills, which she usually took in the evening, but after groping behind the washbasin a few times, thinking the packet must have slipped down a gap, she gave up. There were only a couple left in the pack anyway. If she couldn't find it in the morning she'd take her repeat prescription into the pharmacy and start a new pack. A few hours' delay would be fine.

She bustled around the kitchen, aware of Hawkley watching her from across the road but not caring, preparing an easy pasta dish to eat at room temperature with her husband after hot homecoming sex. Her clit was still hyper-sensitive after the many orgasms Hawkley and his fiendish toy had inflicted on her and every so often she would have to stop what she was doing as the fibres in her thong rubbed it at just the wrong (/right?) angle, clutching the kitchen counter to support herself and panting heavily.

Because Hawkley had again confiscated her keys, she couldn't welcome Elliott on the doorstep. When she saw his headlamps rounding the bend in the road she ran up the stairs two at a time and arranged herself prettily on the bed.

The keys rattled in the lock and: "Anna!" her husband shouted.

"Up here, baby!" she called back, and Elliott was upstairs and on her in seconds. She kissed his stubbled face and, grateful that she at last had a young, handsome man between her thighs again, unzipped his trousers and pushed her thong to one side, guiding his meaty erection into her wet cunt while he was still fully-clothed. In passing, his cockhead grazed her swollen clit and she came noisily as he drew back in surprise.

"Already?" he asked in astonishment.

"I've missed you," Anna breathed, thrusting her hips up to meet his and wrapping her legs tightly around his waist.

By the time she sank into an exhausted sleep he had cum three times in her pussy and once in her mouth, marvelling at her resourcefulness as she coaxed his cock back to hardness after each orgasm. He wasn't faithful to her when he was away, and in the locations he visited regularly he no longer paid for sex but had regular girlfriends, but none of them fucked quite like Anna when she was aroused. While he was away he often vowed to amend his work schedule so he could spend more time at home with his sexy wife, but when she greeted him like this - like a rabid nympho - he thought perhaps it was not worth rocking the boat. If he were around more often she might be less grateful and therefore less eager to please.

. . .

Anna rose late the following morning. She pulled the baby doll over her head and walked through to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. Wrapping her bathrobe around her naked body, she descended the stairs, following the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

To her horror, when she glanced in through the lounge door she saw Hawkley sitting in an easy chair opposite Elliott, sipping from a coffee cup. Elliott beckoned her over and drew her down into his lap, sliding his hands beneath her robe to stroke her thighs, showing off. Anna swallowed, meeting Hawkley's eyes across the coffee table. Her robe had fallen open slightly and he could just see one pink nipple. Grinning wolfishly out of Elliott's eyeline, he casually withdrew from his pocket the remote control he had used the previous day to torment her, rubbing his thumb over it.

The mere sight of the remote in his hands was enough to elicit a Pavolvian response from his victim. Hawkley watched in fascination as her nipple swelled and darkened and her pupils began to dilate. Elliott, feeling the heat radiating from her groin and the dampness spreading between her thighs, assumed his fingers were responsible and inched them further towards her labia. He got a kick from touching up his wife in front of their elderly neighbour and his cock began to swell beneath her butt.

"I hope you've been looking out for Anna as I asked, Len," Elliott said, deliberately twitching his cock against Anna's quivering body.

"We've seen quite a bit of each other," answered Hawkley, taking a gulp of his coffee, "but really she has been taking care of me rather than the reverse. She's taken in a couple of parcels for me, and yesterday she was sweet enough to take me food shopping. I think the other old boys in the supermarket were quite envious of my glamorous escort."

Elliott laughed. "That was good of you, Anna."

"She helped a couple of them get what they needed along the way," Hawkley went on, draining his cup and rising to his feet. "Thank you for the coffee, Elliott, mate. I'd better be getting along - and I'm sure you two have lots to catch up on."

"We really do," Elliott agreed. "I only have today and tomorrow with my lovely wife and then I need to leave again. I'm hoping my schedule will slow down a bit next month but it's good to know I can rely on you in the meantime, Len."

He stood up, pressing his hard-on into Anna's arse-crack and using her body as a shield to disguise it as he followed Hawkley out to the front door, propelling his wife before him. He shook Hawkley's hand and hissed in Anna's ear, "Give him a kiss."

Simmering with revulsion, she leaned forward to peck her neighbour on his papery cheek and Hawkley seized the opportunity to slip his hand inside her robe, squeezing her tender breast and tweaking the nipple brutally, before turning his back and crossing the road.

Elliott pushed the front door closed and turned her towards him. He laughed to see the gaping neck of her robe. "Did you accidentally-on-purpose give the old boy an eyeful?" he asked. "Careful, Anna. I'm not sure his ticker can take it! Come on, babe, I need to get inside you again."

. . .

For the rest of the day they fucked at intervals, sleeping and eating in between. At four o'clock the following morning he released a final load into her aching tunnel from behind, holding her hips steady as his balls drained into her.

He left three hours later while she was still asleep, whispering, "Goodbye, beautiful," into her ear and kissing her on the lips. On an impulse, he pulled back the quilt and took a photograph of her naked, well-used body on his phone before he left the room. His cock began to rise again but there really wasn't time. He had promised to fuck Melanie, his twenty-two year old girlfriend in Portsmoutt, on arrival.

He let himself out of the house, locking the front door behind him and waving to Hawkley, who was giving his front garden an early morning watering.

"Left her in bed?" called Hawkley.

"Well-fucked and exhausted," confirmed Elliott, laughing, and pulled away in his big BMW.

Hawkley gave her an hour before letting himself in.

She was still asleep. Like Elliott before him, he pulled back the quilt and looked at her. Her breasts were full but high, her tummy flat and taut. It was clear that she had never borne a child. He also photographed her as she slept before going downstairs to make her some breakfast. Once it was ready, he reached in his pocket for the package of pills he had brought with him and pressed one out onto the plate with the hot buttered toast. He re-read the label on the box, feeling his cock twitch at the implications: "PregVit® Original is the UK's most popular prenatal supplement," it read, "trusted by women who are planning for pregnancy or are already pregnant. A scientifically developed formulation of important vitamins and minerals, including vitamin B12 and folic acid at exactly the level recommended by the Department of Health." He grinned and carried the tray upstairs.

Anna stretched and sighed in resignation when she realised it was not Elliott sitting on the mattress beside her but Hawkley. She began to drink her juice, but he took the glass from her hand: "Don't forget your vitamin," he scolded, dropping the pill into her hand. She raised an eyebrow but didn't comment, tipping her head back with a shrug and swallowing it dry before he returned her drink. What did it matter if it was something illegal? He had already fucked her, fisted her and given her to strangers while she was quite sober and alert. Surely he had no need to roofie her. And how much worse could it get?

He watched her eat her toast in thoughtful silence. He had taken from his pocket something shiny and was twisting it in his fingers. It caught the morning sunlight coming through the gap in the curtains, gleaming and flashing. Was he trying to hypnotise her now?

Suddenly, he began to speak. "Childlessness," he was saying, "is a sensitive subject. I'd always assumed you were barren and didn't like to probe into the reasons. It had never occurred to me you might be childless at your age by choice."

She put down her toast, a cold ball forming in the pit of her stomach as she realised what the silver object in his fingers was. It was her foil pack of contraceptive pills, the one she had thought trapped behind the washbasin. She had completely forgotten about visiting the chemist for a replacement - and now she would not have a chance. She thought in horror of the number of times Elliott had cum inside her in the last two days, of how his little swimmers would be making their way up her birth canal, through her cervix and into her uterus. She racked her brain to remember how long after sex emergency contraception was effective, but her mind was blank.

Without warning, she vomited chewed toast and orange juice over the breakfast tray. Hawkley recoiled in horror and slapped her face. He grabbed her hand and dragged her, naked and protesting into the bathroom, pushing her into the shower cubicle and turning the cold water on full blast. Anna shrieked and tried to get out but he barred her way, finally relenting and turning up the temperature.

"Clean yourself up, little pig," he snapped, "and then get your soiled bedcovers in the wash."

. . .

Once Anna was clean, her hair dry and her make up on, the washing machine spinning and her mattress scrubbed, Hawkley made a decision. He followed her downstairs, admiring the flexing of her naked buttocks as she descended, desire for her already crowding out disgust.

"You need a baby," he said. "You have too much time on your hands. No wonder you whore yourself out on the internet and get yourself in trouble. Those breasts should be dispensing milk to an infant, not tempting old men. Right! It's time we fucked in my bed for a change. Come on."

As usual on a working day, their street was empty of cars and Anna was unconcerned about witnesses as she left her house completely naked, or about the raised stones embedded in the tarmacadam road surface piercing her bare feet. Her nudity and her sore feet were really the least of her problems.

. . .

Hawkley's house had that distinctive musty, old person smell but it was clean enough, and the sheets on his enormous modern four poster bed were pristine. The bed was positioned in the middle of the master bedroom. It was the same size as Anna and Elliott's own bedroom but the complete lack of any other furniture made it seem huge and echoey, with ample space around the bed on all sides, as if it were the stage in an in-the-round theatre. Mounted on the wall facing the foot of the bed was a huge TV screen, soundlessly playing an endless stream of explicit pornography. Anna rolled her eyes and seeing her, Hawkley pressed the off switch.

"I have my own real life porn star now, right?" he giggled, leering. "Make yourself comfortable," he told her, and she lay resignedly on the bed as he disrobed. Naked, he crawled between her outstretched legs while simultaneously pulling open a drawer suspended below the mattress. His weight holding her in place, he leaned over and tied her wrists to the bedposts.

He began a leisurely exploration of her body. He was used to seeing her in some sort of lingerie. It was a novelty to see her entirely nude. He traced her collarbone with his tongue, probed the hollow at the base of her throat before setting to work on her breasts. He licked, sucked and chewed her nipples, mashing her breasts together with his hands. Spitting into her cleavage, he began to titfuck her, his weight bearing down uncomfortably on her ribcage. His eyes flicked from his cock, emerging and disappearing between her boobs, to her strained face.

"You really are beautiful, little pig," he said, almost to himself. "Perfect, fuckable body; lovely face. Your Elliott's an idiot for not locking you up and knocking you up. Still, his loss..."

Feeling the semen boiling in his balls, he hastily slid down her body and between her legs. Her pussy was wet and ready and he plunged his throbbing cock deep into the slippery channel. Anna barely winced. Hawkley rammed his weapon into her once, twice, three times and his balls pulsed and shot his load up inside her. He ground his hips against her clitoris until, shuddering, Anna herself came.

He lay on her heavily as the tight walls of her cunt milked the last drops from him, then very carefully he withdrew, taking care not to spill any of the precious spunk he had deposited inside her. He reached again into the drawer beneath the bed and lifted her hips, pushing her legs back over her head until her supple body was bent double. Satisfied, he tethered her ankles to the same bedposts as her wrists.

"Now my seed won't be spilt," he grinned. He laid a quilt over her and left the room. She closed her eyes and began to drift into sleep.

Downstairs, Hawkley opened the contacts list on his phone and began to make calls.

. . .

Hawkley left the front door on the latch to avoid the need to keep getting up to admit his guests. An hour later, the available seating in the lounge and dining room was all occupied. "Standing room only," he thought to himself, rubbing together hands twisted with arthritis.

He had called everyone he could think of and most had not let him down: from the married men he played bridge with, to the widowers from his lunch club, to the two strangers he had given Anna to in the supermarket yesterday. He had sent them the photograph of the sleeping beauty and - recognising the opportunity as one not to be missed - they had dropped what they were doing, excused themselves to their wives or companions and leapt in the car. Some, who could no longer drive themselves, had even had their wives or carers drop them at Hawkley's, saying they would get a cab home.

They were all here to fuck the young woman bound to Hawkley's bed upstairs.

Deliberately distorting the truth in case anyone should experience twinges of conscience, he explained the terms: "The point of this exercise is to get the girl pregnant. Her husband's fertility is sadly compromised and she has asked for my help. I have no idea of my own potency, although obviously I have done my part, and this is my way of getting as much sperm into her as possible. I do hope you can do me - and her - this favour. The more turned on you are, the larger the load you will produce, so do feel free to use her in whatever way will induce most excitement. Fuck her cunt, her mouth, her tits, her arse. But, please - make sure your cock is in her pussy when you come. She must have your seed in her womb to maximise the chance of conception.

"Rest assured, there will be no unpleasant consequences. You are all strangers to her and she will have no way of contacting you after today; nor will there be any way for her to know which of you has fathered any child that may result. Yours will be an altruistic act with no adverse effects on yourself or your nearest and dearest. She will think of you with fondness and gratitude but will have no claim on you.

"Oh, one final thing. If you wish to untie and reposition her (for example to get her on to all fours) please go ahead. However, when you have finished be sure to leave the entire deposit inside her and retie both the wrists and ankles to the bed in the configuration in which you found them. She is bound to be exhausted from repeated penetration and her own climaxes (she is a highly responsive young woman - and, as you know, if she herself cums it will increase her receptiveness). The restraints are not to keep her from escaping - oh dear me, no - but to keep precious sperm from escaping from her pussy.

"Is everyone clear? No questions? Wonderful. Then, I think the easiest way is to do this in alphabetical order of surname. Joseph Allen, that makes you first. Up the stairs, first door on the left."

Joseph Allen got naked more quickly than he had ever done and hastened up the stairs. Seeing Anna's bound form on the bed, her cunt and anus on obscene display, he did not bother to reposition her. He simply rammed his engorged dick into her sloppy hole, kissing her soft lips and thrusting his tongue into her mouth, and pistoned into her for less than one minute before exploding into her with a bellow of lust. She was the first woman he had fucked since his wife had died eighteen months ago, and the prettiest he had fucked in his life.

Gentleman that he was, Joseph sat on the mattress after his climax and rubbed Anna's clitoris with his thumb, sucking on her lovely tits, until she reached her own. Then he kissed her again, said, "You're welcome, my dear," and washed his penis in the en suite before heading back downstairs to tell Robert Austin she was ready for the next one.

Robert Austin was most definitely a breast man. He had brought his phone up to the bedroom and took numerous photographs of Anna's lovely tits: just sitting, jiggling gently; cupped in his big hands; with his cock between them. He sucked on them long and hard, leaving them disfigured with love bites. He made her text her own phone from his so she'd have his number, saying, "I know Len's hot on this anonymity business but if you do have a kid after this, ring me when you're lactating so I can give you a hand managing your milk yield." Anna found the idea of this big, burly, rubicund man feeding from her breasts perversely arousing and pleased him by cumming as he fucked and suckled, her lithe limbs locked around his hips. He himself came with a bellow worthy of a bull-calf.

Geoff Bennett took her doggy style, fingering her hanging nipples, holding onto her hair, slapping her buttocks.

Her arsehole was plundered by William Brooke. Neither Elliott nor Hawkley cared for anal sex, so it was the first time her backdoor had been opened since her first time - that night in Coventry when her Raf had taken her anal cherry and she had been double and triple penetrated by her forum followers. Nostalgic tears coursed down her cheeks as his balls slapped against her buttocks. He was so caught up in it that he almost forgot to slip out of one hole and into the other to deposit his load.

Apparently, Hawkley had no friends whose surname began with C as her next fuck was courtesy of one Harry Davies, a traditionalist who entered her in the missionary position, telling her at first that she was an angel fallen from heaven, but as he approached his climax growing red in the face and foul-mouthed. As he withdrew he had degenerated to calling her a "debauched harlot". Anna was impressed with the breadth of his vocabulary.

After Davies had re-secured her ankles and clattered off downstairs, complaining loudly to his host that her "fuckhole" was loose and sloppy, Hawkley decided it was time Anna took a break. He took her water, Red Bull and buttered crackers, escorted her to the toilet to pee and cleaned her up with a wet towel. Grinning, he inserted two fingers into her pussy and swirled them around, nodding in satisfaction at the sloshing noise they made.