Here is my latest effort. The story is quite long, but hopefully it will keep you amused. This work of fiction contains explicit descriptions of sexual acts that may upset some people and is definitely not suitable for persons under 18, so if that applies to you please move on. As always, any resemblance to persons living or dead are purely accidental. All characters are made up from my own warped imagination. The story belongs to me, so please do not use it without my consent. The story is written in a utopian World devoid of STD`s or unwanted pregnancies.
Thank you for taking the time to read as I am writing just for my own fun, so if you want to write a review I assure you that all will be read and digested in the hope of improving any future works. Best Wishes The Colonel.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Chapter 1
Peter let out a satisfied sigh as Lee slipped off his body and his slimy dick exited his wife`s vagina as she settled down next to him, then snuggling into the crook of his arm. It had been customary over their five-year marriage, if Peter was off or on late shift, for Lee to wake him in this manner on her return from the night shift at the Childrens hospital where she worked as a nurse. Lee always seemed invigorated on her return from work, and rode him frenziedly until they both came loudly, their bodies moving and sweating in unison.
Peter kissed his wife on her short dark hair as her fingers played lazily with the strip of hair running from his navel to the thatch of wiry brown hair above his now limp penis. They had not spoken since Lee had woken him with her lips around his cock, then mounted his burgeoning hardness, grabbed two handfuls of his chest hair, and ground herself against him with an urgency that never ceased to surprise Peter.
After their intense and strenuous lovemaking, they were content to lie in each other's arms as their breathing returned to a more regular pattern. "How was the night?" he asked as his hand played with her hair.
Lee was quiet for a few beats then answered sadly, "Not so good. You remember I told you about Ali, the kid with Leukaemia?" Peter nodded silently as she added, "We lost him at three this morning. His parents were distraught."
"I can imagine." Peter now knew the reason for his wife's wild lovemaking. Whenever she "lost" a patient it was if she wanted to celebrate the fact that she was still alive. They had talked about having kids themselves, but Lee had always told him that she had seen so much misery in the hospital that she couldn`t bare it if that happened to their child, so she was quite happy to have thirty or forty different children every day rather than one of her own. For Peter he was not fussed one way or the other, so was happy for Lee to make the decision.
They lay entwined in silence for a few minutes longer, both with their own thoughts before Peter used the remote to switch on the massive flat screen TV attached to the wall at the end of the bed. The screen filled with a large picture of two women engaged in sex with a rather well-endowed man. Lee giggled and elbowed her husband in the ribs. "You dirty fucker!" she said between giggles. "I`m working my balls off and you're in bed wanking and watching porn!"
Peter gave an embarrassed snort. He had returned late from his shift last night and had indeed had a quick wank whilst watching the porn channel. He must have forgotten to switch channels before sleeping.
"Am I not enough for you?" Lee asked jovially as her hand encircled his flaccid dick causing it to stir in her palm.
Deciding to just confess he said, "Of course Darling, but I knew what was coming this morning so decided to have a quick wank so I would last longer. Everything I do is just to make you happy baby. I didn`t enjoy watching it at all." They both erupted into fits of laughter before Peter aggressively flung his wife onto her back and slid between her thighs as her hand fumbled his now rigid prick into her slimy snatch.
It was nearly ten minutes later when Peter used the TV remote to switch to the news channel. They watched as the weather forecast described a week of sporadic rain for the Capital where they both lived and worked, then Peter sat up with a start as the announcer said, "We have breaking news in the Chelsea Hargreaves story."
Peter listened intently as this was his case. He and his fellow detectives had been looking for the heiress for the past two days since she disappeared at the end of a day's shopping in the West End. The screen filled with a picture that he knew so well. The long blonde hair was tastefully styled, and her unblemished face looked much younger than the forty-five years that Peter knew her to be. She was a truly beautiful woman with a perfect oval face, high cheek bones and a small straight nose. Peter had seen other photos of Chelsea in a bikini that told him that her body was as perfect as her face. Long athletic legs. Flat tummy, peach shaped bottom and grapefruit sized breasts.
Chelsea Hargreaves had inherited the Hargreaves fortune on the death of her father ten years ago. The Hargreaves company was the largest sugar importer in the UK and her fortune was estimated to be North of one billion pounds. She had no children or siblings and was married to Ben Giles, an ex-Male model fifteen years her junior. They had been seemingly happily married for six years and shared a multi-million-pound apartment in Mayfair that was on three levels and over two hundred and fifty square yards, not counting the massive roof terrace with views over central London.
As Peter listened to the anchor woman tell him that a body had been found on Clapham Common that was believed to be that of the missing heiress his mobile buzzed on the nightstand.
"Peter!" came the tinny voice of Detective Superintendent Charlie Smithers.
"Yes Guv, I`m watching it now. Will be there in thirty!" He hung up and watched the rest of the report, with helicopter shots of a large white tent and figures moving around in white paper body suits on a patch of wasteland.
Peter showered quickly as he played over what he knew about the case. Her husband Ben had been immediately installed as the main suspect when he had reported her missing two days after she was last seen four days ago. He was quickly eliminated when it was discovered that he had spent the last few days shacked up with a model on a Coke, alcohol and sex binge that had lasted three days. He had been alibied by the model and the extensive CCTV system that her high-end building employed, meaning that even if he had not been stoned out of his head it was physically impossible for him to have had a hand in his wife's disappearance.
Apart from that they had come up empty. No one had seen or heard from Chelsea since she left the exclusive Lingerie shop in Bond Street where she had spent more than a thousand pounds on underwear, stockings, and tights. She was seen walking down Bond Street. They had followed her progress on CCTV in the shopping throngs all the way to Oxford Street then lost her. She had simply just disappeared.
She had stopped to answer her mobile and was hidden behind a passing bus for a few seconds, then just vanished. How or where nobody could fathom. There were no doors or alleys, so there was nowhere for her to go. The CCTV cameras on the side of the road where she had been walking were out of service, so the detectives only had the cameras from across the street to work with. Chelsea Hargreaves had vanished into thin air.
As he towelled himself dry Peter thought about the mobile call she had apparently answered. There was no call on her registered mobile, so the police had deduced she had some kind of burner phone. Indeed, from the grainy CCTV it was possible to see that the phone she had used was a cheaper version than the top of the range iPhone she was known to own.
A dive into her life had thrown up no red flags apart from cash withdrawals of a thousand pounds once a week from the same cash machine in the City of London that the detectives could find no reason for, or why she was in that area at all. Her husband had acted nonchalantly when asked about these withdrawals, saying that they weren`t a lot of money and it was normal for his wife to use this cash for tips and taxis. Why she was in the City he didn`t know, but presumed it was to do with her multitude of investments, although the detectives could find no evidence that she had been there for any financial reasons.
Apart from this there was nothing to suggest that Chelsea Hargreaves was anything more than a very rich woman living a life of luxury. There was a membership to an exclusive gym in Fulham that explained her toned and athletic body. She spent at least an hour there nearly every day apart from Sunday. In fact, she had spent an hour there on the morning of her disappearance. She had accounts at all the top boutiques in the West End. She used the best London restaurants to dine with Ben, alone or with friends.
Her closest friends had been quizzed and none could throw a light on why she may have disappeared. All reported that Chelsea and Ben seemed happy together and nearly all of them told detectives that Chelsea had not been shy in describing the excellent sex life that she enjoyed with Ben. Some had admitted reluctantly that sometimes Chelsea`s descriptions of what she and Ben got up to were a little too graphic at times.
She had no car but preferred to use taxis to move around the city. Ben`s Maserati had not moved for a week in the underground parking of their apartment building.
Chelsea would attend a beauty spa around the corner from where they lived for a weekly massage, body waxing and hair appointment. This was her Sunday ritual, and she was normally there from ten until five, making use of the swimming pool and sauna as well as various beauty treatments. She had attended the spa the day before she disappeared last Monday, leaving at five fifteen and returning home. At seven she had met three female friends for dinner at Roberto`s in Kensington before taking a taxi home at midnight. All had been confirmed by CCTV and witness statements. Nobody reported anything out of the ordinary and in fact most had reported that Chelsea was in high spirits.
This was the first day of Ben`s tryst with the model, but detectives could find no communication between the two. Both their mobiles showed no contact, and there were no e-mails or texts from Chelsea`s accounts that could help with locating her. The police computer specialists had gone very deeply through Chelsea`s laptop, that was still on her desk at home. Nothing there except a few racy pictures and videos of Chelsea and Ben.
