Call Me Ath

The very first time I saw her step down from their green Porsche 4x4 I knew that I wanted to fuck my new neighbour, my hard and throbbing dick told me so, insistently. She had fabulous grey shoulder length hair. She wasn't that old though, late thirties, early forties, somewhere around there; heavy breasts, wide hips but a trim waist; a regular, old-fashioned hourglass figure. Screw titless size 10's with falsies, she was what perfect is, the real deal, designed and constructed for serious fucking. And, let's face it, anyone dumb enough to buy a green Porsche 4x4, well he's begging to have his expensive trophy borrowed off of him and fucked over regularly; just no class. If a real man wants a 4x4 he gets a Toyota truck, if he wants a sports car, at the very least, it's a Ferrari or a Morgan, not some pissy underpowered Porsche. Come on, what the fuck use is a green 4x4 Porsche to anyone?

So, 'call me Kath,' all pouting lips, liquid brown eyes, simpering looks, always crossing and uncrossing her legs, always in a short dress or skirt - well aside from when she sunbathes in the back garden, never seen such a skimpy thong - she simply begs for it. Then there's Jerry: gold Rolex, Gucci shoes, Armani suits, Crombie coats, top of the squash ladder, scratch golfer, merchant banker and owner of a fucking sad green Porsche 4x4. OK. she's got a silver grey Merc. convertible that he mostly drives. Still, every time he comes around here he gets pissed, brags, blusters, bullies and finally falls asleep. Always away on business and he leaves behind a sweet peach like that, a perfect piece, all ripe for plucking and it'll be so juicy inside: oh yes, I wanted some of that dribbling off of my chin alright.

Kath; well she flirts mightily, even lets me squeeze under her bottom without sincere protest, sometimes presses right back onto my hand. And at our New Years bash, I thought she was trying to use her tongue to perform a tonsillectomy on me. But she won't put out for me; bitch. Yes bitch. I want her, she knows it, she encourages it, so she's a tease. Married to Mr. bloody Rich, who's such a shit, with really poor taste, a total sheep in wolf's clothing. Baa. Still I got my way in the end and now she's my bitch, 'aren't you my little stolen pet?'

She says, 'woof woof.' That means yes. We don't have a code for no, it's not a word she's permitted to use when she's with me.

We live in a pretty wealthy neighbourhood, moved here when I sold my first company. Not one of Google's major acquisitions but big enough to keep me in candy and clover forever. At first I ripped my life apart, fast cars, loose women, hard liquor, idleness then divorce and even after that I was still stinking rich. The trouble was I missed the business so I sobered up and built up a new one. Converted the old stables at the end of the garden and resumed churning out computer code. Next thing there's a woman answering the emails for me, then two, then three other coders appear; soon it's ten women answering the emails. Quite a little business, growing happily and it keeps me straight, sober and off the streets. The trouble was that all those loose women had left me with a taste for extreme sex. Not really Kinky. More stuff you can't do or things you can't have, like whips, chains, SS uniforms, pleading, begging and, naturally, humping 'call me Kath.'

Tuesday, yes it was a Tuesday: I was gazing out of the window wondering where the fuck the bug was, the bug in my computer code you dumb-arse, pay attention or bugger off. Anyway I saw 'call me Kath,' lead her tennis coach through the French windows and into their lounge, lead him by the hand that is. Well towed would be more accurate, perhaps even dragged would not be too strong. She must have been hot and sweaty because as soon as she stepped inside she shrugged her shirt and shorts off, just like that. What tits! What a superb pair, God was my dick stiff, a real boner. Then he shrugged off his kit and without any further ado he fucked her long and hard in one of the vast leather chairs that Jerry is so proud of. They hammered away, rested and then he pushed her face down over the coffee table and took her again, this time doggy style. I softened a bit, penis envy, my God did that coach have a king-sized dick, or what? Regular donkey man and that physique too.

Finally, after he had ridden her for a third time - on this last occasion she sat in one of the chairs with her legs over his shoulders, him knelt in front of her hammering away - she made me feel really belittled and useless. She got up, went over to the vast light oak sideboard they have in there and opened a drawer. From there she took out a purse, counted out a bundle of notes and handed them over to her coach. She was actually paying him to shag her! I would have given her that for free and been glad to. Also, I'm bloody brilliant in the sack. OK not as big as Donkey-Kong there was but still fucking wonderful alright. And she was actually paying him! So he's got a really long and very fat sausage but I've got technique and I work hard at it. I'd have made her beg before I fucked her and as she came you'd have heard her scream in my office, double glazing or no.

Of course after that I watched more carefully, I took in binoculars, visited the coffee machine less. I didn't have to wait long either, Thursday was the same: well different positions and she offered him a glass of champagne after they were done rutting and before she paid him but still the same long hard fucking. Next Tuesday he screwed her stupid once more, there was a pattern forming and I got busy to exploit it. I was going to have a piece of that, cut myself a real big wedge of her nice juicy pie.

I moved my office, my staff were used to me being capricious so no one even bothered. OK, I'm intolerant and unpredictable but I pay the coders bloody well and the bevy of email answering Mum's can work whatever hours they damn well please just as long as all the shit from the paying punters that comes in gets dealt with quickly. I locked up my old office, had a sign made for the door 'research and development' and had a ton of kit delivered. High definition video cameras, around 3.8k x 2.2k pixels, up to 120 frames per second; juicy! Telephoto lenses, motion trackers, 50 T Bytes of RAID 6 storage in fact I bought everything you could possibly use for high definition surveillance.

Three weeks later I had six hours footage of 'call me Kath' porn from three or four different angles so I set too and cut and cropped a grade A fucking-video, pity there was no sound though. But that was coming. I'd gone over for one of Jerry's 'boys nights' taking the ultra high def. versions of the porn videos featuring Shea - Oh, you know the one; Game of Thrones, shagged Tyrion, bloody gorgeous. As the guy's watched her doling it out the little computer drive I'd delivered them on quietly introduced a key tracker and a little bit of code into Jerry's computer. Three days later my computer cheerfully informs me that I have all his log on details; in fact the damn thing's a bit too good, I also have his credit card numbers, debit card numbers and even the log in details for his bollody Swiss bank account; peachy sweet. And now I know what keeps the gorgeous 'call me Kath' at his side, she spends at an eye watering rate, like the stuff is going out of fashion. OK I admit, I could not afford to run her, that's one lust of hers that I could not satisfy. Also, well bloody hell, dull old Jerry certainly raked in some of the green stuff: was it, I wondered, all legit?

Six weeks later I have another six hours footage with sound. Simple really, once in the house it was easy to tunnel through into her tablet and activate the mike whenever I fancied. Oh yes this was so sweet, they were so hacked. It was the last week in September before I made my first move, time to act anyway the tennis season was drawing to a close. Kath was sat in the lounge watching crap on the huge TV when I started a broadcast delivered through her internet connections just for her, 'we interrupt this program to bring you a special announcement...' It was her being shagged by her tennis coach, his tanned, bobbing, bum half filling the screen whilst her screams of delight blasting through the sound system must have been deafening her. She jumped to her feet, clapped a hand over her mouth and goggled.

As she reached a climax the view changed to a split screen, half showing her and the coach banging away diligently, the other half a close up of her face. Ecstasy personified, she was so obviously coming so hard for him and, just in case, the racket she made as she did so: well if you had had any doubt that she was enjoying herself the sighs and yelps exploded that myth, totally. As Kath on the screen dissolved into wave after wave of orgasmic bliss Kath in the flesh simply collapsed back onto her chair, literally flopped. After that she was riveted: Kath taking it doggy and loving it, Kath impaling herself upon him and bucking like a jack-rabbit and then the grand finale, a simple screen of text, 'coming soon to a porn channel subscribed to by Gerald Green.'

Kath stared round disconsolately her head scanning from side to side, as if she could spot the camera. Of course she couldn't there was a thin screen of trees between her and my old stables; recently pruned strategically but she would not make out the significant gaps from that distance. Anyway the windows of my premises where all darkened, all green, energy efficient and money saving. Not ideal for filming but simple cold hard cash had purchased higher aperture lenses than normal.

Three days later I played her the video again but this time just when she was expecting Gerald home at any minute. She scrabbled with the controls frantically but soon resigned herself to fact that all she could manage was to turn the screen and the sound off, the channel remained resolutely unchanging. Then I added the overlay, flashing red text, ' tomorrow morning sit stark naked in your favourite shagging chair, leg spread wide, arms by your sides, from ten until ten thirty or Gerald Green will see this.' The next day, that was day four PB (post blackmail) would tell me all, if she sat naked as instructed she was going to be mine. But before I went around and fucked her I'd decided that I might as well have some fun with the poor sod. Do Jerry a favour in a way, keep her indoors not spending on her credit card. Also there was footage that I wanted desperately and had been unable to collect.

Day four PB and Yes!! At ten o'clock exactly Kath walked into the lounge stark naked, sat in the chair and spread her legs. She was a little disobedient, fidgeting and getting up to fetch herself a drink but not too stupid. For example, she made no effort to hide her breasts or cover her pussy. Day six PB she sat in the chair, spread the lips of her pussy wide and held them there, displaying the most intimate aspects of her cunt. Day eight she rubbed her clitoris for me. Within two weeks I had the vital footage, Kath masturbating herself to orgasm for the camera. Week three, day eighteen PB was the day I decided that I would shag her in a way that she would remeber.

Day eighteen, ten in the morning and Kath walked into the lounge completely naked as usual, unlocked the French windows and went and sat in her usual chair. Next she donned the mask that had been delivered that very morning. It covered her face leaving just the tip of her nose and her mouth free and forced her long grey hair into a ponytail that stuck out the back of it. She could not see a thing in it. Next she stood up and felt her way, gingerly, to the coffee table, found it, walked around it and sprawled over it with her bum facing me in my old office, legs splayed as wide as she could: just I had instructed her. I enjoyed a cup of coffee and made her wait, immobile, unable to see, deliciously exposed and totally vulnerable.

Climbing over the fence between our two properties was more difficult than I expected but I managed, eventually. Next time, and there was going to be a next time, I would have a small ladder ready. I walked out from the orchard at the bottom of her lawn and crossed the damp grass in my black shoes, black trousers, black long sleeved t-shirt, black jacket, black leather gloves and black balaclava. If the security cameras did point my way they'd not tell much of a story.

I opened the windows, slipped inside and closed them again behind me. Kathy shivered on the table. I crossed over to her, the metal clips I'd tapped into my heels clacking nosily on the wooden floor, and slapped her rump hard. She squealed with pain and outrage and then lay totally dormant. She had understood my instructions that she was to remain completely passive and do nothing to alter the course of events; how delicious I thought to myself. Next, I had decided to scare a little before I took my pleasure in her, raise the hairs on the back of her neck. First I popped a mint into my mouth and then simply walked round and round her, the clack of my heels on the hard wooden floor allowing her to follow my progress. Every time I reached her exposed bottom I swatted it viciously. In the beginning I struck the globes high up but gradually worked downwards and inwards towards the crack, welting the more tender flesh, increasing the sharpness of the fiery stings.

At one stage I paused at her side and leant across. The mint had moistened my mouth and I allowed my saliva to dribble down onto the small of her back and then slowly directed the flow so that if fell lowed and lower along the crack of her buttocks. Kath shivered violently, my spittle glistening on her lightly tanned skin and dribbling down her crack. After that I resumed my noisy strutting perambulation around her, slapping her arse all the harder each time I reached those inviting twin orbs.

Once her cheeks were good and reddened and causing her some obvious discomfort I ceased spanking her, stood in front of her, lifted her left hand and kissed her wedding ring, just to rub in her infidelity to dear Jerry. After that I walked around back to her crimson, smarting rump, felt down my trousers and opened one of those ridiculously huge pockets low down on the sides of the thighs. From that I extracted a large pot of petroleum jelly and used a gloved finger to scoop out a huge blob of the gooey stuff. This I worked into Kath's anus as I allowed my weight to rest on my hands which were splayed over her red and tender flesh. At first I just pressed the tip of a finger against the exterior of her tightly puckered pink hole but gradually worked it deeper and deeper inside of her. Kath's response, I'm not sure, either a deep groan or a long moan, something between the two really. Still she lay there completely passive, accepting my intimate invasion of her anus.

Once Kath was used to having my finger inside of her I retrieved a butt plug from the same leg pocket, a delightful heavy metallic creation with a fox tail attached, lubricated it carefully and forced that into her arse. She grunted as it gradually stretched her tight little hole and relaxed as it slipped deep inside of her but otherwise made no protest or comment. Still wait until she saw it; the plug I planned to leave behind inside of her, so next time she could chill it in the fridge and then afford me the delight of watching her have to plug herself.

It was Kath's turn to give me a shock, when I ran a finger down between the lips of her pussy she sighed loudly as it skidded suddenly along her unexpectedly slick wetness. She was dripping. Far from scaring or upsetting her, my degrading treatment was driving her wild with lust and desire. I teased her clit with a leather clad forefinger and she began to squeal and then pant. I knew that sound, I had recorded Kath coming to a climax many times and that was where she was heading, rapidly. The pace, rhythm and depth of her panting changed and when I judged her to be at the point of blissful release I simply stopped.

"Fuck no," she wailed without thinking.

Five hard swipes on each of her buttocks delivered with my leather encased hands shut her up instantly, the protruding orbs of her naked posterior flushed further with freshly coursing blood. Time to rub her clit and make her desperately needy again I decided. I stroked and teased, varying the sensations between the soft smooth leather pad over the finger and the coarser stitching across the tip. Her sighs and groans of desire rose in a pitiful crescendo but each time I stopped just in time to deny her the orgasm she needed so badly. She now remained passive and accepting, keeping her frustrations to herself: but then no wonder, the redness of her buttocks, which was persisting far longer than I had dared to hope, explained her apparent self-control. I was enjoying this but soon I was going to have to divest my rock hard shaft of its increasingly urgent stock, the twitching in my pants was becoming intolerable and I could feel thin moisture dribbling from the tip.

I had chosen my trousers with care, the large metal zipper was exaggeratedly loud so when I undid myself in preparation for her fucking Kath had no doubt about what was about to happen. She certainly did realise because, on hearing my preparations, she began to mew with pleasure and wiggle her buttocks provocatively. I grabbed her hair yanking her head back, lifted her fox tail tugging gently on the butt-plug, set the purple head of my throbbing tool against her pulsing pussy and thrust forwards viciously. Kath screamed then whimpered but, despite the roughness of my stroke, she was squealing and squirming with delight. On my second stroke I reached around and tickled her clit and this time her scream was a desperate response to the sheer force of her explosive and exploding orgasm. She was coming, coming hard and coming over and over again. There she was, blackmailed, defiled and degraded and she was loving it.

Watching my already lusty fat cock opening, invading and then sliding deep inside of her, time after time, soon had me coming too. Thick white splodge after thick white splodge jetting inside her slick cunt made me jerk my hips convulsively. As I pumped into her hungry muff, grunting with animal satisfaction, I revelled in the thought that I had finally managed to cuckold Jerry. Kath howled and screeched her joy at receiving my load, or maybe she was simply enjoying her hard rough fucking; either way her cries of delight spurred me on to spurt longer and harder than I could ever recall doing before. When I was done I was drained. Still I could manage one final little humiliation.

I withdrew, walked around the front of her, yanked her head up by the hair again and as I pressed my rapidly softening cock against her lips I hissed in her ear the first words I had spoken, "clean me up, bitch." She took my member in her mouth and began to suck and lick our mingled juices from it. If she objected or found this distasteful she showed no sign. Indeed her lapping and slurping of our sexual outpourings appeared to be undertaken with genuine enthusiasm. What a lovely, wanton, obedient slut I thought as I started to plan the next display of depravity she was going to put on for me.