Heathers Second Guilty Pleasure

It was a little over a month since the day my son in law Steve had first tied me to the spare bed with my husband Martin's old neck ties and... raped me. Last Tuesday afternoon saw me secured there once again, with Steve knelt on the bed in front of me, his cock deeply buried in my mouth; it was far from the first time he'd returned since that fateful day.

That had been on a Tuesday too, three weeks ago today; contrary to what Steve had said as he'd walked out leaving me slumped on this very bed with his semen leaking from my pussy, that visit had been almost two weeks after his initial assault. I'd run a dozen vibrator batteries flat and almost worn my fingers to the bone during those intervening days and I was, as Steve had so succinctly put it, 'gagging for it'.

Steve had found me in the kitchen that second afternoon; he was in the room before I'd even realised he was there. Steve's sudden appearance drew a yelp of surprise from me, where after I made some -- no doubt none to convincing - appeal for him to leave me alone and get out. Steve of course ignored that plea, in fact he didn't say a word in reply.

Grabbing me roughly by the shoulders, Steve had spun me around and pushed me face down over the kitchen table. While one hand pressed between my shoulder blades to keep me pinned there, his other hand delved beneath my skirt until it reached the waistband of my panties and jerked those down beneath my knees, from where they slid unaided to my ankles.

Steve's hold was then released and I could hear him unfastening his belt and after that his trousers. It was the perfect opportunity for me to escape his clutches, or at the very least to try; instead, I was busily engaged in extracting at least one of my legs from those panties now entangled around my feet. Shameless doesn't even begin to describe it.

I'd barely made it in time, Steve was already pressing me back down onto the table as I kicked my recalcitrant knickers aside. Seconds later my skirt was re-hoisted and Steve drove two fingers between my legs; in the instant after they penetrated he finally spoke: "Your cunt's dripping Heather; I knew you'd be fucking gagging for my cock again by now."

The primeval growl which those fingers drew from my mouth did nothing to gainsay Steve's opinion. A second growl arrived five seconds later, heralding Steve's substitution of those invading fingers with his cock. Steve's initial penetration was temperate, but those that followed -- there were only a half dozen or so -- were unrestrained; Steve absolutely slammed himself into me.

I've no doubt that Steve could've delivered far more than those half dozen strokes, but he didn't need to; in further if by now unnecessary confirmation of Steve's crude assertions, that was the moment when I orgasmed. I came like that proverbial train, loudly announcing my climax in language that was every bit as lewd, crude and vulgar as that which Steve had used earlier; I lost it completely!

I was so wiped-out by my orgasm that I didn't even register Steve reaching over me to grab the olive oil bottle from the table. I suspect that I might not have noticed his pouring a healthy measure of it between my buttocks either had that oil not been infused with a range of herbs and spices; the chilli's in it delivered a sharp and re-awakening tingle when they reached the delicate flesh of my gaping pussy.

I knew immediately what that douse of oil portended, but in my already dissipated state I'd little fight left in me and Steve's hand, again pressed between my shoulder blades put paid to any I might've managed. A moment later Steve's cock speared into my bum; he drove it hard getting fully half of it in with his first thrust and two more thrusts took care of the rest.

My heart rate and body temperature went through the roof; that first penetration had driven the air from my lungs and I was fighting to regain it as I heard Steve speaking. "Not as tight this week Heather, I'd expected your arse to have closed up tight as a drum again by now".

I hadn't the spare breath to answer, though wouldn't have revealed the truth even had I been able: I'd known that Steve would be taking me in there again and during the intervening days my fingers and toys had been giving my bum almost as much attention as they had my pussy. That was my excuse anyway; that I might have enjoyed their attention was coincidental.

Steve then began sawing his cock in and out of my backside; he was thankfully more restrained than in the way he'd ploughed into my pussy, but I couldn't deny that his action was having a very similar effect. When his fingers slipped into my pussy to join the party by teasing at my clit, my squirms and moans of pleasure ratcheted up even higher.

I heard Steve laugh at that response and a few seconds later he brought his lips close to my ear "My little arse-whore loves that doesn't she. I really will have to bring someone around to share my MILF-slut with. Can you imagine how hard you'll come when there's a cock reaming you from either side Heather?"

Not two seconds later I provided evidence that I perhaps could, when a second violent orgasm ripped through me. I went as stiff as a board in that instant, every muscle in my body clenched tight, even my lips and nothing beyond a keening wail managed to squeeze between my clenched teeth to announce that second climax.

That orgasm seemed to roll on for an eternity, no doubt fueled by the sensation of Steve's come spewing into my bowel; those muscles too had clenched tight around his cock when I climaxed. Steve's cock wasn't moving -- I doubt it could even if he'd wanted to! - but that hardly mattered; it had been Steve's words rather than his cock or those teasing fingers which had triggered that second abrupt orgasm.

It was perhaps another thirty seconds before Steve's cock stopped pulsing inside of me; or perhaps it was my pussy pulsing around his softening cock? Whichever, Steve's cock eventually slipped free and he stepped away from me; I hadn't had the strength to support my own weight and slid to the floor to land in a pool of semen, olive oil and my own fluids.

I must've heard Steve re-fastening his trousers, but if I did, it didn't register. The first thing that did register was Steve's voice calling out from the doorway "Gotta go Heather, I'm late for a job... I'll be back for another go at you soon."

I began howling in frustration barely ten seconds after the door slammed behind him. When was soon? Would Steve be bringing someone else next time? Who would that be? I knew the answers that I wanted to hear: As soon as bloody possible! - Yes Please! - At that moment I didn't actually give a damn who Steve brought with him, just so long as he had a stiff cock!

Steve was right... I was a MILF-slut who was gagging for it; how had Steve brought me to that point in just a few weeks? I'd remained sat on the floor in an expanding pool of fluids -- thank God it's tiled and not carpeted! - for almost half an hour ruminating on that question and in further confirmation of its truth, I'd used my own fingers to bring myself to a third climax while I did so.

That truth of course was far more complex: Steve hadn't transformed a respectable wife and mother into his personal 'little arse whore' in just a few days. No, what Steve had done was to demolish the walls of respectability that a libidinous little slut had spent more than twenty years building around herself:

I'd known Martin my whole life, we'd been in many of the same classes through school and Martin's father and my own did a lot of business together; they were also good friends. Martin was deemed a respectable boy, from a respectable family, so when he invited me to the school's junior-prom, I was allowed to accept Martin's approach.

Actually, I'm not sure that Martin ever did ask me? I suspect that our respective parents just told us we were going together and we accepted the fait accompli. After that, through our final two years in school we were 'dating'; though again, beyond helping each other with school homework and taking Sunday lunch at each other's houses, I can't recall any 'dates',

Two years later we were both eighteen, taking A-Levels and discussing University options; Martin was of course going to Sheffield to study Accountancy. Despite everyone anticipating good results (better than Martin's) in my own exams, my dreams of university were dashed: My father decreed that "You'll be married to Martin and producing children in only a few years; not worth the time and cost."

So, as Martin headed off to Sheffield in September, I was starting work as a secretary and filing clerk in an Quantity Surveyor's office. Another friend and business associate of daddy's; I didn't even know what a Quantity Surveyor did and to be honest, I'm not entirely sure even now... it's something to do with costs on construction projects.

Martin did of course came home most weekends -- Sheffield's only ninety miles away and on a direct train route -- to enable us to enjoy even more 'dates'; I'm not sure how much I did... To be honest I can't even bring any of them to mind nowadays, so they can't have been memorable. Though we did of course have sex; losing our virginities to each other the week before Martin left for University.

That too as I recall was another fait accompli; apropos to nothing on one evening that summer -- daddy was out at the masonic Lodge or some such -- my mother began a conversation about contraception and lo and behold, we were at the doctors two days later to get me checked-over and issued a prescription for contraceptive pills; I suspect that appointment had been made before my mother raised the subject.

Martin and I had sex more than once of course, though not every weekend. About one weekend in three, or four if it were to clash with my menstrual cycle, either Martin's parents or my own would announce that they would be going out for the evening and suggest that we might 'like a night in... just the two of you.' At the time we thought them very liberal and ourselves very adult.

When Martin was home for the Christmas vacation, we became officially engaged. The first I knew of Martin's intentions was when he went down on one knee at a party with both our families present. Coincidental? Probably not; it was the first time we'd had such a gathering so I've always assumed that Martin had been directed by his father or mine.

In celebration of our betrothal, Martin and I had sex several more times than was usual before he returned to Sheffield, including and despite my having been unwell for most of the week, on the Sunday night just before he left. That, depending upon the truth, was to prove either very unfortunate or perhaps my lucky break.

The following Thursday evening there was a birthday party for one of the girls at work; nothing too racy, just a few drinks at a pub near the office after work. As I didn't drink back then -- I don't drink much even now -- it was agreed that I could borrow mummy's Volvo to drive any of my workmates home who wanted a lift after the event... Safer than a mini-cab.

Having delivered four girls home to the south and east of town, I returned to the pub just after seven-thirty to collect Anne and Sandra; they lived in the direction of my own home. They weren't at the table where I'd left them and I was looking around for them when I heard a voice from behind me: "Your friends have gone love... They left with a couple of lads ten minutes ago."

I turned to see Mike Dawson, Micky-D to his friends; I didn't know Mike, but I recognised him from my school days. Mike was a couple of years older than me and one of those boys that you were warned about by friends, parents and even some of the teachers. Certainly good looking and one of the school's sporting stars, but something of a tearaway and a boy to steer well clear of.

Those warnings were perhaps evidenced by Mike's present situation -- it's a small town, so one hears things. Mike worked as a building site labourer and while only twenty he was married to Zoe, a girl who'd been in my year at school. They already had one child, I think a daughter and Zoe was currently pregnant with their second.

I thanked Mike for the heads up and then said something along the lines of "Well in that case, I might as well head for home."

"No, the night's still young. Heather isn't it? You were always a sexy babe when we were at school, but way out of my league... At least stop for a drink before you go."

Yes; I knew Mike was bullshitting, he'd never looked twice at me when we were in school... But he'd remembered my name, so maybe he'd been looking discreetly? After a couple more appeals I agreed to join him with a lime and soda, then after chatting for twenty minutes, I accepted a second; Mike had a couple of friends with him, but they'd drifted away.

It was during that second drink and I don't recall exactly how it happened: Having already gleaned where I lived, Mike mentioned that his next port of call for the evening was the Kings Arms, a pub on the edge of our village. While I declined his offer of having another drink there, I somehow or other agreed to give him a lift there to save him the taxi fare.

Naive to begin with, but that offer looked even more foolish when when his two friends followed us out of the door; I was apparently taking all three of them to the Kings Arms. I compounded that foolishness and no doubt confirmed my naivety when Mike announced en-route that he 'needed to take a leak' and asked me to pull in to a tree shrouded parking area beside the road.

I did as Mike asked and not five minutes later I found myself prone across the back seat of my mother's car. Both rear doors were open and one of Mike's friends stood outside the right-hand side one, grasping both of my wrists and stretching my arms out ahead of me, while Mike's other friend was standing out by the road keeping a lookout.

Mike himself was halfway inside the car's left rear door and having already torn my panty-hose away was dragging my knickers down my legs. I struggled as best I could and screamed at him to stop, but in that isolated spot there was nobody to hear my cries. Those cries concluded with a gasp and an embarrassing moan in the moment Mike jammed two fingers into my pussy.

"Wow, aren't you a juicy little slut Heather, who would've guessed it." In a louder voice, no doubt aimed at his friends Mike added "The little whore's cunt is dripping; she's fucking gagging for it!" I heard growls of approval and encouragement from the other two men as Mike roughly pushed his cock into me; it penetrated easily, no doubt encouragingly so?

While no longer a virgin, I'd never had sex like this before; no hint of love or affection, Mike just fucked me... hard and fast, like... like... Well, like a little whore who was fucking gagging for it! I was still screaming, but those screams as too with the moans and groans which interspersed them, were no longer calling for my release or deliverance.

I'm not sure how long Mike lasted; probably not long at all, but more than long enough to bring me to an explosive and embarrassingly noise orgasm. I'd had orgasms when in bed with Martin of course, but not like this one... never like this one. Confirmation of just how vocal I'd been came from the chap on lookout some fifty feet away; even he had heard me!

A dose of reality arrived during the seconds after I heard Mike growl in my ear and felt his cock begin to pulse as it pumped his semen into my violated pussy; that came from the man in the doorway pinning my arms. He grunted "Me next" then raising his voice to call "Get over here and grab her arms Phil, Mike'll keep watch, then I'll hold her down again afterwards for you."

My stomach churned... It wasn't just to be Mike, all three of them intended screwing me; on reflection, I realised... Why wouldn't they? That roiling in my stomach didn't improved when I felt Mike's weight lift off me and he headed off to take a turn as look out: In a lower voice that un-named man added "I'll leave my cock out when I'm done; then you can suck it clean while Phil's boning you."

I was pondering that fresh indignity when I heard the shouts: "There's a couple of cars and they look to be slowing down... Fucking Hell! The second one's a cop car... Get the car started Tel!" My arms were pushed back into the car and the door was slammed in my face; it almost trapped my fingers as it closed.

I heard the engine starting as Mike bundled my lower half into the rear seat and followed in behind me; he was sat on my legs as he slammed that door too. The wheels were already turning when I saw the shadow of the third man leap into the front passenger seat and that door slammed itself as the car's speed increased and we bounced back onto the road.

I was facing down into the footwell as we sped away, I did at least extricate my legs from beneath Mike and I could hear some of what they were saying, but I couldn't see anything; was that perhaps for the best? At least they couldn't see me either, I knew my face would display an expression of embarrassment but I feared that there might be more than a spark of excitement visible too.

General opinion seemed to be that the police weren't after us, but were stopping the car that was ahead of them; probably to breathalyse the driver? The police car had pulled into the parking area just as we were departing it from the other end; the policemen must have seen us, but they hadn't followed. I could hear then men laughing in relief on knowing they were safe.

The men's voices now dropped, I couldn't hear anything... what were their plans for me? Less than five minutes later I got my answer: The car pulled off the road and drew to a stop, this time the surface was smooth and the area seemed well lit. The two men in the front -- Phil and Tel -- climbed out and slammed the doors behind them.

Mike too had opened his door, but he paused after climbing out. "I'd invite you in for another drink, but we don't want your dad coming out looking for you do we... I'll no doubt see you around Heather." I heard the door slam and sat up; we were in the car park of the Kings Arms and the three men were already walking through its entrance door, without giving me even a backwards glance.

The car keys were still in the ignition, in fact the engine was still running; I moved into the front seat and drove to a more discreet corner of the car park. Once there I cleaned up the liquid mess between my thighs and changed into the spare panty-hose that were in my handbag; I'd no spare panties though and there was no sign of my originals, were they by the roadside, or now a souvenir in Mike's pocket?

I was repairing my make-up when my emotions came home to roost; they could no longer hide when I was eye to eye with myself in the rear-view mirror: Shame and embarrassment of course; but beyond those was that excitement I'd felt earlier and the most over-riding of all... Disappointment; why hadn't the other two men taken me too, surely they could've driven me somewhere else to do it?

It was only a five minute drive home and on arriving I gave my parents a short report of my evening -- though the drive home didn't get a mention -- then having declined mum's offer of something to eat, I took myself upstairs for 'a bath and an early night'.

In the end I wasn't particularly early into bed; I spent nearly two hours in the bathroom reliving every moment of Micky-D's seduction and subsequent assault. When I'd been through that a few times, I moved on to fantasies of what might (should?) have been; most especially having that third man fuck me, while the second one pushed his cock into my mouth.

It was early February before I conceded that contraceptive pills weren't infallible and I took my concerns to mum on a Tuesday evening when daddy was at his Masonic Lodge. At eight-thirty the next morning, we were waiting at the Doctor's surgery when it opened and by early afternoon there was a family gathering, with Martin having been recalled from Sheffield, to discuss the options.