|
The Auditor
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
AUDITOR
-------
They don't make walls like they used to. I mean, there's no privacy
anymore. You might as well be right out on the street.
I'm lying in bed the other night, and my neighbours upstairs have just
come home after a night out. Sarah and Lianne. They're nice enough people -
you know. We nod in the hall. We pass each other in the store and say 'Hi'.
Nice enough people.
They play back their ansaphone messages. I can hear every word, lying
there in the summer dark. Some guy called Alan is okay for dinner Wednesday.
Sarah's mother expects a call on the weekend. I can hear every word.
But, I dunno, maybe it's the frequencies, but I can't hear what Sarah and
Lianne say. They come through as a muffled rumble. The rhythms of their speech,
the tenor of it, is clear enough - but you can't quite catch the words.
I'd love to hear the words. Sarah and Lianne are S&M dykes. I always wondered,
but then once I saw them in the audience on a sub-Oprah talkshow about bondage.
"Jesus," I told the cat, "that's the women upstairs!"
It certainly explained some of the noises.
They're in the bedroom now, right above me. They're murmuring; one of them
laughs aloud. There's a delighted squeal - "No!"
What are they doing, huh? Are they undressed yet?
Down in the pit of my bed, something stirs. I put my hands behind my head
and gaze up at the ceiling. A cupboard creaks open. More shrieking laughter.
Then quiet.
No. No, they can't stop now. What are they doing - going to sleep? Too drunk?
Too tired? Did they slip into some alleyway on the journey home? Is it all
over before it's begun? I lie there fuming. Down in the pit of my bed,
something subsides. They can't do this to me. But the silence holds.
"Oh-h-h-h..."
Hello?
"Uh-h-h-h..."
Aha! One voice, moaning. Why only one? Obviously the other has her mouth full.
Think of that. One lying with her legs apart, feet dangling over the edge of
the Laura Ashley duvet. The other - Lianne, the dark one, at a guess - flicking
her tongue along Sarah's pink gash, from pouting pucker to light brown curls.
Or possibly dark brown curls - I dunno.
Or maybe Lianne's just teasing a hand across Sarah's stomach, never straying
quite as far as the elasticated band of those pink? white? jet-black lace with
embroidered cobalt? panties, simultaneously sinking her teeth into one pale
shoulder - bruising the skin that Sarah will wear tomorrow like a trophy.
I push back the covers and fold my arms across my chest. I cross my
legs at the ankles and wait.
"Uh-uh-uh..."
Sure.
"Mmm-uh-uh-yuh..."
Certainly. Take your time.
"Muh, muh, uhsssssss..."
Yup. Nearly.
"Murmurbermerwer. Yumurmurmurberwer..."
What? What'd she say? They've stopped again. This is ridiculous. I take time
out to coach the primary interested party - hang in there, kid, I say, looking
down. Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.
There's more opening of cupboards upstairs, and a pair of feet moving around.
The bed creaks, as if someone's climbing across it. Then, after a couple of
minutes, someone leaves the room and walks down the corridor toward the
kitchen.
I close my eyes and try to picture the scene. Actually, it's blatantly clear.
They've moved into bondage mode. Lianne, right, brings Sarah to the brink of
orgasm with her cunning and merciless little tongue - running it from nipple
to mound and back again. Sarah's moaning softly - as I heard - and willing
Lianne just to move down an inch or two further, just to touch her quivering
clit, just there, there. Lianne's grinning, with her tongue out, looking up
at Sarah's face. Down she slides once more, past the navel, across the slight
swell of the lower belly, into the curls. As her tongue reaches the fold
of Sarah's cunt, she jigs slightly to one side, sidestepping the desperate
clitoris, and skipping lightly along the outside of one unfurling lip. It's
good, but it's not enough. Sarah's breath catches - "Oh, please, lick it,
for God's sake..."
"Not yet," says Lianne. "I don't think you want it enough. Wait there."
Or, as it sounded to me,
"Murmurbermerwer. Yumurmurmurberwer..."
So, I reckon, Lianne went to the cupboard and got out the handcuffs or rope
or whatever, tied Sarah spreadeagled to the bed and then - and this is the
good part - went to the kitchen and just left her there! Incredibly fucking
sexy! Quite deliberately left the room and went to get some OJ or something!
Astonishing!
I uncross my arms. Also, my legs.
I've got to admit that Lianne's showing remarkable self-control. She's been
gone for nearly five minutes by my digital. I don't know what effect this
is having on Sarah, but it's winding me up like a neurotic carjack. I've got
a hard-on I'm having to push to one side just to keep my eye on the ceiling.
At last, the footsteps return from the kitchen.
More murmuring. Determined murmuring, low and threatening. Oh-oh.
There's a silence - and then the sound of a slap.
"AHH!"
That was Sarah.
"Uh?"
That was me. I'm momentarily thrown, and I have to re-adjust my mental
picture. Of course - Sarah's face down.
Another slap. "Ohh, yeah!" Slap! Slap!
Okay, I grab it. I deserve it - I've been a paragon of restraint so far.
The spanking goes on. I've got my eyes shut, but I can see perfectly
clearly. Lianne stripped to her bra and panties, bringing her hand down on
Sarah's lilywhite ass. Sarah, arms and legs flat and spread, rising hopelessly
to meet and cushion each stroke. Her pussy is gaping and moist, spilling
rivulets onto the crisp sheets. Lianne's right hand lingers after each blow,
whilst her left wanders absently over her own silk-covered slit.
Uhhngg... not yet. Wait, boy, wait.
The spanking stops. Sarah and I relax. There's more climbing on the bed -
Lianne is undoing the shackles. There's an almost whispered, gulping sentence
from Sarah. What's she saying? 'Thank you'? 'More'? 'My turn..'? Lianne
speaks, again in that uncontrovertible growl. Sarah begins to reply, but she's
cut off in mid-sentence. "Nermurb...guk..." she says.
You don't have to be Sherlock Holmes, do you? Lianne has straddled Sarah's face,
smearing her still-clad cunt across the other girl's nose and mouth. Am I
guessing? I don't think so. There's a throaty moan from Lianne, and a steady,
rhythmic creak, as she rocks to and fro on her knees, pressing her box down
onto Sarah's tongue.
They're really putting me through it here.
Lianne lets out a sudden 'AH!'. She's pulled her panties away from her crack,
and Sarah's tongue has slipped right in. She must be working it hard, because
the tempo of the creaking has moved up a gear. Lianne's a chanter, it turns out.
"Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!" She sounds like Laurie Anderson on speed. Me, I'm trying
hard to keep up, but desperate not to get ahead.
And then - oh, Christ, they must be doing this on purpose - I hear that
unmistakeable electric buzz. Which one of them's got it? Which one of them
would I like to have it? I decide it's Lianne. She's leaning forward as
Sarah licks her frothing cunt, and she slides the vibrator across the raised
nub of Sarah's clit. There's a gasp - more muffled than I usually hear. It's
Sarah, feeling the vibrator as it noses along her split, as it pauses briefly
on her ass, as it inches back to her hole and slides in like a Jag
into a Director's parking space.
I nearly lose it, at this point. "AHHHH, FUCK...." I shout, but I hold back,
just in time. There's a sudden silence. Then low talking. Jesus, of course,
they can hear me as well as I can hear them. And they must be thinking that I
may well be hearing them, as they heard me.
I wait, with my breath held, as if that would make any difference. Nothing.
Come on, come on. You can't stop now. You know you're dying for it. Don't
mind me - I'm asleep. Really. Fast asleep.
I don't know what they do next. Maybe they finish off real quiet. Or maybe
I broke the mood, and they've just gone to sleep. Anyway, apart from a few
creaks of the bed and the click of a light switch, nothing else happens.
I pull the covers back up to my chest, and slump back onto the pillow.
Shit. I was enjoying that.
Beside me, she rolls over and opens her eyes.
"You still awake, honey? What's the matter?"
For a split second I consider pushing my luck, but I'd only end up
disappointed. And what the hell - the first Saturday in the month is only
eleven days away.
"Nuthin," I tell her. "Go back to sleep...."
|
|
