Obsession Read online

  ‘Well,’ he said in a low and gruff voice. ‘What have we here?’

  Katie smiled and swayed provocatively from her waist down. ‘What does it look like?’

  His eyes met hers and he leered before gazing again on the pubic hair that still glistened with the wetness of Phoebe’s tongue.

  ‘A quim,’ he answered. ‘A quim for the taking.’ With trembling hands, he began to undo his belt. Still Katie smiled and did not move. She looked him up and down.

  ‘Which do you prefer, you great male brute? Blondes or brunettes?’

  His fingers stopped fumbling at his trousers and he stared at her. He blinked before answering.

  ‘Blondes, if yer must know.’

  Abruptly, Katie dropped her skirt. ‘Then I think my friend would suit you better. Show him your quim, Phoebe.’

  Phoebe stared at her friend. Enlightenment caused her stare to soften as she remembered that Katie’s sex was already occupied. She giggled, then raised her skirt, undid the buttons of her camiknickers which fastened at the waist, and let them fall to her ankles.

  A profusion of golden hair and a vivid slash of red flesh came into view.

  The man sucked in his breath and, hardly able to contain himself, finished unbuttoning his trousers. From deep within, he pulled out a magnificent prick which was purple and crowned with a head that shone and smelt of man.

  Phoebe’s eyes looked fit to pop.

  Katie admired it, but looked thoughtful. Slowly, she raised her skirt.

  ‘You prefer blondes, and my friend brunettes. I insist she continues to pleasure me. If you want her, you have to take her from behind.’

  The man’s square jaw dropped open. He stared at Katie in disbelief, yet his prick jerked violently. Obviously, the picture she had painted had seriously affected him.

  Phoebe exchanged a glance and a smile with Katie then, turning her back on the man, she bent over, flicked her skirt over her back, and balanced herself by holding onto Katie’s hips.

  Her tongue was already poking at Katie’s clit when the man’s hands ran over her behind and his hot prick came up behind her.

  Katie had judged this man, and judged him correctly. The sight of Phoebe’s naked behind had proved irresistible.

  Triumphantly, Katie looked from the man to the bobbing head of Phoebe. She let her skirt drop over Phoebe’s head, then held her steady as the man aimed and clove between the lips of Phoebe’s sex.

  As the man thrust, Katie moaned. Phoebe’s tongue was being pressed even more deliciously into her inner folds of flesh.

  It was an ecstatic experience. She could smell the man who thrust and heaved at her friend, could almost touch him, and yet it was not her he was taking.

  She shared the excitement in his eyes, the rushing of his breath as he reached his climax. She felt Phoebe become more agitated as she reached hers. From this combination of sharing and seeing and touching, Katie herself shuddered to a climax.

  In unison, the girls let their skirts drop.

  The man rebuttoned his trousers. The wildness returned to his eyes as he looked from one to the other.

  What now? Katie asked herself, aware that the wetness between her legs was beginning to run down her thighs. Would he want to take her too?

  There was a tinkle of metal as something fell to the ground. It was the spoon. Katie had become so wet and slippery it could do nothing else but fall to the ground.

  ‘I’ll not be paying you mind!’ the man exclaimed in a loud and aggressive voice, his eyes shifting from one young woman to the other.

  Katie bent down and retrieved the spoon which the man had not noticed.

  ‘Of course not,’ she said, smiling sweetly. ‘We must pay you. Here. Take this teaspoon. It is silver.’

  She twirled it -in front if his face. It smelt like she did.

  His eyes almost met over the bridge of his nose as he tried to focus on the twirling spoon. His hand reached up and snatched it away.

  ‘Why not? It’s time someone paid me for my services instead of me paying them!’

  He pocketed the teaspoon and strode off through the doorway.

  ‘Keep it to remember us by!’ shouted Katie. The man did not answer.

  ‘Every time you stir your tea,’ Phoebe added, and began to laugh.

  They laughed most of the way home.

  ‘I can’t get it out of my mind,’ said Phoebe before they parted. ‘You asking him whether he preferred blondes or brunettes. What a caper! Did you know what his answer would be?’

  Katie shook her head. ‘Not really.’

  She didn’t add that even if he had said he preferred brunettes, she would have suggested he try a blonde for a change. But, like Phoebe, the man was not devious and that was something she had counted on.

  Anyway, Katie would not allow her thoughts to dwell on the man who had been so easy to bend to her wishes.

  Carew was still in her mind.

  Chapter 3

  Phoebe’s parents were off to the South of France, so their beloved daughter took advantage of the fact. With the careless grace of the young and wealthy, she invited Katie and two suitable young men down to the country and promised tennis and a punt along the river.

  It was a russet-red sunset when they played their last game, but was far more humid than when they had played their first.

  ‘I’m too hot to go on,’ Phoebe announced as her right arm and her racket dropped like a lead weight to her side.

  ‘So am I!’ Katie threw down her own racket and gulped at the fizz of champagne and orange that had been poured over a mountain of ice in a gallant-sized ice bucket. There were glasses but her thirst was too big for them. It took both hands to raise it to her mouth but, even so, a trickle escaped and joined the sweat that ran in a fragile rivulet between her breasts.

  ‘Lovely,’ she murmured through pursed lips, and shimmied from neck to ankles so that the creeping liquid could run down over her belly and crystallize among her pubic hairs.

  ‘Have you two run out of stamina?’ asked Edgar. He was dressed in tennis whites and was lying out fiat on the grassy bank that surrounded the court. He kept his eyes closed and barely raised his head as he spoke.

  ‘We lasted longer than you,’ Katie called back at him.

  He opened one eye and viewed her sardonically. ‘You always last longer than me,’ he said, and closed his eye again.

  Katie laughed and tossed her glossy hair. ‘That, my dear Edgar, is a true fact indeed and does not necessarily apply to tennis!’

  Edgar grunted but refused to comment.

  Katie stretched, moved her head from side to side, and rubbed her hand around her sweating neck.

  ‘I could do with a swim,’ she said.

  ‘Then let’s go for one,’ said Johnnie Cross Hammond, who considered himself a bit of a catch, though Katie had told him she’d thrown away bigger fish than him.

  He sprang to his feet and clapped his hands together.

  ‘Right,’ he said with more enthusiasm than sense, ‘who’s game?

  Edgar re-opened one eye, tutted, and closed it again. ‘I’ll think about it,’ he said. ‘Anyway, I haven’t brought my swimsuit.’

  Katie took her cue. ‘No need of clothes, Edgar darling. Remember Natal? The heat of Africa? Come on, a swim will do us all the world of good.’

  Edgar opened his eyes and raised his head. His look was purely for Katie.

  ‘Great!’ Johnnie was still all enthusiasm. He licked his chops.

  Edgar got to his feet. ‘All right. I give in.’

  ‘Right,’ said Johnnie. ‘Where’s the pool?’

  Phoebe beamed and Katie laughed.

  ‘We haven’t got one. We have to use the river,’ said Phoebe. She looped her arm in Katie’s and they s
trode off together.

  Edgar followed, and Johnnie - unable to say anything, but with bright eyes and his penis throbbing in his trousers - followed too.

  Midges hung in dark suspension over the water nearest the bank.

  Owing to the forthcoming exposure of their flesh, it was imperative that they avoid the hanging hordes and unveiled in a place where their numbers were absent or not too numerous.

  ‘Just here seems good,’ said Katie. As she began to unbutton her sweat-streaked tennis dress, she looked above her to where the branches of the trees kissed each other and the sky. Golden rays from a setting sun threw alternate spangles of light and darkness across her naked body.

  She heard Johnnie gasp as her breasts responded to the warm summer air. She saw the look in Edgar’s eyes as his gaze fastened on her nipples, then slid over her belly to the dark fuzz of hair that crowned her sex.

  With every intention of provoking their passion, she moved her hips so that the warmth of her inner thighs brushed against each other and her sex.

  Phoebe shouted as her bare flesh hit the cool water. ‘Marvellous!’ she shouted once she was in.

  Katie, imagining herself to be a woodland nymph of ancient legend, or a statue carved from stone, stood absolutely still. The fact that she stood immobile also allowed the two men to survey her high breasts, her narrow waist, and the boyish rise of her pert behind.

  Edgar licked his lips. ‘My God, Katie. But if you stand still much longer, I shall have you here and now.’

  ‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘Not just yet.’

  She ran her hands up over her slender thighs, her ribs and her breasts, before stretching them high above her head. Her breasts rose higher, her stomach flattened and, when she could see that the men were fully aroused and ripe for release, she dived into the water.

  By the time she came to the surface, Edgar and Johnnie were swimming not far from her.

  She shook the wetness from her head and laughed. ‘Race you to the weir,’ shouted Phoebe and, with a powerful over-arm, she was off.

  Bottom up-ended, Katie curved her body and dived beneath the surface.

  The two men were swimming now, their legs and arms thrashing as they sought to catch up with Phoebe.

  Beneath the surface, Katie held her breath firmly in her lungs. She kept her eyes open and studied the men’s bodies as they slid through the water. Their stomachs were flat, their limbs hard and strong. Hanging down like the keel of a yacht or the fin of a fish, the length of their erect members dragged through the water.

  They swam close. They were behind Phoebe, but beside her.

  Kicking her legs, she stretched out her arms on either side of her. The fingers of her right hand touched Edgar’s penis. The fingers of her left hand touched that of Johnnie.

  Perhaps the swimmers themselves thought it was only weed or a passing fish that touched their flesh. They jerked momentarily, but did not stiffen any more than they already had.

  Still holding her breath, she let her fingers close around each appendage. Now they knew it was no fancy, no fish, but her fingers.

  She felt each penis grow in her hand, hard and hot despite the coolness of the water.

  Firmly gripping the ripe pricks, she stayed submerged as long as she could then, with a burst of breath and a torrent of disturbed water, she broke through to the surface and regained her footing.

  They were at the weir. Phoebe had arrived first and looked very pleased about it.

  Edgar and Johnnie were stood on either side of Katie.

  They were looking even more pleased than Phoebe and their members were still hard and ripe in Katie’s hands, out of sight beneath the surface of the water.

  ‘This breast looks cold,’ said Edgar. ‘Let me rub it.’

  ‘So does this one,’ added Johnnie.

  Both men reached out and took hold of one of her breasts. She moaned, parted her lips and smiled at Phoebe who had been content enough with being first at the weir.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Phoebe asked innocently.

  ‘You won the race, so I’m providing the consolation prize,’ replied Katie.

  Phoebe was able to see the exploring hands cupping Katie’s pretty breasts, the fingers playing havoc with her hardening nipples.

  However, she could not see what was happening beneath the surface. She could not see Katie’s hands pulling at what she held in each.

  That was, until she heard the men moan and saw them throw back their heads. Gasping with surprise, she clamped her eyes on the white globules of semen that floated so freely to the surface.

  Katie turned her cheek to Edgar who still stroked her breast. He kissed her. She then did the same to Johnnie whose eyes were bright and whose voice was half-strangled with emotion.

  ‘That was so, so incredibly incredible,’ he said.

  They all laughed. He sounded so silly, so awestruck.

  ‘But I got there first,’ piped up Phoebe. ‘What prize do I get?’

  ‘Me, if you play your cards right!’ shouted Johnnie.

  His offer was interrupted by the fall of footsteps and the yap of a dog. A deep voice followed it. ‘Mind if I have a word?’

  The sounds came from beneath the high trees and among the waving grass of the river bank.

  A man stood there. He was broad shouldered, fair haired and wore a mix of tweed country clothes that seemed chosen for hardiness rather than taste. He had a brown canvas bag over one shoulder, a shotgun over the other. At his feet sat a red and white spaniel. The man had a casual, rough look about him. However, he was not unattractive.

  It was Phoebe who recognized him. ‘Oh! It’s you Mister Benson.’

  She began to wade through the water, more and more of her body becoming exposed as she went.

  Her smile for him was wide. Despite her nakedness, the look he returned was little different to the one he gave his pet spaniel.

  He didn’t even seem particularly interested in her companions. His eyes only covered them brusquely before going back to her. Not that he looked at her licentiously. He didn’t. There was a pride about the way he kept his gaze to her face, and a certain nonchalance to the way he stood.

  ‘I’m sorry to interrupt, Miss Courtly. I only wanted permission to talk to Webster. I need a few boys up at the Towers to beat for a shooting party. I thought his sons and some of his relatives might oblige. It’s a fair-sized shoot and likely to go on for a fortnight or more. I wouldn’t have needed to ask in the past, but we’re short of that sort of staff at the moment.’

  Phoebe held her crumpled tennis dress up in front of her.

  Her smile was a little more nervous than it had been, but got braver once she saw that Benson was apparently unaffected by her nudity.

  ‘A week’s a long time for boys to be away from home, but you go ahead, Mister Benson. I’m sure we can get together enough boys to beat for you.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Courtly. I’ll go to it then.’

  With a word to the dog, Benson turned his back and began to climb back up the bank. He whistled as he went and not once did he look back.

  ‘Who’s he?’ asked Johnnie, his face full of admiration for the brave Phoebe who had stood so naked and so elegant beneath the trees.

  Pink and white bottom towards them, Phoebe looked over her shoulder at him. ‘That,’ she said, ‘is the gamekeeper up at Thompson Towers.’

  ‘He was a bit saucy with that first comment,’ said Johnnie in a defiant and oddly awkward way.

  Katie noticed a dreamy look on her friend’s face and a faraway look in her eyes.

  ‘He’s a loner. He says what he wants and he does what he wants. That’s the way he’s always been.’

  ‘If you stay in that water much longer, Katie, you’ll end up looking like a prune. Here, let me help
you out.’

  Edgar, who had climbed out of the river with Johnnie, offered her his hand.

  She took it and thanked him, but for the rest of the evening she was strangely silent.

  ‘Something on your mind?’ Phoebe asked her as she purposefully sat herself between Edgar and Johnnie.

  Kate said nothing, she only smiled secretively and slowly sipped her cocktail in the soft apricot comfort of a fat armchair.

  Again, Thompson Towers and the masterful Carew had intruded into her day and her thoughts. The gamekeeper was looking for boys to stay there for the week. Beaters always had bed and board for the time they were needed, didn’t they?

  Thoughtfully, she ran her hand down over her breasts that were hardly visible due to the cut of her dress. Further on, her hand ran over the slimness of her hips.

  She had no extra fat, no excess of flesh. She was boyish, and boys were what was needed at Thompson Towers.

  She smiled to herself. Closeness to Carew would definitely be an advantage. Only by being close, could she break down his armour and discover what was beneath.

  With sudden surprise, she looked at her friends. During the time she had been engrossed in her thoughts, Phoebe had unbuttoned the trousers of both young men. She now held a hot penis in each hand. In turn, she was bending and kissing each one.

  As she stared, Katie quickly lost interest in the company she was keeping. Suddenly, she wanted to be away from here.

  ‘I’m going for a bit of fresh air,’ she said brusquely and put her glass on the table.

  Phoebe’s skirt was now up around her waist and her knickers were undone. Besides that, her mouth was full. As the men pushed their trousers down, Phoebe brought up her head, unbuttoned her blouse and bared her breasts. Then she dived back to their groins. The golden hair of her pubes was now barely a framework for her pink and moist flesh. Her sex was wide open and her anus peeped like a mauve daisy from between her inviting buttocks.

  Katie closed the door behind her. She was very quiet about it and leaned on the handle for a moment just to gather her thoughts.

  The gamekeeper had said they needed beaters at Thompson Towers to rouse the game from cover. Beaters usually meant village boys.