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Subject: "Lady Jane" (Part 3) by Rod Stiffener (mmf,bond,exhib)
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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Archive name: lady_3.txt (mmf,bond,exhib)
Authors name: rodsti@hotmail.com (Rod Stiffener)
Story title : Lady Jand II - Jane In Town
-------------------------------------------------------
(c) Copyright 1998
This work is copyrighted to the author, with all rights
reserved. -- This work may be archived and displayed on
non-commercial web sites without permission, but please
do not remove the author name or address. Thank you
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LADY JANE III - JANE IN TOWN
By Rod Stiffener
Part III of the Lady Jane Trilogy
(Fantasies always come in Trilogies).
A few weeks had passed since Mike and I had our
threesome with Lady Jane, during which she
submitted to being tied to the bed by her wrists and
ankles. She appeared to love every minute of it. Of
course she would never have said so out loud, but I
think by now I can tell when a woman is aroused.
And on that occasion she was extremely aroused.
We bumped into each other again in town. I had gone
into a large and upmarket department store, one that
had pretensions of being a local equivalent of Harrods
in London. How like Jane to shop here!
I saw her before she saw me. She wore a proper-
looking blue skirt and white blouse, and I could see
the outline of a sturdy bra cradling her large tits. It
looked like she'd just had her hair done. Probably
tinted too, as there was no sign of any grey, yet I knew
for a fact that she had a few grey hairs. On her pussy,
at least.
I said "Hello!" and she barely deigned to recognise me,
giving me a very patrician and reserved response. I
felt I deserved better considering I was a person she
had permitted to fuck her in the arse recently.
"Doing some shopping?" I asked superfluously, as she
was already holding some designer-logo'd plastic bags.
"Oh, a bit of this and that." she said, looking past me
to smile at some other middle-aged ladies. Probably
members of her tennis club, or something like that.
She was starting to irritate me again with her stuck-
up attitude. But dislike and physical attraction are
not necessarily mutually exclusive. Not when a
person as hateful as her has tits as marvellous as hers.
I began to wonder how I could get her into another
compromising position, like we did with her before.
Teach her a lesson, one that she would no doubt enjoy
too much anyway. But it wouldn't be easy. I could
hardly go and tie her to the nearest lamp-post. I am
not an exhibitionist, as my fear of getting caught
outweighs any thrill I might get from sex in public.
To me, the thrill is doing it *without* getting
caught...
"Let's go for a coffee." I said.
"Not today, I've a lot to do ..."
But I cut her off.
"I'm not asking, I'm telling."
She detected a harder edge to my voice, and didn't
protest when I took her arm and led her to the store's
coffee shop.
It was cavernous and dimly lit even in daytime. The
ceiling was painted black and the walls dark green,
with copper sculptures of fantastic-looking insects
decorating the walls. Object-d'art scattered about. A
place for arty-farty people to have private tete-a-tete
in intimate little nooks and booths. Perfect!
We ordered coffee and a slice each of their justifiably-
famous ginger crunch, then settled into a corner table
in the gloom near the back. Our chairs were angled
on pretty much the same side of the table, so we could
both face out into the room.
I struck up some conversation, while trying to think
what I could do with her next.
"Figured out yet who it was that helped me ravish you
the other day?"
"Haven't the foggiest, but whoever it was, they weren't
all that well hung." She said with a sniff.
Three other middle-aged ladies took a table about
twenty feet away, and waved to Jane as they sat.
"Someone you know?"
"We do the odd bit of charity work together."
Hmmm ... an idea was forming in my brain.
"Jane, tell me honestly. Do you enjoy straight sex, or
do you always have to be tied up all the time?"
"I don't discuss my sex life, though I am more than
happy to discuss the sex lives of other people."
"But I've never seen a woman get so hot as you are
when under some kind of restraint!"
"That's my business. You are only required to fuck
me, you don't have to understand me."
"Fair enough. Are you ready for another game, then?"
"When?"
"Right now. Right here."
"Absolutely not. Those people know me."
My hand reached for her leg under the long tablecloth,
and rested on her knee beside the hem of her skirt.
No one else could see. We were in plain view of the
three biddies, plus two other couples and a man in a
business suit by himself to our left. But the
generously sized tablecloth kept us hidden from mid-
riff downwards.
My hand went slowly under the hem of the skirt and
began to slide it upwards, baring her thighs. She
grabbed my hand and tried to pull it away.
"We'll make a scene!" she hissed under her breath.
"Only you can make a scene, by trying to stop me." I
replied. "If you just keep cool, no one will even notice
us."
My hand swept more of her skirt up until it was
bunched over her crotch.
She had been check-mated, and was starting to realise
it. If she protested or struggled, the others would see
and would report it to the rest of her social circle.
That would be intolerable, so she had to keep still and
let my invading fingers go where they will.
And this was probably new to her. This was restraint,
but not by any physical means. She was being
restrained by her own social mores. She was my
prisoner as surely as if I had tied her up, but she was
having to do her own restraining this time. A self-
inflicted kind of bondage, with invisible ties.
Meanwhile, my fingertips had made the discovery
that, as usual, she was wearing french knickers. Oh
good! Plenty of room in which to move. Going up one
leg of the knickers, I was soon entangled in her
luxuriant pubic hair which I proceeded to tease and
twirl.
Needing something to do rather than sit there like a
tailor's dummy, she got out a cigarette and lit up,
slowly and deliberately. Personally I hate cigarette
smoke but this time I was willing to make an
exception, especially as she would purse her lips on
taking each drag, like she was sucking on a little cock.
Pure '40's film noir, and she was concentrating very
hard on staying cool and poker-faced as my hand
burrowed further into her snatch beneath the
tablecloth.
She started to make small talk, to keep up the
appearance that this was, after all, two people
socialising. It would look odd if our conversation
stopped altogether, so she commented on the people
opposite, how so and so really didn't look good with
her hair like that, how such and such was mutton-
dressed-as-lamb by wearing that outfit, and the other
one was a bitch anyway and no one else could stand
her but for the fact her husband was the General
Manager of thing-ummy-jig. But she was rambling
and unfocused as my fingertip parted the forest of
cunt hairs about her entrance and felt the first hot
flow of her internal fluids issuing forth.
I got a finger well up inside her vagina, but the angle
was no good for getting two in. Never mind, this was
having the desired effect on her. I was using the
finger that penetrated her as a pivot to swivel my
hand in such a way that her clit was being brushed
this way and that. Her insides wer very swampy by
now, and she opened her legs wider to get more of me
in.
Then she froze.
"He can see us!"
"Who?" I said, careful not to look away from her
suddenly.
"The man in the suit."
Sure enough, the fellow in the business suit was
regarding us over his cup of coffee, looking intently at
the tablecloth that was supposed to be concealing our
activity. The old biddies definitely couldn't see, but
the tablecloth was off-centre. On his side it didn't fall
far enough to provide adequate cover, and when she
parted her legs he could now glimpse her pale thighs
and my hand churning away at her crotch.
I didn't break stride, and simply carried on playing
with her pussy as if nothing could be more natural. I
looked at him and he winked at me over his coffee
cup.
Jane cooly took another drag on her cigarette and
looked him straight back in the eye. Her only
adjustment to our game was to part her legs even
wider. I frigged her a bit more vigorously, with no
fear of hurting her because she was really wet and
sloppy now. Just had to keep my movements below
the table, but anyway the biddies were getting up to
leave now.
One of them came across to talk to Jane, so I had to
bring movement to a standstill. Jane almost
whimpered at the sudden loss of sensation, but had to
collect herself because she was being spoken to.
"Hallo Jane! Will we be seeing you at the committee
meeting this Thursday?
Jane's mind was probably racing. Meeting? What
meeting? Who gives a fuck about any meeting?
But she said politely "Sure will, Marjorie. See you
there!"
Thankfully, the lady turned to join her companions
who were headed to the exit.
I picked up where I left off, getting my fingers deep
into her and really hitting her on the button. She
looked back into the eyes of the gentleman opposite,
and grabbed the edge of the table for support as she
started coming and coming and coming. The noise
was kept to a minimum, just long pauses between
each sharply drawn breath, but her cigarette had
fallen and was burning a hole in the tablecloth. Her
cunt muscles were wringing at my finger, and her eyes
bored into those of the man opposite.
She slumped back, and I withdrew my hand. The
businessman raised his cup in a silent salute, then
drained it in a single gulp, as if drinking a toast.
Well, that was Chapter One concluded as far as Jane
was concerned. But I was now as horny as hell, and
the other chap would have to be a Trappist Monk to
be unaffected by what he had just witnessed. I got up.
"Get your things. We're going out to the carpark."
Still in a mild state of sexual intoxication, she got up
willingly. I nodded for the other chap to follow us.
We were already on the ground floor, so the parking
basement was only a single flight of stairs below us.
Its bunkerlike concrete was a stark contrast to the
plush surroundings of the department store.
I led Jane to the very end where a van was parked.
This would do nicely! We would be out of sight, but
not out of sound. The chances of discovery were real,
but tolerable.
We stood between the van and the end wall. I grabbed
one of her big tits and manhandled it, until the
besuited gentleman had joined us. He was forties,
paunchy and balding, but presumably his prick still
thought he was only sixteen or he wouldn't have
followed us.
I kept the small talk to a minimum.
"Give me your tie."
He unknotted it and handed it to me.
I turned Jane around to face the van, and used the tie
to lash her hands to the wing mirror of the driver's
door. This left her bending forward slightly with her
bum sticking out. It was an expensive tie, but the guy
did not protest at it being employed in this fashion.
I opened my wallet and handed him a condom.
"You first," I told him. "If anyone comes, we run for
it and just leave her there."
He needed no further encouragement. I squatted out
of view and watched as he hiked her skirt up above
her hips and slid her french knickers down until they
puddled on the dirty cement at her feet. Her bum was
now bare, big globes with dimpled cellulite along the
bottom curve of each buttock, long legs running down
and feet spaced apart. He unzipped and took out a
fat, stubby erect penis, pulling enough of it through
his fly to penetrate her with it.
He rolled on the condom and got behind her, pressing
his besuited crutch against her butt, fiddling around
with his hand to get his prick aimed in the right place.
Then he was away, humping and bumping, grabbing
her hips to stop her bouncing away from him. I
wished I had a camera to permanently record the sight
of her, lashed to the van, skirt up and knickers down,
while this total stranger banged her rear frantically
like a dog mounting a bitch on heat.
It was a truly disgusting, degrading spectacle, one
which I now knew excited her more than anything
else. I was starting to think this woman had a
problem. But hey! If she did, then I was a part of the
problem. What's the harm as long as it is consensual?
The stranger spoofed with vigour. We could tell that
these were the vinegar strokes by his desperate
motions and the expression on his face. It probably
wasn't all that great for Jane, because he had been very
quick, and anyway she had already come. Still, even
after coming, it seems she just likes to be used. And
used. And used. An archetypal slut, such a contrast
to her patrician demenour on all other occasions.
He had finished, and wasted no time divesting himself
of the condom and throwing it to the ground. Splat!
A quick "Have a nice day," and he was outta there, his
business with us was done. He didn't even stop to ask
for his necktie back.
My turn. And I was more interested in her top half,
partly because in the coffee shop this was not
possible, but mainly because she has huge saggy tits
and I just love boobs like that.
I got her to squat and turn around, so that she was
leaning back against the side of the van with her arms
stretched up above her head to the mirror bracket.
Car doors slammed not far from us, and tyres
screeched as someone left their park. I crouched and
unbuttoned her blouse enough to get my hands in,
slip her bra straps down and lift her jugs up out over
the top of her bra cups. I fondled, licked and sucked,
holding each spongy pillow of flesh in a two-handed
grip while I nibbled on their stiff little teats.
But we couldn't do this all day. I stood and unzipped,
getting my cock out into the breeze and lining it up
with her mouth. She gulped it in and started bobbing
her head up and down on it, giving tight little sucks
on each outstroke. This was no teasing. This was
designed to make me come in double-quick time.
And it was working, too. I was in seventh heaven.
Jane was a strikingly handsome woman with good
bone structure, and one could easily imagine what she
would have looked like before aging and smoking
began to take its toll. She still looked good to me,
with her lips wrapped around my cock and
aristocratic features composed into an expression of
pure slutty horniness. She knew how to suck a cock,
too!
The sight of my cock in her mouth, her naked tits
spilling out of her blouse, and the liquid-velvet
sensations of her sucking were enough to get me close
to spilling my seed in about four minutes flat. My
knees began to tremble and I felt the beginning of that
cosmic rush, so hard to express in words, the moment
when a fellow doesn't care what orifice he is in, he just
wants to get deeper up it.
But coming in her mouth would have been too easy. I
quickly pulled out and got lower, shoving my dick
into her cleavage and pulling her breasts around it as
I started to shoot my load. I humped her tits,
lubricated by my own sperm, until my cock started to
shrink and go rubbery.
Pulling back, I could see that I had made a mess. The
first spurt had hit her on the chin and dribbled down
her throat. Droplets of cum clung to the gold chain
around her neck. The rest had got squished all over
her cleavage and upper slopes of her tits, making
translucent damp patches on her white blouse in
several places.
I stood her up without untying her, and put her
clothes back into place myself. She would have to
ditch the french knickers, they were all filthy from
being on the cement all this time. We could hear
voices of shoppers getting into a car not far away, but
so far no one had come to claim the van she was tied
up to. Just as well.
By buttoning up her blouse for her, I was able to
ensure that sperm was still visible at her throat and
got even more rubbed in to her blouse. It would be
obvious to anyone who looked at her that she had
been in an "accident". I didn't know where she had
parked her little MG sports coupe, but I hoped for her
sake that it was not far.
I stood close and put my arms around her to untie her
bonds, taking the opportunity to kiss her full on the
lips and slip in some tongue. God, I hate the taste of
smokers! I wished I had spoofed in her mouth after
all, since the taste of my own sperm would have been
much preferable.
Whoever eventually came to collect their van was
going to find beside it a very rumpled necktie, a filthy
pair of french knickers, and a soiled condom. I
wondered what they would make of it?
We walked in silence back to the stairs and emerged
into the department store lobby. She seemed
oblivious to the traces of peckersnot at her throat and
on her blouse. Being pantiless was not such a
problem for her, as her skirt was fairly conservative in
its length.
"Bye, Jane," I said in farewell. "It has been wonderful
meeting you again."
"Not bad" she said as she turned to go. "Not bad at
all...."
________________________________________________
Kristen's collection - Directory 8 - Text 8355
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