The Game - Chapter 1

The Game
by
Michele Nylons

White Blouse Blue Satin Pencil Skirt Sheer Pantyhose Black Belt and Black High Heels.jpg
Chapter One – The Quizmaster

21 September 2007

David was feeding the baby when Marie came through the door; she was glowing from her morning run.

“Look, mommy is home,” he cooed to his daughter who was just shy of her first birthday.

Marie leaned back against the breakfast bar, stretching. Her Lycra tights and shirt clung to her body, emphasising the curves and crevices of her lithe frame. David leered at his wife’s groin and breasts, his eyes devoured her cleft and her nipples encased in the tight shimmery fabric. He was becoming turgid.

He put down the spoon and stood, approaching his wife. She was flicking through the morning mail delivery unaware of the effect that she was having on her husband until he pressed himself against her and began to kiss her. She dropped the mail on the counter and kissed him back, putting her arms around him.

“Morning David, glad to see you’ve dressed and have fed our little princess,” Marie smiled.

“Do I get a reward?” David slid a hand between their bodies and pressed it to her mound.

“Stop it David. I’m hot and sweaty and I need a shower,” she hissed in his ear.

“You know those tights make me horny,” he pushed a finger into her cleft.

He knew that she wore no panties under her Lycra sports tights and he loved how they clung to her mound, defining its shape. He had once joked that it turned her on knowing that men surreptitiously stared at her cunt straining at the sheer fabric. She had blushed and looked guiltily away from him and he realised there was some truth to his accusation.

“Just a quick one,” David panted in her ear and began to rub her sex through her tights.

He found her labia and pushed his finger deeper, searching for her clitoris.

“The baby!” Marie hissed.

“She’s too young to know what’s happening,” David moved Marie’s hand inside his bathrobe and guided it to his erect phallus.

“You’re incorrigible David,” Marie sighed.

She reluctantly gripped his cock and began to stroke it. They were both forty and already some of her girlfriends were complaining that their husbands had lost interest in them sexually so she was happy that David still found her alluring, but he got horny at some of the most inconvenient times and awkward places. At his insistence they had fucked in the car, outdoors in a park, in public toilets, once in an elevator; and once in the cinema. When they visited her mother he loved to fuck Marie in her mother’s bed.

David was fixated with stockings, tights, pantyhose, Lycra leggings, Spandex yoga-pants, knickers and panties, call them what you will, and he loved to play with her nylon-sheathed legs and her satin-clad vagina.

“Ok David. But I’m not taking off my tights; you can come on my legs and my pussy if you like,” she bit his ear, knowing he would love to exercise his fetish.

She wouldn’t orgasm but it would be nice feeling his cock rub on her vulva.

Marie guided David’s penis between her legs and clamped her thighs closed. His cock was trapped between her Lycra-clad thighs and her pubis. David gasped and pulled her close to him, opening his gown so he could feel her breasts press against his chest. She might pretend that she didn’t want sex but her hard nipples indicated otherwise.

“Make it quick David; the baby’s right there,” Marie hissed into his ear.

The heat of her breath in his ear made him all the more excited; he held her tight and began to thrust; pushing his erect penis up into her crotch; he could feel the outline of her vulva through the tight, slippery material of her tights.

“Oh!” Marie gasped and bit his shoulder as his glans pushed on her clitoris.

She admitted to herself that knowing that men stared at her breasts, legs, buttocks and pubic mound while she ran through the streets and the park turned her on a little; some of the men brazenly stared at her crotch as she ran past.

“Nice camel-toe luv!” a young tradesman on a building site had called out to her only that morning.

“Pig!” she had called back over her shoulder but she was flattered really, and a little excited.

She imagined it was the young, handsome, rough-cut, tradesman rutting against her now; not her husband. She didn’t feel guilty; they both fantasised during sex. David was thrusting harder now; she could feel the girth of his phallus rubbing and pushing into her shimmery-clad cunt. Now she wished she had let David fuck her properly so that she could imagine that the bricklayer was pushing her against the rough brickwork of the building; the muscled tradesman forcing himself on the petite housewife out for a run. She could smell a scintilla of her vaginal secretions faintly mingled with the aroma of her workout sweat.

Marie bit David’s neck as he held her tight and orgasmed against her; she felt his hot spend soak into her tights and the musty odour of semen assaulted her nose. Her cunt was tingling but nowhere near orgasm; she would take care of that in the shower as soon as David had finished.

David wiped his cock on Marie’s tights, knowing that she had to wash them regardless. Marie wiped herself with a tea towel conveniently left on the counter top and went back to perusing the mail while David put his cock back inside his underpants and closed his bathrobe.

“Coffee! Right now you randy goat!” she demanded; but she was smiling.

David poured Marie a cup and refilled his own.

“Here’s one for you honey, strange it has no stamp or address; it’s been hand delivered by the look of it,” Marie frowned as she turned the letter over and over in her hand.

David took the letter from his wife and inspected it. It was a regular letter-sized envelope, lavender coloured paper with David’s name scrawled in blue ballpoint ink. There was no return address and the flap was sealed.

“Maybe you have a secret admirer?” Marie teased him, grinning around her coffee cup.

David took a knife from the drawer and slid the blade into the envelope flap and neatly cut it open.

A single sheet of paper, followed by a photograph, fell onto the table as he shook the envelope. David picked up the photo and stared at it in awe, his facial expressions shifted from inquisitiveness, to recognition, to surprise, and then horror. His hand shook as he stared at picture. It was explicit. It was pornographic. It was a pretty young woman lying on a bed fully clothed but with her skirt hiked up and her stocking-clad legs locked around a young man who was vigorously fucking her. The woman’s face was contorted with passion and even though she was wearing heavy makeup if you knew what you were looking for and scrutinised the picture long enough and carefully you would eventually realise that the pretty young harlot was really David dressed as a woman.

David was shocked, speechless. He stood motionless like a statue staring at the photograph. He snapped out of his reverie and slammed the photograph facedown on the table, covering it with his hand. He swivelled his head expecting Marie to ask for an explanation but she had already left her coffee cup on the breakfast bar and was making her way up the stairs.

Ordinarily he would not be able to take his eyes off her buttocks, knowing that she was heading for the shower where she was likely going to finish what David had started; ‘rubbing one out’ as she called it. Usually if he could propagate another erection so quickly after his recent orgasm he would attempt to join her in the shower. But that was the last thing on his mind now.

He plucked his daughter out of her highchair and carried her upstairs to her room and put her down in her cot. As usual after her morning feed she wanted a nap and she snuggled up with her stuffed bunny and closed her eyes.

David went to the doorway of the pokey third bedroom that he used as his home office. David was a writer and author and made a comfortable living writing short stories, reviews, and had published three novels. Each of the novels had been a little more successful than the previous one and although he wasn’t yet a bestseller, with Marie’s income included they lived quite comfortably.

He listened carefully and heard his wife showering down the hall in the master bedroom’s ensuite bathroom; he closed the door to his office and sat at his desk, his hands shaking as he placed the lavender envelope down on the blotter. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the picture again so he shook it out and put it aside, facedown. The single piece of stationery was lavender identical to the envelope; it had been folded once to fit in the envelope and David smoothed out the crease so that it lay flat.

He began to read.

‘Hello David… or should I call you Petra?

Long time no see; in fact it is twenty years today since you last dressed as Petra; Happy Anniversary! You didn’t really just dress up as Petra though did you David? You transformed… no you BECAME Petra didn’t you? All for a dare… well at first of course it was. We all had to accomplish our dares didn’t we David? Too much to lose if we didn’t.

Well David; I’d like to play The Game again, sort of revive it if you get my drift. Of course there won’t be the six of us playing; just you and I. So we have to put something in the kitty to make it worthwhile; something precious, something cherished, not just a few quid like in the old days.

I know… let’s play for EVERYTHING David! Everything that you hold precious: your marriage, your daughter, your job, your friends, your family, your self-respect… like I said; everything!

I bet your mind is racing right now David. Who is this? Where did they get that picture? Why are they doing this? Well none of that is important right now; what is important is that you follow the rules of The Game exactly. Your first dare will be sent to you shortly at the address below where you are to go as soon as you are free from your fatherly duties.

Don’t do anything silly like trying to go to the authorities or contact any of the old players to try to find out who I am; all will be revealed in good time. I’m watching you David… I’m watching you very closely; you and your family. Marie looks really sexy in that tight slinky workout gear doesn’t she David? I saw her leave for her run this morning.

Which reminds me… just let you know how serious I am you had better get to her knicker drawer before she does; you don’t want her finding what I’ve put there.

See you soon… so to speak,

The Quizmaster’

David glanced at the address at the bottom of the letter. It was familiar; very familiar, too familiar in fact. If what the author of the letter had written was true, and all of what was written in the letter appeared to be true so far, he knew that he had to get to the dresser in the master bedroom as soon as possible.

David pulled back the chair and shot out of it, he pulled the door open too fast and caught his knee but he didn’t slow down. He hobbled down the hallway to the master bedroom; the shower had stopped running and he had no idea how long ago Marie had finished her shower.

He yanked open her lingerie drawer open so hard that it nearly came off the runners but he caught it in time and pushed it back a little so that it was wide open. He rummaged through his wife’s intimates, breathing heavily and sweating profusely. He heard the exhaust fan shut down in the ensuite bathroom, which meant that Marie had turned out the light and was on her way out. His fingers found the lavender envelope and he snatched it from the drawer and shoved into the pocket of his bathrobe just as the bathroom door opened.

“Caught you!” Marie looked at him sternly.

David jumped; startled. He reddened and started to shake; a bead of sweat ran down the side of his face.

Marie started laughing.

“Don’t know why you’re looking so alarmed David; it’s not the first time I’ve found you rummaging in my knicker drawer,” she scolded him playfully.

David exhaled powerfully; a manifestation of both guilt and relief.

He picked out a pair of full-cut nylon leopard-skin panties and held them up.

“I was just thinking I’d like you to wear these,” David fabricated a feeble excuse for rummaging in Marie’s unmentionables.

“Not fucking likely David! I’m a lawyer not a hooker! I’ve got a business meeting today to which I’m wearing my navy business suit; I don’t want to be dressed like a nineteen-eighties prostitute underneath it,” she reproached him, snatching the knickers out of his hand.

“Hey… leopard-skin panties are timeless; not just nineteen-eighties,” David played along, trying to making light of the situation.

“Well you wear them then,” she said throwing them at him and laughing.

David caught them instinctively.

“I shouldn’t have said that should I? Knowing you, you are just as likely to do so. Now fuck off and let me get dressed for work,” she made a shooing motion.

David continued the masquerade and laughed, backing out of the bedroom and padding down the hallway.

“Hey stop right there! I’m on to you David!” Marie called out from around the bedroom door.

David froze. Fuck! Was this it? Was his marriage over? If Marie had seen what David suspected was in the envelope, more than likely it was. He turned around slowly; his face a picture of guilt.

“Give me back my knickers please,” Marie held out her hand.

David breathed another sigh of relief and bunched up and threw the flimsy garment, which Marie deftly caught. She closed the bedroom door and David fell through the door of his study trembling with dread. He closed and locked it behind him.

He fell down into the chair and placed the two envelopes side by side. The envelope from Marie’s lingerie drawer was blank; unaddressed. He opened the flap and tipped the contents out on the blotter.

Four more photographs; each as incriminating as the one addressed to him. David dressed as Petra, performing sex acts with the same man.

David sat there and stared at the pictures for a while and then he put all five pictures into the unmarked envelope. He rummaged through the detritus in a brass dish that was embossed with the words ‘Keys N Coins’ until he found a small key. He took the small key, opened a desk drawer and took out a blue-painted steel lock-box and unlocked it. He placed both envelopes inside the box and locked it; putting the key in his pocket. He put the box back and took out the pack of cigarettes hidden away at the back of the same drawer; he opened the window and sat back at the desk and lit a cigarette while he re-read the letter.

His consciousness drifted back to his youth.

September 1985

David, Rachael, Timothy, Sandra, William and Bethany were best friends who boozed, drugged and partied most of their way through their years at university; if tragedy hadn’t struck one of the group, they most likely would never have graduated.

They were a close group who did everything together. They would meet up at each other’s places for boozy weekends laughing, joking and fooling around, playing board games, or ‘twenty questions’, ‘would you rather’, ‘truth or dare’ and other such contrivances into the early houris of the morning. Then one of the group, they all took credit for it of course, came up with an improved perpetuation of the game truth or dare.

‘The Game’ as they called it was never given any other name than just that, ‘The Game’. It began as a series of student pranks that soon developed into a game of dare. Each week on a rotational basis one of the students was designated the competitor and the remaining five students each thought up a dare and put it in a sealed envelope. The competitor had to select an envelope blindly from a glass bowl and then carry out the dare inside.

The six students would each put twenty pounds, a lot of money in those days, into a kitty and the kitty grew as each competitor completed their dare. Failure to complete the dare resulted in the creator of the dare taking the kitty. As time wore on the dares became more brazen and difficult and usually downright humiliating for the contestant. It became a matter of pride to think up the most outrageous dare. The Game parties were drug and alcohol fuelled events and whoever's turn it was to be the contestant knew that plenty of ‘Dutch Courage’ would likely be required in order to complete their dare.

The dare had to commence at 7pm and be completed at midnight and at least one other member of the group, designated the ‘Quizmaster’, had to witness the dare through to completion. Some of the dares were quite elaborate and some just required patience and persistence. One example was that one of the male students had to spend the night covered in filth and dressed in rags begging on the high street pretending to be homeless. Another dare was to break into the local church and climb the belltower and ring the church bells precisely at midnight; that contestant was caught and spent the weekend in goal.

Another radical dare was initiated by one of the group who had a policeman friend and was able to borrow his warrant card. The contestant had to randomly accost people on the street and subject them to a 'stop and search'. This went well until one accosted person realised that the picture on the warrant card didn't match the contestant and gave him a black eye; but it was all part of The Game.

One of the girls had to dress as a strumpet and spend the night amongst the streetwalkers under the railway bridge. She was of course expected to decline all the punters who approached her but she had to be openly solicitous.

Sometimes all five of the group watched the competitor see the dare through to completion. But sometimes the dare became boring to watch after a while so the Quizmaster had to remain to watch the competitor complete the dare while the other four went to the pub or back to one of their flats to carry on partying.

David can remember that night twenty years ago like it was only yesterday.

He put his hand in the jar a little apprehensively and selected one of the five envelopes. The others watched expectantly as he tore it open. He read the printed script and smiled; an easy dare he thought. He read it aloud for the group to hear.

“You are to be fully feminised and dressed in a sexy outfit and spend the night at the X-rated movie theatre,” he read.

"Piss easy this one! Just throw on some drag and sit there all night watching porn," David gloated.

"Oh no David! The dare says you are to be fully feminised," Sandra, whose dare it obliviously was, corrected him.

Rachael and Bethany joined in.

“Yes! We’re going to turn you into a sexy little vixen so that those pervs in the theatre won’t be able to keep their hands off you,” Bethany cackled, drawing on a spliff.

“And I’ve got just the gear too; you’re about my size. Let’s go and girly this bloke up!” Bethany squealed.

All six of them piled into William’s beat up VW Combi and drove around to Bethany's cosy little flat.

David thought that being feminised would be quite the ordeal but it turned out to be quite the contrary. The girls insisted on shaving his face and, stripping him down to his underpants and shaving any visible body hair of which he had very little anyway.

“Fuck David you’ve got less hair on your legs than I have; and I shave twice a week!” Sandra whined drunkenly.

Bethany did his makeup: foundation, finishing powder, blush, eyeshadow, heavy eyeliner and mascara. They insisted on putting bright red lipstick on him. She brushed out his long hair, parted it in the middle and cut him a fringe. They even painted his nails bright red to match the lipstick.

“Really Bethany?” David whined.

“You forfeiting David?” Bethany grinned, knowing full well that the dare was pretty easy really.

David just shrugged.

She bought out a pile of her clothes and dropped them on the couch.

“Wait a minute. I don’t mind dressing up as a girl but I’m not dropping my briefs in front of all of you so you can take the piss,” David laughed, chugging on a can of lager.

“Don’t fuck your lipstick!” Bethany whined.

“Ok. Come with me!” she tucked the clothing under her arm and led David to her bedroom.

“Hey, hey, hey! No funny business in there!” William guffawed.

“As if? Dickhead.” Bethany slammed the door behind her and David.

It was an unwritten rule that the group remain platonic. They knew that if sexual relationships developed between any of the members it would only cause trouble and break up the group.

“Ok. I’ll turn my back while you put on my knickers, and garter belt,” Bethany sipped a glass of cheap whine.

“Is this really necessary Rache? I mean I’m happy to wear a skirt and high heels but the underwear? Really?” David held up the pair of lace-trimmed black satin panties that he was supposed to wear.

“Fully- feminised David. You know the rules,” Bethany admonished him.

David shrugged and dropped his underpants.

“Put the sussy belt on first David. Then when you need to go for a piss you can drop your knickers without having to unclasp your stockings,” Bethany called over her shoulder trying not very successfully to suppress a laugh.

David had been with enough girls to know how their underwear was worn. He held out the black lacy garterbelt; shaking it so that the six suspenders untangled and hung straight. He made an estimation of his waist size and adjusted the clips at the waist accordingly. Surprisingly his waist was smaller that Bethany’s and when he stepped into it, it fitted him quite well. The silver clasps on the garters tickled his thigh; it was quite unnerving but at the same time quite sensual.

Pulling the knickers up his freshly shaved legs evoked a delightfully pleasing sensation that intensified when he smoothed the satin material around his buttocks, penis and scrotum.

This was not really unexpected. David had never worn knickers or any ladies underwear before; but he loved the feel of the silky garments on the ladies he bedded. He liked to rub his penis on their panty-clad pubis and buttocks and even encouraged them to leave on their tights during sex. Most didn’t mind but some thought him a little weird.

David pushed his penis under his crotch to try to diminish the bulge at the front of his panties. He pulled the suspenders through the leg holes of his knickers; three either side, and adjusted the garterbelt and waistband of his panties so that they were comfortable.

“Ok Rache; over to you,” David reached for his can of lager but Bethany moved it out of his way.

“You can drink after I’ve finished with you,” she reproached him.

She had him sit on the bed and David felt the most awkward and uneasy that he had ever felt in the company of one of his friends. Bethany rolled up the first stocking and had David point his toe and slid the diaphanous garment up his leg. The voluptuous feeling of the silken garment sliding up his flesh was alarmingly erotic. When Bethany clipped the clasps to the dark welt and then began to smooth out the wrinkles and straighten the seam, David nearly fainted as feelings of lasciviousness coursed through his body.

David was visibly shaking when she slid on the second stocking.

Bethany became aware of the effect that her slipping on the hosiery and straightening and adjusting the stockings were having on David.

She blushed.

“Err David. Would you mind readjusting yourself for me,” Bethany was kneeling on the floor, smoothing the dark reinforced footlets of the stockings around David’s toes.

She reddened further and turned her face away while David adjusted his semi-tumescent penis inside the gusset of his knickers.

“I’m sorry Rache; I don’t know what’s come over me,” David blushed too as he apologised.

“Never mind. Let’s get you into a skirt shall we? That should hide any unwanted bulges,” Bethany tried to make light of the situation.

She finished dressing David helping him put on a black satin and lace brasserie that matched his panties; she stuffed the cups with old tights to fill them. Then she assisted him to step into in a black leatherette miniskirt and don a see-through, leopard-skin patterned, blouse.

Getting David into a pair of her black high heels was nowhere near as difficult as they both thought it would be; they slipped straight on, a perfect fit.

“Ok girly; let’s get you accessorised. This is junk costume jewellery but please try not to lose any of it,” Bethany instructed him.

She put a faux gold necklace around his neck and matching bangles on both wrists. David had both of his ears pierced so it was easy to fit the gold, drop earrings to his lobes. She put rings on the ring finger of each of his hands. She spayed him liberally with perfume from her dresser.

David stood in front of Bethany’s full-length mirror and could not believe what he saw.

“Fuck David! You’re fucking stunning!” Bethany finished her wine in one gulp.

David had so many emotions running through him that he didn’t know where the high from the booze and marijuana stopped and the excitement and delectation of wearing the makeup, clothes and heels began. The clothing felt so sensuous and delightful against his skin, the smell and taste of the makeup and perfume were opulent and luxurious, but the way he looked! He looked gorgeous, attractive and sexy. But he loved it! He felt it; it was as if David had disappeared and this alluring slattern had taken his place.

Bethany had to help David back into the living room as he teetered on his high heels.

“Jesus Christ! Fuck me! Bloody hell! Who the fuck is that!” a litany of awe and disbelief came from Timothy, Sandra, and Rachael.

“Jesus David if I didn’t know it was you in there, I’d as likely come onto you,” Timothy taunted him.

William remained quiet and subdued; obviously overwhelmed.

“I’ve got a friend who does a drag act at the Palladium. I asked him how they make themselves look so feminine and he says simple: ‘pretty boy – pretty girl’. Guess you prove the rule David,” Sandra snickered.

“We need to give him a femme name; he can’t go out like that and just be David. And it can’t be something trite like Davina, Davetta or some such shite!” Sandra shouted drunkenly.

“I christen thee Petra the whore! If ever there was a Petra; you are her, you whore!” Timothy drawled drunkenly and spanked David on the buttocks; they all fell about laughing.

They loaded up on booze and crisps and crammed themselves into William’s VW and drove down to the high street.

The X-rated cinema, appropriately named The Head Office, was a dingy decrepit building that catered for an equally sordid clientele. It ran non-stop porno movies on the big screen, usually Scandinavian but more recently American films; not that the patrons cared whether or not there were subtitles. The theatre was pitch dark and stank of cigarette smoke, booze, disinfectant and the musty smell associated with stale semen. The patrons were almost exclusively men except for the odd prostitute who used the place for a quickie if the punter couldn’t afford a room.

Rachael, Timothy, Sandra, William and Bethany half fell out of the Combi having shared a spliff and drank more wine on the way to the theatre.

“Come on Petra; don’t be shy,” Timothy snickered helping David, now Petra, out of the van.

Petra had taken off her heels for the journey and she leaned against the van to put them back on, helped by Bethany who had a vested interest in seeing that her expensive shoes not get scuffed.

The half-stoned part-time university student who sat in the ticket booth hardly took any notice of them as he took their five bob and pressed the button to open the door to the screening room. He didn’t care that they were obviously already drunk and had copious amounts of alcohol in their possession. It was a porno theatre for god’s sake; all he needed to do was take money, issue tickets and mop the floor at the end of his shift.

The six students wrestled their way through the blackout curtains and stood at the back of the theatre and were greeted by a huge screen on which a lady dressed only in stockings and high heels was being rigorously taken doggy-style by a well endowed fellow. The actors were not particularly attractive nor did they seem to be particularly resolute in their lovemaking; in fact they looked a little bored. Not that you would know that by the obviously dubbed soundtrack of moans, groans, and slurping sounds booming from the speakers and the trite English subtitles indicating that the lady was encouraging the gentleman to vigorously roger her.

There were a dozen or so punters sitting in the theatre; only the backs of their heads could be seen from where the Gamers were standing. A few were sitting together as couples but most sat on their own; some were smoking but all were transfixed by the action on the screen. They were all men.

One of the men who appeared to be sitting by himself two rows from the back suddenly groaned and then a head popped up from out of his lap.

“Perfect!” Timothy hooted.

As had been agreed during the ride over, Rachael, Timothy, Sandra, William and Bethany took seats in the back row where they could watch Petra who had to sit in the middle row in the middle of the theatre. Timothy and William bookended the girls to discourage any of the creeps hitting on them.

Unfortunately for Petra that was not the case. Almost immediately a man sat down beside her and put his hand on her knee.

“Fuck off mate!” Petra growled and the punter quickly departed.

The five students laughed and jeered at Petra; this was a hoot! They are all high and continued to drink as they sat in the back row watching Petra fend off a succession of men wanting sex but the repetition soon became boring as did the string of inane pornographic movies being screened. Around ten o’clock Rachael, Sandra and Bethany were starting to nod off so the decision was made to leave the Quizmaster to see out the end of the dare while the rest of them went back to Rachael’s place to sleep a little and do more dope.

William’s went for a piss and came back and assumed his duties as the Quizmaster while the other four headed off. He sniggered a couple of times as men repeatedly approached Petra and were sent packing, but finally even he got bored and he lit a joint and made his way down to where Petra was sitting.

"Here smoke this; at least it will help kill the boredom," William passed Petra the joint and sat down beside her.

“Thank fuck Will. It was sort of funny shooing away those geezers but it got very tedious very quickly. Some of them kept on coming onto me even when I made it obvious that I was a bloke,” Petra sucked back smoke and handed the spliff back to William.

“Well you are kinda hot Petra,” William joked and punched Petra whimsically in the shoulder.

Petra would never admit that she was secretly enjoying being dressed as a woman. She repeatedly stroked her legs, straightened her skirt, played with her hair, smoothed her hands down her breasts and even dangled a high heel from her toe. She practiced the womanly mannerisms that David had witnessed in his girlfriends.

Petra was also amused and a little delighted that the punters in the theatre found her attractive. She had no intention of letting any of them do anything to her but one or two had actually sat next to her and got as far as placing their hands on her knee which she secretly admitted felt quite nice through the sheer stocking; but they were soon rebuffed.

Now that Petra had a man sitting beside her the punters stopped trying to hit on her. The two friends sat watching porn and smoking dope; they were high and very drowsy and happy to sit in the dark in each other’s company.

Neither of them was sure when it happened.

They were lethargically staring at the big screen watching a pretty young white woman dressed in a basque, stockings and high heels being savagely fucked by a black man with a huge penis. You could tell that she was totally enjoying the sex and that she wasn't acting by her facial expressions, her sensuous movements, and the groans of pleasure escaping her lips. She had her legs wrapped around the black stud's waist, encouraging him to fuck her and her red lipsticked lips sought his mouth. The mutual attraction that the screen lovers had for one and other was so much more engaging and stimulating than the previous movies where lifeless actors vapidly rutted against each other.

William began to become acutely aware of Petra's presence, the smell of her perfume, the sheen of her sheer stockings in the dull glow of the screen, her pretty face. He absentmindedly placed his hand on her knee and squeezed. Petra gasped and William instinctively snatched his hand away. Petra sighed. Then, keeping her eyes locked on the screen, she sought his hand and rested it back on her knee.

They both stared at the screen their minds racing; they were crossing so many boundaries and they both knew it. Speaking about it would break the truce that they seemed to have unconsciously compacted between themselves. Neither spoke; they sat in silence watching the lovers on the big screen; both acutely aware of William’s hand resting lightly on Petra’s knee.

Petra bit her lip as William’s hand slid slowly up her leg until it rested on her thigh, just under the hem of her skirt. She could feel her heart pounding and her breathing was shallow; but more disturbingly she was becoming shamefully tumescent. She tore her eyes from the screen and glanced down before returning her eyes back to the projected images of sexual gratification.

The brief glance allowed her to see William’s hand on her leg and his fingers under her skirt. She’d also seen the bulge in his jeans.

They sat like that for what seemed like an eternity; silent, motionless, staring, hardly breathing. They both knew that if they did nothing further there was no harm done. William had played a prank and David had played along. They could joke about it with the others. It was nothing to worry about. They would soon leave the theatre as friends and laugh about how they had pretended to be attracted each other.

Then Petra rested her head on William’s shoulder.

William put his left arm around Petra and pulled her close to him; his fingers slid further under her skirt and found the welt on her stocking. He fiddled with the garter clasps and smoothed his fingers along the gauzy nylon stocking.

Petra turned and faced William in the dark, their faces illuminated by the flickering screen.

"We tell no one. Ever! And after tonight we never speak of it," she looked searchingly into his eyes.

William nodded and leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.

Petra opened her lips and explored William’s mouth with her tongue. William groaned and reciprocated; his hand slid further up her thigh finding the creamy soft flesh above her stocking top. It continued into her lap and found her hard and hot in her panties. He squeezed Petra’s panty-clad cock and she moaned; her hand sought out his jeans and he lifted himself up in his seat to help her find and unzip his fly.

Petra’s hand snaked into William’s jeans and released his long hard cock. It felt so smooth and firm; she raked her fingers along it gently as she kissed him passionately. William lightly stroked Petra's cock through her flimsy panties, the front of which were now wet with pre-ejaculate.

Petra squeezed William’s cock and began to stroke it. He fell back in the chair moaning, lifting his groin as she worked her hand up and down his hard member.

When Petra dropped to her knees on the filthy floor William was astonished; his first instinct was to lift her back into her seat but when her hot wet mouth closed on his phallus he could only gasp and stroke her hair, encouraging Petra to suckle him.

Petra was in a trancelike state; she instinctively wanted to pleasure her man. She worked her lips up and down William’s sleek shaft while her tongue lapped at his glans.

Despite the booze and dope William couldn’t hold back his orgasm and he climaxed in Petra's mouth. He tried to lift her face out of his groin but she refused and sucked and slavered at his manhood, swallowing the slaty issue as it ejaculated in her mouth. Petra suckled William’s cock until she had drained every drop of semen then she lifted herself back into her seat and sat ramrod still, looking straight ahead.

They both remained silent, not touching, watching the screen but not seeing what was being projected; they were both confused and stupefied with what had just occurred.

William tucked himself away and zipped himself up. He knew what was wrong. Post coital regret. A lot of girls had it after they’d had sex while drunk or stoned and then realised what they had done. In this case the magnitude of the regret was likely immeasurable given who Petra was and what she had done.

Petra turned to confront William.

“Are you ok?” she asked stony-faced.

William just nodded soberly.

“Wanna come to my place?” she asked matter-of-factly.

William was dumbfounded but he nodded again.

Petra leaned into him and he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her tenderly.

“Let’s get out of this dump Petra,” William smiled and helped her out of her seat.

William put his arm around Petra and held her close and as they walked home Petra put her head on William’s shoulder.

21 September 2007

“David! David! Are you fucking smoking in there!” Marie hammered on the door.

David came out of his reverie and crushed out his cigarette on the windowsill and went to the door, waving his hands in a vain attempt to hide the smoke.

He poked his head out the door to see that Marie was dressed for work, trim and sexy as ever in her navy blue business suit.

“Sorry Marie,” David cowed his head.

“You promised to quit when Rachael was born!” Marie was livid.

They had named their daughter after David’s friend Rachael; well at least David had. Marie had no idea who his university friends were or what they had gotten up to.

“The nanny will be here in an hour and I’ll be home late; I have that conference today and then a working dinner afterwards,” Marie fussed at her jacket.

“Ok love; I’ll see you tonight,” David smiled and puckered for a farewell kiss.

“Fat chance dragon’s breath!” Marie berated him then clamoured purposely down the stairs, all swinging handbag and clacking high heels.

To be continued



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