Felicity Kendal burst through the front door with her two excited daughters right behind her. They had come home from church to find their father’s car parked in the driveway.

“Daddy!” the girls called out in chorus.

Michael Kendal rushed out of the kitchen where he had been waiting and hugged all three of them and kissed his wife.

“Hey; you girls wanna go and get yourselves some ice-cream or go see a movie?” Michael rummaged in his pocket and extracted a fifty dollar note.

“Sure dad but can we get changed first?” his youngest daughter of thirteen-years asked.

Michael snatched back the fifty.

“Nope, you go now in your church clothes or you can get changed and I’ll find you some chores to keep you busy,” he smirked at the girls.

The eldest, seventeen years old, snatched the money back.

“We’re outta here daddy,” she lifted up on her tippytoes and kissed his cheek.

She grabbed her sister by the wrist and pulled her outside.

“Be back by dinner or you’re grounded. And no boys!” Michael called through the door.

The girls heard the deadlock clunk when the door slammed shut.

“Did you see the boner he had!” the youngest girl giggled.

“Yuk! Don’t talk about dad’s boner. I can’t even think about mom and dad doing it,” the eldest laughed as they walked down the pathway.

“Every time he comes back from a trip he grabs mom and takes her up to their bedroom,” the youngest said.

The girls were both virgins but they knew all about sex. A lot of the kids at their school came from broken homes and even those kids whose parents were still together complained that their parents fought all the time. The girls were happy that their mom and dad loved each other and that they still had a healthy sex life which meant a happy marriage.

Michael Kendal grab-assed Felicity all the way up the stairs, running his hands up her nylon-sheathed legs and squeezing her buttocks.

“You want me to put on the special lingerie Mike?” Felicity was getting wet in anticipation.

“No time Fliss. I’m locked and loaded and on a hair trigger, we’ll do that later,” Michael guided her though the bedroom door impatiently.

He pushed his wife on the bed and leapt on top of her.

“You sure you don’t…” Felicity was silenced by his hand firmly grasping her chin.

“Shh. Lie still. You know what I like,” Michael was struggling to free his cock and Felicity suddenly got wetter.

She lay still beneath him with her hands by her side and her legs parted while Michael pushed her frock out of the way to get to her. He squeezed her thighs and then his hand found her sex. He tore open her pantyhose and pulled aside her panties and pushed his big hard cock deep inside her.

Felicity felt her husband’s big cock fill her vagina and he grunted as he rutted against her, his pubis rubbed on her clitoris and Felicity immediately orgasmed.

She knew to lie still and look up into Michael's eyes but she couldn’t hide the pleasure from him.

Michael could see the lust and satisfaction in his wife’s eyes. She was coming! She was having an orgasm whilst she lay still underneath him, not moving.

“Yes!” he hissed and ejaculated.

He was sure that he had seen the same look in Mary Whitehouse’s face when he fucked her the third time. He’d taken his time with her and massaged her clitoris with his fingertip while he fucked her and finally pressed his pubis on her vulva when he came and he was sure he had seen that exact same look. Mary might not have wanted to but she had orgasmed.

“Did you like that Felicity?” Michael stroked his wife’s face, a signal to her that she could move and talk.

She lifted her legs and wrapped them around him and leaned up and kissed him.

“It was wonderful but these pantyhose are ruined and I’d better get out of this church frock,” she smiled up at him.

“Yes do that, and put on your special lingerie and high heels for me. Let’s do it properly this time, the makeup, the perfume the whole shebang,” he grinned down at her and she could feel him growing to full tumescence again inside her.

Finding a black wig similar to Mary Whitehouse’s hair style and colouring had been easy enough. Back at the hotel in Balwyn he’d gone through the ritual of slipping into the red lingerie and heels, putting on the makeup and wig, inserting the vibrator and lying on the bed staring at the tablet whilst immobilised.

It was satisfying, he’d enjoyed re-living the crime from Mary Whitehouse’s perspective, but he couldn’t see her eyes in the video he had taken of himself fucking her on her bed. He needed to figure out how to do that; maybe wear a GoPro on his head, yes that might just work!

The idea got him so hot that he’d raced home to fuck Felicity, to watch her eyes and see if he could tell if she orgasming just by looking at them.

Now he believed he could.

*****

Penelope went back to her apartment and quickly showered and punched up Silvia’s number on her phone and spoke to her on speaker while she put on her makeup and dressed. She noticed that her skirt was tight around her waist and remembered what the college kid and Silvia had said about her being fat.

“The Crime Scene guys and the medical examiner are at the scene right now; I’ve got a team going door to door, get down here as soon as you can, I’ll text you the address,” Silvia broke the connection.

Penelope could sense the tension in Silvia's voice. Technically it was still their day off but the obvious similarity of the murder to that of Rhonda Stevens tied the cases together and it had been assigned to them. If she had any decent clothes with her she would have gone straight to the crime scene but all she had were her skank clothes and she was not turning up dressed like that.

Once again she vowed to get her drinking under control and resisted the temptation of the vodka in the freezer on her way out the door.

The crime scene, on the outside at least, was different to the last one. This was a house in suburbia, a nice neighbourhood not an apartment in the city.

The victims were different too. Rhonda was a single cocktail waitress with no kids who could barely make ends meet but Mary Whitehouse was a divorced single mom with two kids who held down a well-paid job in the finance sector.

In Mary’s bedroom though, with the exception of the lingerie being red instead of white, the crime scene was identical.

“Let me guess, no sign of forced entry. No hairs and fibres and no fingerprints,” Penelope walked over and circled the bed.

Mary Whitehouse was arranged identically to Rhonda Stevens, she could have been sleeping except for the lewd pose. Her lingerie and heels were red but other than that everything was the same. Same makeup, same Poison perfume, same pose and Penelope noticed the glistening fluid in her vulva through the translucent panties.

“What do you think the chances are that the perp left his DNA inside her?” Penelope pointed to Mary’s crotch.

“I’d say it’s more likely to be llama or camel semen than it is to be from our guy,” Silvia grunted.

“This scene is even cleaner than the last one; every hard surface has been wiped down. My preliminary take is that we are going to find no hairs or fibres except those belonging to the victim,” Bob Tanner had joined them.

Penelope took a good look at Mary Whitehouse’s face. Her lipstick had been smudged and then reapplied.

“I think he kissed her, just like Rhonda Stevens. He kissed her then he put the lipstick back on her when he posed her,” Penelope said.

“Rhonda Stevens’ lips and mouth had been cleaned; oxygen-producing detergent had been used to clean her lips and sprayed into her mouth so any DNA was destroyed. Then he fixed her makeup putting foundation and powder around the area he’d cleaned and of course another coat of lipstick on her lips,” Brendan Scott chimed in.

“Ok everyone. Let’s not assume everything is the same as last time. Work the crime scene people,” Silvia Bickle clapped her hands but she was not optimistic.

*****

Penelope and Silvia sat in the Chief of Detectives office and gave him an update.

“The FBI field office in San Antonio is sending an agent,” Gary Rasmussen steepled his fingers.

“So the cavalry is coming,” Penelope said flippantly.

“Look. Technically you need to tie three murders together before anyone uses the word serial, but with these MOs, the fetishism, the pristine crime scenes. We’ve got us a serial killer. However if you use those words outside this office you’re fired,” the Chief said half-joking – half-serious.

“You guys can set up in syndicate room two. Keep the fucking door closed I don’t want any lookie-loos leaking to the press that we might have a serial killer.”

“This guy didn’t get this good on his first rodeo. You can bet he’s killed before or at least raped women before, using the same fetishic MO,” the Chief said.

“The FBI has far more resources that we do and they can search for similar crimes across the USA, so like it or not you guys are partnering up with whoever they send,” Gary Rasmussen said with finality.

The women got up to leave.

“One more thing. Close the door,” he said gravely.

Penelope closed the door.

“Look at this. It was sent to me by some guy named Zeke Dickinson the owner of a shithole called the Starlight Lounge,” Gary pointed to a video on his computer screen.

The CCTV footage showed Penelope out back of the Starlight Lounge talking to Zeke Dickinson who offered her a flask. Penelope looked around quickly and snatched it off him and took a long pull and then handed it back.

Penelope became lightheaded and had to sit down.

“Asshole!” Silvia hissed.

“Yeah right Silvia, Zeke Dickinson is an asshole. But now he has something on one of my best, hang on let me rephrase that, someone who used to be one of my best detectives.”

“Penelope, your FITREPS have been steadily declining, you’re tardy, you’re sloppy and I hate to say this because it sounds sexist, but you’re getting fat and you look like shit most of the time. Your sympathy card is stamped null and void Penelope. We all know you’ve been through a lot but it’s time to buck up or fuck off.”

Penelope’s head was bowed and she was crying. Silvia was about to interject but Gary Rasmussen shut her down.

“Don’t you start on me Silvia! You’re enabling her. Stop being her friend and start being her partner. If she’s drinking on the job she’s liable to get you killed one day,” Gary was red-faced.

“Penelope. I respected your dad; he did a lot of good things for this PD before he died and Randolph Cody was the best street cop I’ve seen, but that’s over and done with. Get over it or get out of Balwyn PD.”

“You’re gonna sign this Final Warning, acknowledging that you are on probation and one fuck up is going to get your ass fired,” Gary slid a sheet a piece of paper across his desk.

“Silvia. You witness it and if you really are her friend you come to me if she takes another drink on the job so I can fire her. That way she knows she’s on a short leash. If she drinks and you know about it and don’t report it, I’ll put you back in a skirt and have you filing traffic reports,” the Chief said earnestly.

Penelope signed the document and they both left the Chief’s office feeling cowed.

Penelope was still crying and Silvia bundled her into the stairwell.

“You listen to me Penny. There ain’t no way this black lesbian is wearing that little skirt again just so white boys can check out her legs and her fanny, which I might add are remarkable.”

Despite the changes that had been made to the Balwyn PD after the corruption scandal, the 1970’s era uniform had not. There was a lot of tradition and sentimentality attached to it and when a vote was taken, the overwhelming majority elected to keep the old-style uniforms. The uniform was now made from modern fabrics and quite comfortable, but women police officers were still required to wear skirts and hosiery unless they were actually on the beat.

“So you gotta quit drinking right now. I’ll help you any way I can but it’s down to you ok?” Silvia said.

Penelope nodded and Silvia pulled her into her arms and held her while she sobbed. She kissed Penelope’s cheek and pushed her out to arm’s length.

“You know I love you girl but this is on you ok?” Silvia said earnestly.

Penelope nodded.

“Go and fix your face you look like a panda. Go home, get some rest and we start again tomorrow ok?” Silvia smiled.

Penelope nodded again.

“And no drinking!” Silvia added.

“I get it. No drinking,” Penelope slunk away and went home.

The next day she got up early and squeezed into her PT gear.

“Thank fuck for spandex,” she said as she pulled her tights up over her belly.

Penelope ran until she puked. She drank some water and ran again until she puked some more. She forced herself to do ten miles.

She didn’t want breakfast but she forced herself to eat some yoghurt and fruit and drink a glass of OJ. Pouring the juice she thought about the vodka in the freezer and she pulled the bottle out and drained it down the sink. She found every bottle of booze in the house and poured them away too.

“Day one,” Penelope smiled as she got into the elevator but her stomach hurt, her legs ached and she was jonesing for a drink.

“Well look at you all fresh-faced and looking good,” Silvia said to Penelope when she got in the car.

They drove to Police Plaza and moved into syndicate room two. Silvia reviewed the soft-copy case file held in the database while Penelope worked on her whiteboard, adjusting the timelines, affixing crime scene photographs, autopsy reports, victim profiles, maps, and lists of persons who had been interviewed.

It looked impressive but the cold hard fact was that the crimes were far from being solved. The two detectives were trying their hardest to have their evidence laid out as best they could before the FBI Profiler arrived.

“I’m Special Agent Bradley Wilson,” the FBI profiler introduced himself thirty minutes later.

“Are you on the FBI recruiting poster honey?” Silvia Bickle couldn’t help herself.

Bradley Wilson was around six feet tall, handsome, toned, had perfectly styled collar-length black hair and wore the FBI regulation dark suit, dazzling crisp white shirt and polished black shoes.

“I’m Lieutenant Silvia Bickle and I’ll let you know that I’m a lesbian but if I was ever going to change teams it would be someone like you who turned me,” she grinned and shook his hand.

“Don’t worry about her; she can’t help herself,” Penelope stuck out her hand.

“I’m Lieutenant Penelope Bishop,” she found his bright smile overpowering without a drink to steady her nerves.

“Nice to meet you both; where can I set up shop?” he pointed to a large suitcase he had propped in the doorway.

“Bring it in and take that desk over there. Close the door please we are trying to keep this on the down-low,” Penelope pointed to a desk she had allocated to the agent.

Bradley Wilson carried in his suitcase and started to unpack.

“I like your whiteboard,” he commented, stopping briefly to look at Penelope’s handiwork.

“Are you mocking me Agent Wilson?” Penelope said harshly.

“Oh no Lieutenant Bishop. I’m a fan of having the crime laid on a whiteboard like that; it provides me with instant visual references. Databases have their place, especially when you are searching through a myriad of documents, but the good old analogue methods still have a lot to offer,” Bradley gave Penelope a conciliatory smile.

Penelope just scowled at him.

“Look I’m not here to take over your case; I’m here to work with you guys, be part of the team so to speak. We all have our own strengths and I’m a good profiler, I’d like us all to have a good working relationship,” Bradley gave them both his best smile.

“Don’t worry about Bishop; she’s just sore because she got her ass chewed out yesterday, that’s all,” Silvia said.

Penelope gave Silvia a murderous look and then went back to what she was doing.

“Look with all the information that you already sent to Quantico I was able to start running a profile on your perpetrator. Let me get this set up and I’ll walk you through what I have,” Bradley said attempting to break the tension.

He set up a laptop and fiddled with it for a while, the FBI logo appeared on the screen and then he logged in and began manipulating a few files.

“This is what I have,” he began

“I’ve assimilated everything we have so far and I have classified our perp as ‘Organised’.”

“Organized murderers have advanced social skills, plan their crimes, display control over the victim using those social skills, leave little forensic evidence or clues, and often engage in sexual acts with the victim before the murder,” he explained.

“That’s our guy down to tee,” Silvia nodded her head.

“Based on the behavioural sequence and this guy’s signatures I have a rough profile already,” Bradley sent a document to a printer.

“Wait… behavioural what and signature who?” Penelope interjected.

“The offender's ‘signature’ is identifiable from the crime scene and is more idiosyncratic than the modus operandi — the signature is what the offender does to satisfy his psychological needs in committing the crime.”

“This offender’s behavioural sequence, or MO, is to stalk and attack single, middle aged women in their homes and kill them after assaulting them. He keeps the crime scene almost pristine leaving no trace evidence.”

“His signature is to dress them in lingerie, make them up a certain way, spray them with a specific perfume and keep them paralysed but lucid during the assault,” Bradley Wilson pointed to the crime scene photos on the whiteboard.

“That makes sense,” Silvia put her hands on her hips and nodded.

“And?” Penelope was not as magnanimous as Silvia.

Bradley took the sheet of paper out of the printer and read from it.

“Look it’s early days and we will keep updating the profile as we get more evidence but my supposition is this:”

“Married white male, late thirties – early forties, middle-class well paid professional who travels for work, college educated and works in the pharmaceutical or medical field, controlling – likely keeps firm control over his wife and any children, presents a pleasant disposition, is charming, and is likely good looking.”

“How does that sound?” he looked at Penelope and then at Silvia.

“You just pretty much parroted what we already knew,” Penelope said.

“Be fair Penny, we never really articulated that way,” Silvia gave Penelope a withering glare.

She only ever called Penelope Penny when she was angry with her.

“Ok. So what next?” Penelope asked.

“We run what we have through the criminal databases and see if we can find subjects that match our profile or crimes that match our perp’s signature,” Bradley said.

“And then lunch,” he grinned.

“Lunch?” Penelope looked perplexed.

“I’ve been on the road since five thirty this morning and I haven’t eaten. It’s going to take a while for this thing to crunch those ones and zeros so let’s go get some lunch after we’ve set the machine in motion. I bet you know a good place to eat?” he smiled a Penelope.

“Are you calling me fat?” Penelope snapped back.

“No. I’m sorry… I just meant that you are a local so you’d know a good restaurant,” Bradley apologised.

“That makes sense,” Penelope mimicked Silvia’s response to Bradley’s hypothesis, mocking her

“Teacher’s pet,” Penelope stuck out her tongue.

“What’s got into girl? Are we in high school now?” Silvia looked angrily at Penelope.

Bradley Wilson was taking a restroom stop before they headed out for lunch.

“I thought you were an angry bitch when you drank, you’re downright ornery sober,” Silvia snatched up the keys to their work vehicle and Penelope followed.

Penelope had a salad for lunch which she hated and ate self-consciously while Silvia and Bradley ate burgers and fries.

“I read up on you both before I came here. Silvia, I know that you transferred in from Houston a while ago but Penelope, you and your family have real history here,” Bradley attempted to break the ice.

“Yeah but bad history,” Penelope munched lettuce and took a sip of water.

“I find it amazing that you solved your own father’s murder and because of you, Balwyn PD got shook up and overhauled for the better,” Bradley said.

“It got shook up alright, I shot the Police Chief to death,” Penelope snorted.

“In self-defence and exposed the deep seated corruption and discrimination,’ Bradley continued.

Penelope dropped her knife and fork beside her plate.

“If you think this history lesson is somehow going to ingratiate yourself with me forget it.”

“And that isn’t the whole story; I’m no heroine. You left out the part where as well as being a cop killer I’m also a transgender alcoholic tramp. I drink too much and I fooled around on my husband who was a good man, I drove him to the point where he gave up on me and immersed himself in his work and because of me he died alone on a lonely highway, killed by a hit and run,” Penelope lamented.

The table went deathly quiet.

“You could lose a few pounds too if you want complete honesty,” Silvia needled Penelope to break the solemnness.

Penelope couldn’t help smiling. She reached across the table and squeezed Silvia’s hand briefly.

“Yeah… and I could lose a few,” she smiled grimly.

When they got back to Police Plaza the database search had identified over one hundred possible matches to their killer’s profile and crimes that possibly matched his signatures.

“What now?” Silvia asked.

“Good old fashioned policework. We divide them up and work through them one at a time and sort them into what we think could be credible matches to our perp’s MO and signatures. Those we think aren’t credible, we ditch. Then we delve deeper into the credibles,” Bradley took off his jacket and hung it up.

“Shall we get working?” Bradley smiled and started distributing case files.

It was a long afternoon and Silvia noticed Bradley yawning repeatedly as it got late.

“Ok. You’re bushed and we know that when we get tired we make mistakes so I’m calling it quitting time. We’ll meet here again tomorrow and get stuck in ok?” Penelope and Bradley agreed.

Penelope was determined to go for another run, even though her legs were aching. If nothing else it would take her mind off booze and tire her out so she could sleep. She slipped back into her tights, sports top and running shoes.

Penelope was on her third lap of Balwyn City Park when Bradley Wilson jogged up beside her.

“Want a running partner?” he grinned at her.

It was cool in the evening and Bradley was wearing cross-fit leggings and matching long sleeve top, his well-toned body only made Penelope more self-conscious of her own physique.

“I doubt I could keep up,” Penelope replied, deliberately looking ahead at the walking track.

“I can match your pace, be your running buddy. I can push you a little and then ease off when I see you are at maximum endurance or need to slow down,” Bradley countered.

“No thanks,” Penelope said brusquely.

“Oh come on, it’s always better to train with someone else,” Bradley perused the matter.

Penelope stopped running and stood still with her hands on her hips panting a little.

“Why are you pestering me?” she barked.

“Pestering?” Bradley stopped too but kept running on the spot.

“You tell me my family history, tell me I’m some kind of heroine, you wanna be my running buddy; you don’t even know me so why do you wanna buddy up to me?” Penelope asked.

“Because I want to get to know you,” Bradley gave her a grin that would melt any girl’s heart.

“What are looking for; to put a freak on your scoreboard? Fuck the tranny cop?” Penelope hissed.

Bradley’s face went from smile to frown; he looked genuinely hurt.

“You think I’m that guy?” Bradley was incredulous.

“I’m sorry. I’m the guy who volunteered to come to Balwyn because I wanted to work with you. I read about what you did when you were still a rookie and the profound affect you had on the PD here.”

“I read up on your achievements since. An excellent street cop who climbed through the ranks doing honest policework. Made detective and worked Vice and then Homicide. Has one of the highest homicide cleanup rates in all of Texas law enforcement; this despite the tragedies in her life,” Bradley had stopped running and shook his head.

“And yes I do think you are beautiful, despite how you put yourself down. Do I want to date you? Possibly; but it would just be dinner and maybe a movie but I can take a hint.” he started jogging on the spot again.

“I’ll keep it professional and if you want you can call the San Antonio Field Office tomorrow and have me replaced I won’t object. Enjoy your run Penelope; see you tomorrow,” Bradley turned and ran away.

Penelope turned around and ran in the opposite direction, running hard until she was physically sick and had a stitch. She walked home holding her side. She used the toilet, showered and brushed her teeth. She looked at herself critically.

She still had good bone structure and her face was still attractive even if she did have the beginnings of a little double chin. Her once long blonde hair was cut shorter, now shoulder length and desperately in need of a do. Her best feature, her captivating green eyes, still sparkled.

Penelope had shaved her legs and they were still in good shape, as were her 34B breasts, except for her small pot-belly and a little ass-sag, she still looked good. Yes she looked tired but she was already feeling better after just one day off the booze.

Bradley Wilson was still dressed in the hotel-provided bathrobe and about to order room service when his doorbell rang. He looked through the peephole and was surprised to see Penelope standing there. He opened the door.

“I’m an asshole,” she said.

“You’ll get no argument from me,” Bradley didn’t invite her in.

Penelope was a little stumped at being left standing in the doorway dressed in her evening coat.

“And I’d like to apologise. Please don’t go back to San Antonio, your work today was insightful and I was churlish about it; probably a little jealous if I’m honest.”

“And?” Bradley kept his hand on the door.

“And, I am an idiot not to accept your compliments so thank you and once again I apologise,” Penelope couldn’t look him in the eye.

“And?” Bradley hid his smile from her and kept the door barred.

“And if you wanted to buy me dinner sometime, I’d reconsider the invitation,” Penelope looked up.

“But you accused me of being a man who just wanted to bed you, to put a notch on my headboard,” Bradley replied.

“Ok, I’m really sorry I said that,” Penelope shuffled her feet.

“Is that all?” Bradley asked.

“Yeah… I guess that’s all,” Penelope mumbled.

“Ok. Bye,” Bradley closed the door.

Penelope sighed and turned to walk away.

Bradley flung the door open and pulled Penelope inside, slamming it behind her.

He held her at arm’s length and looked her up and down.

Penelope blushed and tried to look away but Bradley put his fingers on her chin and gently lifted her face.

“You are beautiful,” he sighed.

“Even with my little pot belly,” Penelope blushed.

“I love your little pot belly,” Bradley grinned.

“Can I kiss you?” he stared into her emerald green eyes.

“Can I just offer just one criticism of you?” Penelope whispered.

Bradley nodded.

“Sometimes you are too polite,” Penelope leaned forward and placed her lips on his.

Bradley folded her into his arms and kissed her. Penelope put her arms around him and opened her mouth a little and sent the tip of her tongue exploring and Bradley reciprocated, holding her tighter.

“You're dressed in a bathrobe,” she said breathlessly when they finally broke the kiss.

“And you still have your coat on,” Bradley helped Penelope out of her heavy coat and folded it over a chair.

Penelope was wearing a little black A-line skirt, a red silk blouse, sheer black stockings and heels. She had accessorised a little in anticipation that Bradley might want to take her to dinner.

“You do look great,” he smiled at her.

“I think you are over-complimenting me,” Penelope blushed.

Bradley pulled her back into his arms and kissed her.

“I find you fascinating,” he grinned.

“I have to ask. Is it because I’m transgender,” Penelope looked a little concerned.

“I would be lying if I said no, but that just adds to your mystique. I consider you a rare and unique beauty who is in need further exploration, if I may be so bold as to use that analogy.”

“Is that too forward?” he asked.

“And how do you intend to go about exploring my rare and unique beauty?” Penelope said coyly.

“I intend to get dressed and take you to dinner and have an insightful conversation with you and hang off every word you say to show how fascinated I am with you.”

“If the date goes well and you decide I am worthy I intend to ask you out again and to continue to court you until I can convince you that my intentions are honourable,” Bradley replied.

“So are you asking me out on a date right now?” Penelope teased him.

“You didn’t come here dressed like that just to apologise. You could have come here still dressed in your jogging clothes to do that, although I don’t mind adding that seeing you in your leggings and tight sports top was quite a delight,” he grinned.

“Ok. Now you really are exaggerating. Let’s just say I’ve said yes to dinner,” Penelope capitulated.

“Ok. Let me go and get dressed; apparently the restaurant here is pretty good,” Bradley kissed her cheek and retired to the bedroom.

Bradley disrobed and didn’t hear Penelope slink into the bedroom behind him, her footsteps muffled by the thick carpeting.

Penelope pressed herself against his bare warm flesh and whispered in his ear.

“I’m nearly forty; I don’t have time for the teenage crush phase of a relationship.”

“How do you know I’m ready to go any further than dating just yet?” he replied.

“This is a good indication,” Penelope reached around and squeezed his erect penis.

Bradley groaned.

He turned around and took Penelope in his arms and kissed her. This time she opened her mouth immediately so they could tongue-kiss. Penelope continued to squeeze his cock and it grew to full tumescence in her hand.

Bradley led Penelope to the bed and lay her down and scooted up close to her. He kissed her softly and his hands began to explore her body. He slowly unbuttoned her blouse and unclasped her brassiere and then he stroked her breasts, his fingers caressing the tender flesh and her enlarged nipples. He noticed the fading bruises on her alabaster skin but said nothing.

Bradley lowered his face to her bosom and spent some time using his mouth on her breasts, kissing and licking her areola and then moving on to her nipples. Penelope guided his head where she needed it while she slowly stroked his hard cock, milking little jewels of pre-ejaculate which she rubbed into his sensitive flesh.

“Can I undress you?” Bradley sighed.

“Remember the one criticism I had of you sometimes being too polite?” Penelope whispered.

Penelope raised herself up so Bradley could remove her blouse and brassiere, than he helped her slip out of her skirt. She was wearing red satin full-cut bikini panties, her black stockings were hold-ups and at this stage he had no intention of removing either.

He lowered his face to her belly and kissed the pale flesh. Penelope was self-conscious and tried to move his face from there but he resisted and continued to kiss and caress her there with his lips and tongue. Eventually he moved down to her hips and then to her thighs, using his mouth while his hands fondled her breasts.

Penelope was uncomfortably tumescent and needed to free her erect penis from between her legs and was about to do so when Bradley moved his mouth down to her panties. He licked the front of them and slipped his fingers inside and found the tape holding her tucked penis and scrotum in place.

He tore it off and Penelope winced but she sighed when her bloated penis sprang free and her testes descended. Bradley stroked her hardened phallus through the red satin and smiled when he saw a little wet patch darken the fabric.

Penelope indicated that she wanted him to lie top to tail with her and when he shifted position she took him in her mouth and began to suckle his hard cock. Bradley gasped and eased Penelope's cock out of the leg-hole of her panties and reciprocated, using his lips and tongue to good effect.

Penelope removed his cock from her mouth briefly.

“This is not your first rodeo is it cowboy?” Penelope sighed.

“My last girlfriend was transgender. How am I doing do far?” he chuckled.

“Less talking, more fellatio,” Penelope guided his penis back to her mouth.

Bradley returned to licking, kissing and sucking Penelope’s penis, swallowing her pre-cum as the delightful little gobbets oozed from her glans. Penelope was enjoying working on Bradley’s cock with her mouth but she was close to climax and she wanted him inside her.

Bradley got the message and changed position, lifting her legs up high and kneeling between them. He rubbed his face on her nylon-sheathed calves and kissed her ankles, knowing that she was impatient and deliberately drawing out the consummation of their passion.

He eased aside the gusset of her panties and saw the tell-tale gleam of lubricant around her puckered sphincter. She was pre-lubricated.

“So you just came here to apologise but you decided to lubricate your anus just in case,” he needled her, smiling down at her, his eyes filled with lust.

“We can always stop now if you don’t want to…” Penelope didn’t finish her response because Bradley pushed his glans inside her sphincter.

“Oh dear,” Penelope sighed looking up at him, her vivid green eyes sparkling with passion.

“Is that ok?” Bradley looked down at her with a concerned look.

“Too polite, remember?” Penelope opened her legs and pushed up, slowly impaling herself on his hard rod.

They both moaned and then Bradley fell on her, kissing her while he rutted; fucking her hard and fast.

Penelope closed her legs around him and held him close, rising to meet his thrusts, encouraging him. His cock was long and thick and he knew how to use it, driving it deep inside Penelope and stimulating her prostate. They kissed and fucked with fervour, both working hard to climax. Penelope used her sphincter and anal muscles to squeeze Bradley's cock and she heard him gasp and felt his cock quiver inside her.

She pushed her belly up so that her cock was rubbing on his hard flesh through her panties.

When Bradley filled her with his hot seed she came with him, her own semen flooding her panties and smearing Bradley’s belly.

They fucked hard, wresting every scintilla of pleasure from each other, kissing and pawing at each other, Penelope raking her high heels on his flanks, like she was riding a stallion.

Bradley lay on top of Penelope exhausted and she lay beneath him panting.

When Bradley finally regained control of his breathing he started to kiss her all over again.

“What about dinner?” Penelope asked.

“Fuck dinner! Is that impolite enough for you?” he lowered his face to her breasts.

Penelope giggled like a girl. She realised that for the first time in a long time she was actually making love, not just fucking to forget.

To be continued