Read Online Sinister Touch (erotica anthology) by V T Turner - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: V T Turner
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again, harder.
He got into the swing of things and began to take over. He stopped caring about the street, about the nothingness beyond, and turned her over, twisting until he lay on top of her, until she could feel his cock sticking into her stomach. She worked through the material, managed to free it before she pulled down her leggings, pried her knickers to one side and then pulled him into her.
He was quick, desperate, eager. He drove into her with a hungry ferocity, his urgency evident in his powerful, deep thrusts. He finished quickly, but it was still enough for her. She needed that, had been waiting for it all week.
He flattened himself on top of her, she could feel his entire weight, feel his cock as it pulsed and spat its final globs of spunk inside her. Then he rolled off, breathless.
She stood up, straightened out her clothes, repositioned her knickers and her pants, indifferent to the way the material now stuck to her pussy.
“Thank you,” she said with a smile.
He looked up at her, confused. He opened his mouth to say something but she was already gone, walking into the emptiness, the nothingness that he had been so apprehensive about.
She walked until the stench of wet, damp and mould left her nose, until the air was no longer polluted with makeshift bonfires, burning in disused bins. She left the world of underpasses, of twilight intoxication; a world where a cough, a splutter and a sickness was never more than a few feet away.
The soles of her damaged boots slapped the pavements, stained with a blackened film from layers of exhaust pollution, sidestepped a suspect pool of liquid that flowed from a corner wall like a conquering army trying to expand its territory. She cut through a park, its looming trees creating ominous shadows in the glare of moonlight; passed over a small bridge, the stream below trickling putrified water over rocks, broken shopping trolleys and dumped human detritus.
She walked up a cobbled path, across a quiet street and into an alley that lead into a car park, empty but for a sleek black BMW and a patient driver who waited by the hood.
The driver smiled when she approached. He didn’t ask her anything, didn’t utter a word, nor did he comment on her appearance, on how, in the short time since he left her, she had managed to get even dirtier. He merely stood back, opened the door for her and greeted her with a smile and a complimentary, “Madam,” which was said with a small nod of his head.
She climbed into the spacious backseat, immediately kicked off her shoes, ripped off the top few layers of her clothes and changed into a long coat and a pair of high heel shoes left on the backseat. The driver waited outside, he wouldn't be able to see her through the tinted windows, but he turned the other way anyway. When she had finished she knocked on the glass and he climbed behind the steering wheel.
“Home, madam?” he asked, giving his boss a meek smiling through the rearview mirror.
She nodded, returned the smile and didn’t say another word as he pulled away and took her home; to her estate in the country, to her husband and her kids, to her chores and her obligations. Back to the menial, the pompous and the pointless of everyday life.
She sighed, long and satisfying. It didn’t really matter. She had what she wanted, that would keep her content for a few weeks at least, then, when the boredom returned, when the typical became mundane and the usual became meaningless, she would return. She wouldn’t see the nervous young man again, wouldn’t even go to the same part of town, but there were plenty of people waiting to take his place.
The Pain Game
Annie stamped her foot down hard, ground her heel. She cursed under her breath, ground her back teeth together, frothed at the mouth.
Across from her, equally angry, less monstrous, was
He got into the swing of things and began to take over. He stopped caring about the street, about the nothingness beyond, and turned her over, twisting until he lay on top of her, until she could feel his cock sticking into her stomach. She worked through the material, managed to free it before she pulled down her leggings, pried her knickers to one side and then pulled him into her.
He was quick, desperate, eager. He drove into her with a hungry ferocity, his urgency evident in his powerful, deep thrusts. He finished quickly, but it was still enough for her. She needed that, had been waiting for it all week.
He flattened himself on top of her, she could feel his entire weight, feel his cock as it pulsed and spat its final globs of spunk inside her. Then he rolled off, breathless.
She stood up, straightened out her clothes, repositioned her knickers and her pants, indifferent to the way the material now stuck to her pussy.
“Thank you,” she said with a smile.
He looked up at her, confused. He opened his mouth to say something but she was already gone, walking into the emptiness, the nothingness that he had been so apprehensive about.
She walked until the stench of wet, damp and mould left her nose, until the air was no longer polluted with makeshift bonfires, burning in disused bins. She left the world of underpasses, of twilight intoxication; a world where a cough, a splutter and a sickness was never more than a few feet away.
The soles of her damaged boots slapped the pavements, stained with a blackened film from layers of exhaust pollution, sidestepped a suspect pool of liquid that flowed from a corner wall like a conquering army trying to expand its territory. She cut through a park, its looming trees creating ominous shadows in the glare of moonlight; passed over a small bridge, the stream below trickling putrified water over rocks, broken shopping trolleys and dumped human detritus.
She walked up a cobbled path, across a quiet street and into an alley that lead into a car park, empty but for a sleek black BMW and a patient driver who waited by the hood.
The driver smiled when she approached. He didn’t ask her anything, didn’t utter a word, nor did he comment on her appearance, on how, in the short time since he left her, she had managed to get even dirtier. He merely stood back, opened the door for her and greeted her with a smile and a complimentary, “Madam,” which was said with a small nod of his head.
She climbed into the spacious backseat, immediately kicked off her shoes, ripped off the top few layers of her clothes and changed into a long coat and a pair of high heel shoes left on the backseat. The driver waited outside, he wouldn't be able to see her through the tinted windows, but he turned the other way anyway. When she had finished she knocked on the glass and he climbed behind the steering wheel.
“Home, madam?” he asked, giving his boss a meek smiling through the rearview mirror.
She nodded, returned the smile and didn’t say another word as he pulled away and took her home; to her estate in the country, to her husband and her kids, to her chores and her obligations. Back to the menial, the pompous and the pointless of everyday life.
She sighed, long and satisfying. It didn’t really matter. She had what she wanted, that would keep her content for a few weeks at least, then, when the boredom returned, when the typical became mundane and the usual became meaningless, she would return. She wouldn’t see the nervous young man again, wouldn’t even go to the same part of town, but there were plenty of people waiting to take his place.
The Pain Game
Annie stamped her foot down hard, ground her heel. She cursed under her breath, ground her back teeth together, frothed at the mouth.
Across from her, equally angry, less monstrous, was
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