Addicted (24 page)

I could hardly
believe my eyes as I was about to open the door. Sticking through
the letterbox was an erect penis, the foreskin pulled back,
exposing the beautiful knob, the sperm-slit. Gary? I wondered,
dropping to my knees and eagerly taking the purple crown deep into
my spunk-thirsty mouth. Perhaps it was the postman! Whoever, it
didn't matter. Fervently licking, sucking, wanking, I prayed for
the anonymous man's spunk to gush, to fill my cheeks and bring me
serenity.

The penis
throbbing, twitching as I ran my tongue over the silky-smooth
glans, I was about to find solace from my terrible symptoms. But I
couldn't go on like this, desperately craving the drug, wondering
from one day to the next where my next fix was coming from. But all
I could do was live for the moment, for the imminent coming.

A muffled gasp
came from behind the door as the man's knob swelled within my
thirsty mouth. I wanked his solid shaft faster, fervently sucked
and licked, desperate for his sperm. A long low moan accompanied
his spunk as it flowed from his throbbing glans, filling my mouth,
dribbling down my chin. Gobbling, sucking his orgasming plum, I
sensed my clitoris swell, my vaginal muscles tighten as I drank his
salty offering.

Gushing,
pumping, the sperm flowed in torrents, bathing my tongue, bringing
me life, freedom. I sucked and drank, sucked and drank until I'd
drained his balls. I wanted his balls in my mouth, full, hairy. I
wanted his tongue in my cunt, lapping up my juices of arousal. I
needed sex, orgasm - I'd use my candle later, candle-fuck my
cunt.

Swallowing the
last of the anonymous man's salty spunk, I slipped his knob out of
my mouth and licked around the sperm-slit, not wasting one globule
of the opaque liquid. The drug quickly taking effect, I sensed calm
bath me, serenity engulf me as I sat on my heels and watched the
spent organ withdraw.

I was tempted
to peer through the letterbox and discover the identity of my
supplier, but no. He'd be back; I didn't need to know who he was.
He'd ring the bell and slip his cock through the letterbox,
offering me the fruits of his loins. What if Tony happened to be
home and went to answer the door and discovered an erect penis
sticking through the letterbox? I giggled at the thought. I felt
better, brighter.

Slipping my
smock off as I bounded upstairs, I looked down at my breasts. My
nipples had completely healed, the gold rings like small halos
adorning my elongated milk teats. My vagina wetting, my labia
swelling, my clitoris tingling, I sensed decadence mounting -
wickedness rising.

Running a
bath, I sank into the hot soapy water and cleansed my abused body,
shaved the fresh stubble from my cunt lips, my sex mound. Running
my fingertip around my bottom-hole excited me. Should I explore
inside? I wondered. Tentatively pushing against the sensitive
tissue, I slipped my finger into my private hole. Warm, tight, I
massaged my inner flesh, bringing lewd sensations, exciting
sensations. I gasped, my clitoris stirring, my outer labia swelling
- I craved sex, orgasm.

Later, I
decided, slipping my finger out of my bottom-hole. I had work to
do, I'd candle-fuck my cunt later. Now I'd had my fix, I'd be able
to work, to paint my pornography and earn some money - and a name
for myself. Leaping out of the bath, I towelled my naked body -
glowing, sexy. Sheena, I mused, running the towel between my cunt
lips. I had to contact my agent and discover what was going on. Had
she found a potential client for my pornographic filth?

After
breakfast, I donned my smock, the aroma of oils and white spirit
filling my nostrils. Tchaikovsky playing, a cup of coffee on the
paint-splattered table, I stretched a new canvas over the wooden
frame and placed it on my easel. I'd ring Sheena later, I decided.
When inspiration comes, everything else has to wait - even
masturbation.

A girl on all
fours, her buttocks projected, her anal entrance and pussy slit
clearly visible. A man beneath her, perhaps? Yes, a man beneath her
with his huge cock driving deep into her cunt. Another man
straddling her, his penis embedded within her tight arsehole, her
brown tissue stretched tautly around the veined shaft.

I began with a
pencil, roughly outlining the girl, her rounded buttocks, her
bulging, hairless cunt lips. Craning her neck, her face would
depict the lewd pleasure she was deriving from the double fucking.
Should I try a double fucking? One cock fucking my cunt and another
fucking my arsehole? Cruder and cruder by the day.

Grabbing the
ringing phone, I shook my head in despair. Who the hell was it
interrupting me? I wondered, praying that it wasn't Tony with his
questions, his inspiration-killing lines. He'd once been a book
that I couldn't put down, fascinating, mesmerising. But I'd read
him again and again, there was nothing left, nothing new. Do you
throw away a well-read book? No, books were shelved - Tony would be
shelved.

"Hi, Helen,"
Tony said. My stomach sank.

"Oh, Tony, how
are you?"

"You won't
believe this, I'm still at the bloody airport."

Try as I did,
I couldn't muster up a glimmer of interest. "Why?" I asked
tonelessly.

"There's no
flight, I'll have to come home and catch one tomorrow."

"Come home?"
Despondency drowned me. "You're coming home now?"

"Yes, there's
no point in hanging around here. I've been here all night as it
is."

"I'll see you
later, then."

"Yes, within a
couple of hours. How are things with you?"

"Fine, fine.
I'm working, or, I was."

"OK, I'll let
you get on. See you later."

"Yes, see you
later."

That was all I
needed! I'd had my fix, my music was playing, the sketch of the
girl coming on nicely - and now Tony was returning to disrupt my
work, my life. It's funny how I'd been so pleased when he'd come
home from work in the past. Excitement used to grip me as I looked
forward to making love, but now? We'd not had sex for some time,
and I prayed that he'd not suggest that we go to bed - I couldn't
face the prospect of his penis driving into my adulterous cunt.

I'd had so
many different cocks that Tony's seemed to pale into
insignificance. But turning him down, denying him sex, would only
fuel his suspicion. Perhaps Suzie would satisfy him? No, perhaps
not! How to explain my nipple rings? Another bloody bridge to be
crossed.

I worked on my
painting for a couple of hours, listening out for the front door,
for Tony's key in the lock. Even though he wasn't there, he was
distracting me, destroying my concentration. The very thought of
his imminent arrival unnerved me, disgruntled me. What would he say
about my pierced nipples, my gold rings? There were two ways to
handle the problem, either lift my smock up and be proud to display
my rings, or hide them. They were my nipples, why should I hide
them?

He arrived at
lunchtime, briefcase in hand, forehead lined as he entered the
studio. I'd covered the girl's naked buttocks, the penises driving
into her stretched bottom-hole, her cunt. There was no point in
riling Tony the minute he'd walked into the studio.

"Here I am
again," he smiled, kissing my cheek. His aftershave had worn
off.

I felt
dullness swamp me, darkness drown me. "Yes, here you are again.
Tony, I have a hell of a lot of work to do, so if you don't mind
leaving me to get on."

"Yes, of
course. I'll make some lunch, I'm famished. Would you like
anything?"

Only peace and quiet
. "No, I'm OK,
thanks."

"I phoned a
dozen times last night to tell you what was happening but..."

"I was
out."

"Oh,
right."

As Tony left
the studio, I felt my stomach sinking. Why had I changed so much?
Why didn't I want him anywhere near me? Guilt, I reflected - guilt
overwhelmed me. I'd accepted my addiction to sperm, how it had
transformed me, but having my nipples pierced? My addiction had led
me astray, more than astray - it had changed me beyond
recognition.

Pulling the
front of my smock away from my firm breasts, I gazed down at my
elongated nipples, the gold rings, wondering how to explain, what
to say. Again, I told myself that they were my nipples, to do with
as I wished - but it didn't help. My nipples or not, what I'd done
to them reflected the new me, the inner me that had been dormant
for years. I couldn't hide my true self from anyone, least of all
me.

Tony kept well
clear of my studio for the afternoon, leaving me to work on my
painting. The girl was coming on well, better than ever, and I
couldn't wait for Sheena's reaction when she set eyes on my
creation - the cocks thrusting into the girl's crudely bloated sex
holes, the swinging balls, the dribbling spunk... Pulling the cloth
over the canvas when I'd decided that I'd had enough, I wondered
what Tony was up to, where he'd gone.

Searching the
house, I realized that he must have gone out, probably to the pub
for a beer. I was pleased, and changed into a short skirt and
blouse, knickerless and braless, as was usual now. Descending the
stairs, my heart almost stopped as I realized that my worst-ever
nightmare was coming true - my symptoms were showing signs of
returning. My hands trembling slightly, my heart missing the odd
beat, I couldn't believe it. I'd had my fix that morning; surely it
should last for a couple of days at least?

When Gary rang
and demanded that I go and visit him, his prison cell, I didn't
know what to say. I couldn't disappear for half the evening with
Tony around, the perpetual questioning would be unbearable! But my
panic was rising fast and, as usual, Tony was never there when I
needed him. Should I have him based in London or abroad? I didn't
know. As far as my feelings for Tony were concerned, I was totally
confused.

Leaving the
house, I wandered down the lane, fearful that my panic would rise
to frightening heights and I'd become a quivering, nervous wreck. I
couldn't allow Tony to see me like that! Taking a deep breath, I
knew that I had no choice. Visiting Gary again was a mistake, but
it was a mistake that was to enlighten me, open my eyes to
something that, even in my wildest dreams, I would never have
imagined possible.

Opening his
front door, Gary almost yanked me into the house and dragged me
through the hall to the prison cell. Frightened, I prayed that my
fix would last for two days, if not three, as in the past. I
couldn't endure having to seek men out and swallow sperm every day,
twice a day!

"Get in there,
you slag!" Gary ordered me, grabbing my arm and pointing to a large
wooden box he'd constructed. I didn't know what I was doing as I
stepped into the box and knelt down, my thinking was going haywire.
All I wanted was sperm, and I realized with horror that I'd do
anything in return - anything!

Before closing
the lid, Gary lifted my skirt up over my back and pushed my
buttocks through a large hole cut in the end of the box. He held my
crudely bared arse in position with a leather strap buckled around
my middle. My buttocks projecting through the hole, my anal
entrance, my cunt, were vulnerable to my unseen abuser. Again, I'd
fallen prey to my addiction, to Gary's perverted mind.

He locked the
lid; I was in darkness, trapped, unable to move, unable to protect
my sex holes. I heard chuckling, male chuckling as another man
entered the room. Someone slapped my buttocks and my body jolted.
Was it Phil? I wondered. How many men had Gary rounded up to fuck
me, to whip and arse-fuck me? Squeezing my eyes shut as a finger
rudely drove deep into my anal sheath, I cried silently, secretly,
within the darkness of the box.

"Which is it
to be, her cunt or her arse?" Gary asked his guest, his accomplice
in debauchery.

"Her arse,
first." I knew the voice, it was Tony. Stunned, I listened
intently, wondering whether I'd been mistaken - but knowing that I
hadn't.

"Really give
it to her!" Gary laughed. "Fuck her for all you're worth!"

"How long have
you been up to this sort of thing?" Tony asked.

"I transformed
this room into my sex den ages ago."

"Now I know
why you wanted me to wait in the lounge while you answered the
door. Who's the tart?"

"Just some
little prostitute I picked up a few weeks back. What do you want to
do, talk about her or fuck her?"

"Fuck her!"
Tony chortled.

I sensed his
knob against my anal ring, pushing, forcing its way past my
tightening sphincter muscles. Suddenly, he gasped, I gasped - he
was in. His shaft slipped deeper into my rectal duct, opening me,
defiling me. Anal sex, crude sex - filthy sex. But this was my
husband! How could he do this? An unknown girl, her sex ducts
crudely on offer, and he'd thought nothing of forcing his cock deep
into her arsehole!

"Christ, she's
tight bitch!" Tony cried, withdrawing his solid organ and thrusting
into me again, his balls slapping my ballooning cunt lips, his
pubic hair tickling my sensitive sex flesh. "There's nothing like a
quick fuck on the side!"

"What Helen
would say, I can't imagine!" Gary laughed, bastard that he was. I'd
kill him!

"I can! She'd
go bloody mental!"

"Still, she'll
never know, will she?"

"Never!"

Tony arse-fucked me with a vengeance, thrusting his cock in
and out of my bottom-hole until his knob swelled and his sperm
gushed. I'd committed adultery out of necessity; he was doing it
out of sexual greed, lust. And he'd had the nerve to tell me
that
I'd
changed!
If anyone had changed, then... had he changed? No, he must have
always been like this, fucking any girl who offered him her body,
her arsehole, for his debased pleasure. Were all men like this?
Yes, I concluded.