Going Up and Going Down (2 page)

“You…your
body…is...so…sensual, Helen. It’s beautiful.” It pleased me to see the
appreciation in his eyes and I beamed back at him.

“You’ve got a
very sexy body yourself. I bet you work out at the gym a lot?” I asked.

“Not quite as
much as I would like to. I enjoy a really good workout. It makes me feel good
about myself. I think the best workout I’m likely to get this week is the one
that I’m planning with you very shortly.”

I was getting
somewhat hot and bothered by this man, there was something really scorching hot
about him, but I couldn’t pinpoint why I should be so bothered. He had already
told me that he wasn’t in to perverted sex, so why was I worrying?

I checked my
make-up (as always) before putting on a very short, lacy robe that I had
packed. David just grabbed the bathrobe from the hook behind the bathroom door
and I noticed he dabbed a little men’s fragrance on himself before leaving and
closing the door behind him.

When I went
back into the bedroom, he had put some classical music on in my absence and he
was laid on the bed with his head propped up on the pillows, hands behind his
head. He looked, and smelled, amazing. I was looking forward to the sex, but I
did have some reservations. Perhaps he was going to be a let-down in the sex
department? You can never tell. Of the clients I’d had over the previous few
weeks, I did tend to think it was the plainer looking guys that were the best
lovers. They tried harder to turn me on. David wouldn’t need to try. I was
turned on already just seeing his body reclining on the bed.

“Come here,
Helen. Come and lie down next to me. I’ve poured us another glass of wine.”

Not wanting to
appear too eager, I casually fiddled with a few of my cosmetics on the dressing
table before clambering on to the bed. I noticed that his towelling robe was
slightly apart and exposing the tops of his thighs with just a glimpse of his
dick showing. I was flushed. I could feel the heat on my forehead and an
excited tingle in my nether regions - I wanted him so bad. I wanted him to fuck
me that very minute, couldn’t wait for him to touch me. It occurred to me that
perhaps I should be paying him.  I made myself comfortable next to him and
leaning across towards me, he didn’t open up my robe, but pulled the sides
apart slightly to reveal some of my cleavage.

“You really are
beautiful, do you know that? You are a truly lovely person. I was told that by
the friend, well...acquaintance really, the one who gave me your number. If he
hadn’t told me, I could see it for myself in your eyes - the moment I met you
tonight.” His eyes locked on mine.

“It can’t be
easy, doing what you do.” I didn’t look away from his gaze - I couldn’t,
although I tried hard enough.

“It certainly
makes my job easier – having a client like you. You are very hot, extremely
good-looking - what more could a girl want?”

“Money,
apparently.” His comment stung and he must have seen it in my eyes.

“Touche!”

“I am sorry,
Helen. I didn’t mean it to come out as it did. I never meant to imply
anything.”

He looked
mortified at the thought he’d offended me so I giggled, “I’ve had much worse
things than that said to me over the years, before I was…before I made a career
out of this.”

He leaned
further towards me as if to kiss me, and I kissed the side of his cheek and
down towards his neck, though I so badly wanted his lips on mine. He caught on
quickly.

“Ah. I see -
that’s fine.”

I felt as if I
had been scorched when his lips first touched my cheek in return and then
copying my first move, he was kissing my neck ever so gently. I winced and he
asked, “Are you OK?”

Rather than
answer him I openly displayed my pleasure by gently nibbling his neck and
moaning. He was setting me on fire so quickly I could feel the burning and
wanton desire in the pit of my stomach and I tensed even further as he opened
my robe and his lips traced a path down to my breasts, slowly tracing a circle
around each of my nipples in turn, tormenting - and whilst his tongue had
barely made contact, my nipples stood very proud and erect. He was breathing
heavily and his hands were gently massaging my belly, first around the navel
and edging each careful finger width towards my pubic hair. I was impatient. I
was experiencing some awakening - something that had lain dormant for months.
It was now re-emerging - an uninhibited desire to fuck and be fucked was taking
over me. I was not going to wait - I was going to take the lead in this, such
was my craving for him. I pushed him onto his back again and planted my lips
firmly around his wonderful swollen piece of muscle.

He groaned out
loud, “Wow! What a tigress, taking the lead. Do I turn you on, honey? Do you
want it bad tonight? Do you want me to make you come?” I muttered a reply as
well as I could manage, my lips caressing every inch of his dick. “You…are…turning…me
on. I’m not…wanting
it…
bad, I want
you
…real bad. I want you…to
fuck me…want to make…this…the best…fuck…you’ve ever...had in your life.”

“I’m sure you
will, but…hey, go steady there…don’t make me come too soon. I’m finding this...”
He broke off his words at that point and he was stroking my breasts again,
tweaking and pulling at my nipples. I was feeling ready to explode and he
wasn’t even inside me yet.

“I’m going to
fuck you now…wherever you’d like me to fuck you, let’s do it…I want to shove my
cock into you…feel you come all over me.”

I reluctantly
moved my mouth away from his cock and took his hand. I led him over to the
dressing table and pushed aside all the bottles. I sat myself at the very edge.
He bit into my neck again at the same time his hands eased that throbbing piece
of delight inside me. He grabbed hold of my tits as I wrapped my legs around
his bottom. I held him firm as he thrust at me and he reached all my nerves with
one hard thrust - my g-spot, my clit and I held tight onto him. Every inch of
him was inside of me. I tightened my inner muscles around him and could feel
his nerves pounding. The power of his pounding was driving my desire to new
heights and I didn’t really want to come, I didn’t want him to come, I wanted
to stay locked like this, feeling the intensity of my emotions…and the
anticipation. I don’t know how I managed to hold it back for five to ten
minutes but somehow I did. His movements back and forth were not long
movements, his tool was only moving in and out maybe an inch, but the feeling
was beyond ecstasy. His pubic bone was grinding against my clit.

“I…can’t
hold…much longer…can you…come quick, babe?” he gasped.

“Go for it
David….just fuck me…but fuck me hard. When you come I’ll explode, I know I
will…just let me have it, let me have your spunk now.”

His pace
quickened and his thrusts were hard, much deeper, almost pulling out completely
before thrusting in again, hard and deep, hard and deep, and it was
breath-taking. My every nerve was at its pinnacle and the instant I knew he was
coming, I finally let go. I was bathed in the flood of our warm fluids and
struggling to catch my breath. My whole body shook from the orgasm that was
slow to die away.

“That was…so
good…beautiful” he breathlessly struggled to get the words out as he rested his
chin on my shoulder “and I don’t need to ask if it was good for you. I can see
that you enjoy being fucked.”

We stayed in
our position at the dressing table for maybe five minutes and it felt so good
to have his arms around me. I wanted to lay on the bed with him, be cuddled by
him for the rest of the night. It had been good – too good. He cuddled up and
we talked for a short while before drifting off to sleep. I could feel him kiss
the back of my head just before I finally dozed.

When I woke up
a few hours later he was stirring. Catching a glimpse of the clock I saw that
it was 6.45am. I switched the kettle on, and using the complimentary coffee
sachets I prepared the cups. With the noisy kettle coming to the boil he was
soon awake. I went to freshen myself up and brush my teeth and he followed me
into the bathroom to take a pee.

“Kettle’s
on…coffee? Or would you prefer tea?” I asked.

“Whatever
you’re having will be fine by me, babe.”

“Coffee it is
then. Get back into bed, and I’ll bring it over.” He kissed me on the cheek
when I got back into bed, and asked if I had slept well. I assured him that I
had.

After I had
finished my coffee I went into the bathroom and got under the shower. I closed
my eyes as I washed my hair, lost in my thoughts about this man. A shudder of
excitement about him fucking me the previous night…not wanting to be overjoyed
about it…worrying…about what?…frightening thoughts…So lost, deep in thought…until
I felt his hands around my waist. I opened my eyes, blinking the lather of the
shampoo from my eyelashes. He raised me up quickly and as I wrapped my legs
around him he shoved his cock hard into me and my back slammed against the
tiles. I was in heaven, his hard slamming sending me into a new dimension. His
cock felt like a rod of iron. I rubbed my lathered hands all over his back with
one hand as the other held tight around his neck trying to stop myself from
sliding down his body. I didn’t want to slide away from his rod, his throbbing
was intense and my hole was on fire. After ten minutes his knees couldn’t take
any more and they started buckling…his cock slipped out of me and he moaned
urgently in frustration, “Helen…get…on the…floor…quick!”

 I half slipped
in my rush to the floor…onto my knees…. eager to be fucked…for him to come
inside me. I’d barely made contact with the floor when he rammed into my fanny
again, so hard…so deep…and I was there…climaxing …I screamed out in pain and
intense pleasure. As I screamed out for the second time, I felt his knob
spurting, and with each spurt, I came again…and again. David groaned out loudly
and bit into my neck. I threw my head back and closed my eyes, hardly able to
cope with the intensity of my orgasm as I felt the last squirt of his juices
inside me.

As my flight
took off from Paris CDG five hours later I heaved a sigh of relief. I was
finally away from him. Not being in his company strengthened my resolve. Much
as I had enjoyed David’s company
and
being fucked by him, it was a one
off. I hoped he wouldn’t be in touch with me again. I felt traumatised at the
thought.

Love.....and hurt

As an only
child I was lucky enough to have the most amazing parents in the world. They
were unable to have any more children after I was born so I was lavished with
all their love and affection and wanted for nothing. Yes, I was totally spoilt,
but they were also sensible and down to earth enough not to let me become a
brat, or a snob. Dad had inherited a nice sum from my grandparents when they
died during my teenage years. He owned his own advertising agency, an apartment
in central Paris and a villa in Marbella (for the golf, he told his friends).
Our home, which they’d purchased when I was four years old, was a fairly modest
four bedroom detached, and was situated in one of the most pleasant areas in Richmond. Mum was lucky in that since she had married Dad she had never needed to go out
to work.

They paid for
me to have the very best private education but only as a day pupil. I couldn’t
have coped with life as a boarder. I had it all – the ballet lessons, the
ponies, the violin lessons, and as I approached my teens and throughout the
teenage years, I always had the latest fashion in clothes, holidays abroad,
almost everything a girl could ever want – except friends. I never had any
friends. I was occasionally allowed to tag along with a small group of girls
who tolerated me, but that was it. I was bullied constantly from first starting
school and right through senior school years too. I never knew the reasons
behind it all. They just tended to hit me (a lot) but nobody ever actually told
me why. They called me Morticia, which I assume was because of my long dark
hair. I had a few theories both then and since, but I suppose only the bullies
themselves could give the real reason, although it is most unlikely that I will
ever see them again to ask why.

My first theory
was that they were all snobs, because despite my very privileged upbringing I
was always down to earth and I never looked down on anybody as they did. I
treated everybody exactly the same -wealthy or poor. My second thought was that
their parents didn’t appear to have as much money as mine. It was as if they
were scrimping to give their kids a private education, but there was little
left over for the holidays, ponies, and clothes - except for the parents with
mounting credit card debts maybe. My final theory was that a whole gang of them
caught me, aged eleven, and Alex Baker-Thompson (best looking lad in the
school) behind the bike sheds. As a gang of the bullies approached from the
playing field, Alex had his finger poking up the leg of my knickers. He’d been
feeling around my newly acquired pubes trying to locate my fanny, and his hard
little dick was poking out of his fly-hole for all to see.

It further
didn’t help matters that I was more sexually aware than they were. Without
wanting to sound too cocky, the lads all seemed to fancy me (and some were so
much better than Alex at finding and fingering my hole), and I was pretty much
attracted to a lot of them, but mainly the older ones. Word also got around
thanks to James Barton, that he had fucked me in the P.E. storeroom; one
particular Friday lunchtime (it was true, he took my virginity and I was
fourteen years old). That certainly didn’t help my cause with the bullies! I
tended to have a lot less bother with the bitches if I ignored the lads
completely, so I tried hard to do so most of the time, at least when other
girls were around.

Whatever the
reasons for the bullying, I was well and truly alone at school. I never told
Mum and Dad about any of it. I didn’t want to be a cry baby, and most of all I
didn’t want to give the bullies the satisfaction of letting them know they’d
got to me. I just took the slappings and never once ran away - I’m made of
tougher stuff than that. Quite a few of the teachers were aware I was having a
tough time and they would make sure the bullies noticed their presence when on
duty on the school playing field. I always tried not to let it bother me, but
sometimes I would silently cry myself to sleep and vow to keep in the
background and unnoticed the next day at school. Surprisingly enough my lessons
never suffered and I determined to get my revenge on the bullies by making sure
my exam results were second to none. I left school with 3 ‘A’ levels, all ‘A’
grades in Maths, English and Geography, meeting the entry requirements of the
London School of Economics.

University was
a whole new ball game. Although I felt quite shy and wary for the first month
or two, I managed to make some genuine friends and one in particular, Roberta,
known to her friends as Bobbie, became my first ever close friend. We worked
hard, played hard, smoked some weed (nothing worse than that though) and life
was good. Again I never had to go short of money and I didn’t need any student
loans - Dad paid for everything.

Bobbie was
always so tired. She worked in a bar three or four nights a week to help pay
her way through Uni. I was amazed at how she always managed to get to her
lectures on time. Her Mum would come down every couple of months to visit,
staying in a hotel just around the corner from Bobbie’s student flat which she
shared with two others. She (Bobbie) hadn’t seen her Dad in eight years. Shame
really, he would have been so proud of her. She was pretty, well-mannered, very
amiable and extremely intelligent. Her degree was just a formality. Yes! I
loved Bobbie to bits. She was the first female who had ever liked me and this
was a big thrill for me – being liked instead of tolerated. We had so much in
common - our love of music, men, visiting the City’s art galleries, fashion and
generally having good time.

It was during
my second year at Uni that I met and fell in love. I wasn’t out with Bobbie that
particular night as she was working at the bar as usual. I was with some other
friends who were taking the same degree course in Accountancy and Economics. We
had decided to try out a new wine bar that had recently opened not too far from
the main university building and the student flats. We had already downed a
bottle of vodka between us before leaving my flat and were just getting our
night into full swing when a gang of four or five dons walked in, ordered their
drinks then came straight to our table and made themselves at home. Anna, Beth
and Jennifer (my friends), mouths gaping in surprise at suddenly being
surrounded by so much testosterone, were soon lapping up the attention of the
guys. One guy, having made a beeline for the vacant seat beside me, was giving
me his full attention and soon seemed oblivious to the fact that his friends
and mine were still at the same table as us. Other than telling me his name was
Gavin, he seemed more interested in finding out all there was to find out about
me.

We chatted
solidly for two hours, except for when he went to the bar to replenish our
drinks. He was fair haired, had the deepest blue eyes and had a look of the
fabulous rock legend, Mr Jon Bon Jovi. By 1am I was smitten. He was polite,
well-mannered, interesting and more importantly – he was interested in me. Not
my looks or my body, just me. In all this time I hadn’t even noticed that all
of the girls had partnered up with Gavin’s mates and discreetly disappeared, I
had been so wrapped up in my new drinking mate. He walked me the short distance
to my flat at about 3am. We made a date for the following Saturday, he pecked
me quickly on the lips and was gone. I was impressed - a man who wasn’t out to
get laid.

We met at
10.30am just outside the Natural History Museum that next week. We had both
visited the Museum previously, but the date was more about us spending some
time together, rather than further educating ourselves in historical knowledge.
It was a very pleasant few hours, and spent in such awesome surroundings. We
went on to Covent Garden to some quiet little restaurant where the prices were
reasonable compared with many of the others in the vicinity. We decided whilst
eating that we would return to ‘our’ wine bar. What a perfect day it turned out
to be. By midnight I was snuggling in my bed expecting to read, but finding
myself thinking more and more about Gavin. He had walked me home and we had
kissed very passionately for five or ten minutes, before he bade me goodnight
and went on his way. He was the perfect gentleman.

Some two to
three weeks later, and after more than a few boozy late nights with our
friends, we decided it was time for a quiet night in. As I lived alone, my flat
was the better option, whereas he would have had to bribe his lodgers to go out
and even then it was not guaranteed. We had no booze, no weed, just a KFC
bargain bucket, a bottle of diet coke and a DVD. We loaded the DVD but it ended
up playing to itself as we chatted about our degree courses, our parents, our
schools, and our tastes in music.

Taking his cue
with the subject of music cropping up, Gavin switched off the TV and searched
through my CD collection, choosing an Aerosmith album. We listened, snuggled up
and we kissed (lots) and it was the most natural thing in the world when we
slowly undressed each other and indulged in the most meaningful and deliciously
exciting foreplay I had ever experienced. Each move on his part was
tantalising, barely touching my skin, and his fingers were so gentle in their
probing, his tongue teased my nipples until they stood aroused and hard. I
shuddered excitedly in anticipation and my stomach ached for him. He drank in
every minor detail of my body and whilst doing so he took my hand in his and
guided it onto his impressive piece of manhood. I gently rubbed it up and down,
ever so slowly and he gasped in pleasure, savouring every moment until the time
felt right. I massaged his cock and he fondled my clit and gently probed into
my vagina, pushing further and further in. The moment arrived sooner rather
than later as we moved together onto the floor, not wanting to lose our
connection and with his hands cupping my face. His tool needed no further
guidance and it was my turn to gasp as he eagerly shoved his cock inside me. It
felt like heaven. His thrusts were gentle, slow and loving. He awakened all my
senses, and that feeling of being aglow was amazing. I was holding myself back,
not wanting to let go too soon. I wanted our first moment to last forever. He
was so considerate in his moves, watching my face expectantly all the time –
discovering what pleasured me the most and revelling in his discoveries. When
he sensed that I could hold back no longer, his thrusting became faster, for
minutes only, and we climaxed together, explosively - our juices fusing for the
first time. Shuddering in each others arms with the intensity of the moment, I
cried. I had just experienced what it was like to be made love to. I told Gavin
I was in love with him and I was deliriously happy when he expressed his love
for me also. We made love three times during the course of the night.

Time moved
forward at a pace I struggled to keep up with - life was like a dream. We were
out socialising quite a lot with our friends and Bobbie and her new boyfriend
Phil were also included in that circle. I was quite surprised that I could ever
get any work done – I was always tired and hung-over. I was also too wrapped up
in Gavin and our love-making and our life together. I had friends, a best
friend, and the best boyfriend I ever had, who I truly loved. He made love to
me, and I loved being made love to. This was not the emotionless fucking or
shagging I’d had experience of in my past. My heart melted each time I saw him,
and I wanted to make love constantly. I even fell in love with saying the words
‘making love.’ I gave Gavin a key to my flat, and gradually he stayed more and
more nights per week until he was living with me permanently.

During my third
year, my bubble of happiness was popped one day when I received a very upsetting
call from Mum - Dad had been rushed into hospital with a suspected heart
attack. I left a message for Gavin back at the flat after leaving Uni and
hurriedly threw a few clothes into an overnight bag. Shooting off in my car to
see Dad in Intensive Care at their local hospital, my journey was filled with
dread. I was afraid for him – and myself. How would I ever cope without my
wonderful Dad, I loved him so much and he was far too young to die. I was also
worried for Mum and wondered how she would cope without him if he died. The
tears made it difficult for me to drive. I couldn’t concentrate and I couldn’t
get there fast enough. My breakfast was threatening to make a re-appearance – I
felt so physically sick. I was frightened in case I was too late.

By the time I
reached the hospital the diagnosis had already been made. It had been confirmed
that Dad had indeed suffered a minor heart attack but he was going to be okay.
It hurt to see Mum so distraught, and wrapping my arms around her we comforted
each other as we waited in the family room to be told when we could go in to
see him. He looked reasonable (but otherwise very exhausted,) considering the
ordeal he had been through, and he was still hooked to the ECG machine. He was
pleased to see me there with Mum, and he even joked that he was pleased to
still
be seeing Mum as he had thought his time was well and truly up.

Bobbie called
me later that evening to see if Dad was doing okay and asked how Mum and I were
coping. I assured her that Mum and I were both doing alright and Dad was making
good progress. She went on to tell me that she had parted from Phil, her latest
in a long line of suitors, as well some other trivial bits of news from Uni.
She didn’t sound as if she needed any consoling about her break-up with Phil,
so I said I would see her and Gavin maybe in a week’s time and we said our
goodbyes. Gavin rang me at bedtime to say he was missing me and I cried when I
finally put the phone down. I ached to be with him but my parents were my
priority –they had to be.

Three days
later Dad was discharged from hospital care and told that he must take things a
lot easier than he had been doing of late. It was nice to have him back at home
and Mum fussed around him endlessly. I ended up staying with them for another five
days and I continued to call Gavin each night, missing him more with each day
that passed. Leaving Mum at home to look after Dad, I went out for a food shop
for them, and stocked up with fresh supplies and enough freezer things to last
for at least a month. Once I was happier to see Dad with much more colour back
in his face and feeling so much better, I set off back to Gavin, my flat and
Uni.