Smut & Filth. Chapter seven.

"A Stable Relationship".

She stepped through the door and into a little courtyard. Bins and crates filled with empty bottles lined the wall to her left and a cat, lazing in the midday spring sunshine atop an old, rusting chest freezer, eyed her suspiciously as she made her way into the sunlight.

He was nowhere to be seen.

An outbuilding, looking like it could collapse at any moment, stood across the courtyard from her. She heard the sound of laughter from the other side of the door through which she’d just passed and, fearing discovery in what was quite plainly a private area, she headed for the ramshackle door of the tumbledown building.

The door stood a few inches ajar and was stuck fast at the bottom, but there was sufficient give in its rotten, swollen timbers for her to be able to squeeze through.

Inside was dark and she whispered his name into the gloom whilst taking a few tentative steps into the gloom. Slowly, as her pupils dilated to drink in more of the scarce light, she began to see shapes here and there. A large, wooden wheel from an old cart stood against one wall, garden tools leaning against it. A rickety staircase lead up to a hay loft, long devoid of hay. Beneath the loft were two stalls where once, in days gone by, horses would be stabled. In the middle of the floor an anvil stood atop a plinth and, beneath a window now blocked with the timber from a pallet, a large, heavy work bench. The sensation of the cat from the courtyard rubbing her ankles as it wove between her legs, its curiosity causing it to follow her, startled her and made her jump.

“Bloody cat,” She giggled in the darkness as she realised what had happened.

Suddenly, from behind, a hand slipped around in front of her, fingers covering her mouth as an arm slipped around her waist and held her tightly. A voice in her ear whispered, “Shhhh”.

For the briefest of moments she panicked, then that familiar smell filled her nostrils. The scent from the bottle in his bathroom. His scent.

The hand that had silenced her slipped down, the fingers now wrapping around her throat and gently squeezing. He guided her forward, toward the bench, as she feigned resistance.

He took her wrists and placed them behind her back before coiling something around them. She recognised the feel of the leather she’d earlier beaten him with and the memory quickened her heartbeat.

Then his hands were all over her. Still unseen and standing behind her he reached around and unfastened the buttons on the blouse she wore before pulling at her bra roughly and exposing her breasts to the dusty atmosphere. He squeezed them, hard, kneading them with his strong hands. He found her nipples, long since erect, and pulled at them as he sank his teeth into the soft flesh of her neck. Images of old vampire movies flashed before her mind’s eye and she gasped.

He pushed her forward, bending her over the bench, and pulled her skirt up to expose her intimate nakedness. She heard him gasp as his fingers probed her and she held her breath.

“Not a sound.” His voice low and deep, “not one fucking sound.”

But a sound that was impossible to prevent escaped her, a gasp that was almost a squeak, and she felt the sting as he spanked her hard. Unseen in the darkness, she smiled and bit her lip.

He was already ready and his hard, hot erection slipped easily and quickly inside her, filling her all the way up. Her eyes wide she whimpered, though this time she wasn’t punished.

One of his hands was on her back, at the base of her neck, and another on her cold buttock, his nails digging into her as he pinned her to the bench and began to slide in and out of her hot, wet hole. He fucked her roughly and she pushed back hard, lost in the fantasy.

She was close, she could feel her budding orgasm building inside her when she felt him collapse against her back. Again, that hand across her mouth, though this time gripping tighter, the need to silence her real.

“Shhh.” He hissed directly into her ear before biting her lobe. She felt his length inside her, as deep as he could be, and could feel it throbbing, indicating he too was now close.

A door slammed, the door through which she’d exited the bar, and bottles rattled in a crate as it was placed on top of the others that stood by the bins. She held her breath as he kissed her neck.

There came the sound of a match being struck as whoever it was, probably the proprietor, lit a cigarette. He must be taking a break, she thought. The game was up.

She felt him drawing his length slowly and smoothly from within her and she waited for the moment he’d withdraw completely but, as she felt him almost free of her, he slid back inside her every bit as slowly and smoothly. He maintained a steady rhythm, each backward stroke almost bringing him out of her and each forward filling her completely. Neither made a sound as, outside, the smoker spoke into a cell phone, occasionally laughing while standing just a few metres from where they silently fucked.

She began to climax and fought against it for fear of exposing their tryst but it was no good, she’d passed the point of no return.

She forced open her mouth and sank her teeth into the soft flesh of his hand, hearing him whimper quietly behind her. She bit down as the waves crashed through her body and managed to stifle her screams as, behind her, a combination of pain and pleasure brought about his orgasm. The muscles within her clamped tightly on his bone hard cock as he began to pump his seed deep inside her. Though she couldn’t see it, she knew the look he would be wearing on his face, a look of pleasure so intense it appeared as anger, a look she’d become rather fond of over the last day or so, and as her orgasm subsided she pushed back one last time.

The action sent a glass jar that had once held jam but that now held screws toppling from the bench and onto the floor. The noise would surely attract the attention of the smoking proprietor outside.

 Startled by the noise the cat, that had been sitting and preening itself as it watched the fornicating couple, made a dash for the door, slipping through the gap quickly and easily.

“Chat stupide, allez, partez!” The voice of the proprietor came to them on the dusty air, “Casse-toi!”

The sound of a cigarette being ground out underfoot and the creaking and slamming of the door to the bar followed. At last they dared breath, and their breath bore laughter.

He took the belt from her wrists and turned her to face him, kissing her hard as he held her close, gripping her upper arms and lifting her onto tip toes. She felt his softening shaft against her and his warm juices between her thighs.

Then, without a word, he turned and headed toward the door.

“Hurry up,” he called, looking back as he was half way through the gap, “or the ice in your gin’ll be melted.”

Continue to chapter eight.