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Command performance (27 November 2007)

By the time another fifteen minutes had passed with no more sign of life, I felt that some action was necessary. I still had things to do. But what about Connie? I could hardly leave her back at the college in a post-orgasmic trance and reeking of sex; nor for the same reason could I put her on a train for her home on the other side of London. Somewhere she had to be cleaned up and made presentable. I could think of nothing for it but to take her back to my place; with any luck by the time we got there she might be taking a bit more notice.

I explained this to her. She did not reply, as such, but at intervals she emitted her slight grunt – "huh" – and I took this for consent.

Halfway home she showed her first sign of recovery, suddenly announcing quietly but clearly, "Oh ... my ... god."

"Welcome back," I replied. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, wow! Jeez-us fucking Christ!" was the best she could manage. I left it at that for a while.

As we entered my home suburb she seemed to come out of it a bit. "Oh, Mr Walker," she began.

This odd formality made me smile. "Don't you think you should call me James?"

She giggled. "Yes. Thank you, James. Thank you for everything. To think we've worked together all this time and I never knew! Where, where, did you learn to shag like that?"

"Well," I replied sort-of truthfully, "it's just a gift."

"A gift? You're telling me! Mr Walker – sorry, James – I know a lot of people think I'm too free and easy and I admit I've had my share of boyfriends but never, never ever, have I had it like that! The second time you made me come ... oooh!" She wriggled with pleasure at the memory. "It just kept washing over me in waves! I thought it would never end." She tapped the side of her head. "My ears are still ringing," she smiled.

We had just turned into my home street. "My house is just down here," I told her. "Do you think you're all right to walk?"

I had meant this as friendly sarcasm but she took it literally. "I think so," she replied, experimentally flexing her legs. But when I had parked in my driveway and politely opened the passenger door for her, she levered herself halfway up only to lose her balance and fall back in the seat giggling. I hastened to help and supported her to the house and let her in. I was so busy coping with Connie that I entirely failed to see Kylie at the bedroom window next door following our every move.

I led Connie to the bathroom and helped her undress. Gobbets of spunk and pussy juice were oozing down her inner thighs. Her co-ordination was getting back to normal by now and she assured me that she would be fine in the shower so I left her to it while I went downstairs for the inevitable English stand-by in testing times, a nice hot cuppa.

I was relaxing on the settee sipping my tea when Connie reappeared, looking much refreshed after a good shower and more her usual blithe, flirtatious self. But that was not the only thing I noticed about her.

"I had assumed," I said as calmly as I could, "that you would get dressed before coming downstairs."

"I was going to," she replied, standing before me stark naked from head to toe and evidently relishing the situation, "but there was something I thought you'd wanna see first. Just stay sitting right where you are."

And with that she took a couple of steps towards me so that her neatly trimmed pussy was six inches in front of my nose. Her nakedness emphasised even more the contrast between the relatively slight build of her upper body and the vast girth of her thighs, each of which must have been easily as thick as her waist. The lower part of her trunk seemed to be squeezed into insignificance between those mighty limbs.

Then she turned round so that the awesome hemispheres of her buttocks hovered inches before me. For some moments she simply stood there, allowing me my first opportunity for a really close examination. They were astonishing. They spread almost horizontally from her relatively narrow waist; in fact there was a distinct fold where the top of each buttock met the base of the back, something I had never seen or heard of before.

I had thought, when I sat down with my tea, that I was well and truly shagged out, for the next few hours anyway. But now, my cock was begging to differ. I felt it swelling and sensed its demands. I wished I had suggested a repeat of our session in the car before she went in the shower, but it was too late now.

And then Connie put the tin lid on it with a repeat of the ass-dance, this time at very close quarters and with none of that annoying clothing in the way. She also took much longer over it, demonstrating unbelievable control of the buttock muscles. With a jiggle of the hips she sent waves of flesh undulating up and down and from side to side; throw in a quick twist of the pelvis too and both cheeks were projected upwards so dramatically that normal gravity seemed to have been suspended for a moment. Not only could she clench her buttocks together so sharply that the gap between them closed with a loud smack that sent ripples of flesh radiating from the centre; she could force her cheeks apart (purely by muscle control, no hands) to reveal a beautifully clean and strangely receptive-looking rectal opening, which she then proceeded to tense and relax.

It was the sight of Connie's ringpiece clenching and unclenching that did it for me. I grabbed that slim waist and pulled her down on the settee next to me. Nothing loth, she gave a slight cry of surprise but instantly recovered to help me rip off my clothing. I thought of attacking her ass – anal sex had never seemed at all attractive to me until that moment – but I decided to stick to what I knew and we fucked there and then in the front room. It was, I think, a less rushed and slightly less animalistic effort than in the car, and certainly more comfortable. But the end result was the same; Connie came twice, once near the beginning and again, massively, when I filled her wet cunt with sticky cum.

When I had got my breath back I looked at my handiwork. There she was, blissed out beyond words, gazing into space with wide blank eyes and with a dopy smile on her face. Nothing if not a practical man, I slid a magazine under her to stop any cum from oozing onto the settee and got on with making a few necessary calls while she recovered to the point where I could get her in the shower again. I had given up all idea of going to Uncle Albert's; my concern now was to get Connie safely on her way before Wendy came home.

After half an hour she had reached the "oh-my-god-wow" stage at which point, fearful of waiting any longer, I half-led and half-carried her to the shower and cleaned her up. This time, taking no chances, I got her dressed myself. I did not trust her to find her way home by public transport so I called her a mini-cab.

While we waited in the hall Connie, slowly coming back to normal by now, again sang my sexual praises. "I just can't believe it, James. It's not just the greatest sex of my life – it's simply far and away the greatest sex of my life! It's better than any sex I've ever heard of. That first orgasm in the car was fantastic; it just blasted at me out of nowhere and blew me away. But the second was – well, I don't know how I can describe it – and we've just carried on from there.

"Look, James precious," she went on, suddenly more serious, "I can't leave it here. How can I? What am I going to do? I can't just go quietly back home to Tommy [this was the "gorgeous, sexy" boyfriend] as if nothing had happened. I need you."

I had been afraid of this. "Connie," I said sternly, "I'm a married man. You've always known that."

"I know, I know," she replied. "But I couldn't help myself. I don't know why it happened but it did. I've always liked you but when we were talking on Wednesday, I suddenly realised I wanted you and needed you more than anything."

"So that's why you gave me the buttock dance?"

"Well, that was just on impulse. I wasn't sure you'd even noticed me – sexually I mean – so I thought it would get your attention. All my boyfriends have liked it when I've flexed my ass like that."

"I'm not surprised," I said. "It's quite a party piece. But you didn't have to do that to make me fancy you; I've done that since the first moment I saw you."

"Really?" she asked delightedly. "I never thought you, er ... and I didn't, um ...". She paused. "Or maybe I did, without realising it, because it hit me right between the eyes on Wednesday. Yes," she said, more to herself than me, "I think I must have been working up to it."

"Isn't rationalisation," I said (but not aloud), "a wonderful thing?"

"And since Wednesday," she resumed, "I haven't been able to think of anything else. I thought it would wear off but instead it just got stronger and stronger and by this morning it was a straight choice between calling you and going out of my mind."

Well, I thought, that is as handy a girl's-eye description as I could have hoped for of the effects of indirect exposure to FUCK. But I had to try to dampen her enthusiasm somehow.

"Connie, it was unbelievable for me too, but we can't turn our lives upside-down just for great sex."

"Oh, but James, don't say that!" She looked distressed. "It's not just the sex; it's you. You're the kindest, finest, loveliest man I could ever dream of. All I want is to help you and make you happy. I'd do anything for you, anything. Even if what you want me to do is ... is ..." She was beginning to well up now. She could not bring herself to finish the sentence, but then she made a visible effort to pull herself together and, looking straight at me and with tears streaming down her face, she blurted out, "Even if you wanted me to go away for ever and never see you again I'd do it; it would break my heart but I'd do it. But no matter what I'd still be yours, James; while there's breath left in me I'll always be yours."

I was aghast. I looked at her helplessly trying to think of something, anything, to say in reply. The silence was broken by a knock at the door. "Cab, mister?" came a voice.

I opened the front door a crack and told the man, "Two minutes."

I embraced her. "Listen, Connie, precious," I said, "you're a wonderful girl and of course I don't want to send you away for ever or anything like that." Her sobs stopped as she heard these words and an overwhelming feeling of relief seemed to flood through her body. "But," I went on, "I want you to go home to Tommy now. You'll see me again when I get back to the office on Tuesday, but not before. And you mustn't tell anyone about this. Do you understand?" I felt her nod. "Will you do that for me?" She nodded again. Releasing the embrace, I reached for my handkerchief and dried her eyes. "Good. Now kiss me goodbye."

She threw her arms around me and kissed me passionately. As we pulled apart she murmured, "You're so wonderful." And off she went, leaving me feeling emotionally shattered.

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