Laura Undone

"Sorry," he growled. "I just couldn't resist it. You've got a great pair of legs, I could photograph them all afternoon. By the way, a woman as sexy as you shouldn't wear pantyhose. You would be better off with suspenders or those stay up stockings."

"Will you stop making personal remarks and get on with this blasted photograph? Then I can get out of here with what I came for."

Well he got me to lift my dress up again, higher than I really wanted to, but then he was the sort of persuasive little rascal that women like me should keep well away from. To my shame, I even found myself flirting with him and enjoying having his lustful attention focused on my legs.

He took his time taking the damn photograph; he was too busy leering at me and making seductive comments. Finally, he took the snap and, almost reluctantly, I dropped my skirt back down. Then, he handed over the photograph I had come for and I was able to leave in triumph. As I walked back home, I was quite pleased with myself. I had got back the damaging photo and had averted a possible blackmail attempt. But then, as I neared my house I started to worry about the one I'd let him take. I stopped and blushed as I realised that he had taken it in his lounge. If anyone saw it, how would I explain being there and voluntarily lifting my skirt for him? It was a new worry; maybe my visit hadn't been such a triumphant success after all.

Well you can imagine my distress, when a few days later, I received in the post a print of the photo I had been worrying about. It was, as I feared, rather more revealing than I would have wished. First of all, I was showing far too much leg (there was even a glimpse of white panties showing) and secondly it had obviously been taken in Creasey's house. And to make me worry even more, there was another photo of me standing in front of my mirror. Where the hell had that come from? I was shocked and appalled. Then I saw the note.

"I thought you would like to see the result of our little photo session. It's come out rather well don't you think? You have a wonderful pair of legs and I think this shows them off perfectly. By the way, sorry, I rather misled you about the one you took away. There was more than one copy, you see, but then again, you didn't ask, did you? Now I have two different ones to flash around the golf club and your PTA meetings. If you want to discuss this come and see me on Friday at about 11 p.m.

Love Tommy.

I was furious and angry and in a foul mood for the rest of the day. My attempts to solve a problem had resulted in making it worse. The man had tricked me and now I didn't know what to do. I thought about telling it all to my husband, unpleasant as that prospect would undoubtedly be. But then, I had promised Kevin that I wouldn't tell on him and I didn't want to go back on my word. Also, my pride was wounded. How could a well-educated 39 year old married woman let a man like that run rings round her?

Well I fretted and fumed that day and lay awake tossing and turning at my dilemma. What should I do? How was I going to put things right? In the end, I resolved to go and see him and be quite firm. This photograph business had to stop as well as his unhealthy obsession with me.

The next morning, I fussed around until I eventually decided what to wear. I sensed that a pair of jeans might cool his ardour a bit and at least get him to stop looking at my legs. But, as I looked at myself in the mirror I wasn't happy and changed my mind. Eventually, goodness knows why, I put on another short skirt, knowing that was exactly how he would want me to dress. And as there was a bit of a drizzle outside, I slipped on my three quarter length black rain coat and made my way up the street in time for my appointment.

When he opened the door to me, I was already worked up and feeling badly done to. He let me in without a word before holding up his hands in an admission of guilt.

"I have been rotten to you, I know," he began, "please accept my apologies, but I was desperate to see you again."

As he ushered me into his lounge, I noticed that there had been a substantial clear up operation recently. It even looked clean and tidy. And there on his coffee table stood a nice bottle of white wine and two glasses. I was about to refuse, but then remembered his jibe about me being a goody two shoes. So I thought, why the hell not, maybe I should try a different approach, it might work better.

So I accepted a large glass of white wine, suitably chilled. It was a Riesling, my favourite drink. It was then that he dropped his bombshell.

"I have the whole tape," you know.

"What!" I spluttered.

"Didn't your son tell you? He sold me the complete thing. You didn't honestly believe that I paid £30 for one photograph did you? There's about 20 minutes of you parading in front of your mirror. And eventually, you take everything off...everything," he emphasised.

"And what's worse," he sniggered, "is that after a while you lovingly start to stroke your precious little pussy. The one you used to let me touch occasionally, when we were courting."

"Yes...It's truly delightful, I can assure you...It's all there on that tape," he smirked.

I must have gone white with shock. Then as that slowly wore off, a deep red blush worked its way up from my neck. I grabbed the re-filled glass of wine and downed it quickly, as my head swam with the implications of what he had just told me.

"I don't believe you," I gasped when I eventually found the ability to speak again.

"Don't you? Well I can play it for you if you like. My edited version lasts about 10 minutes as I've just kept the best bits. It's a must see, I think."

Then he set it up and it started playing. Another bottle of wine was produced and I sipped from my glass as I nervously watched the film unfold. First it was just showing an empty bedroom, my bedroom. Then I came in and started to undress. My skirt came off first, then my panties and I could see the bit where the frame had been stopped and a photo taken. After that, I took off my blouse and unclasped my bra. A few moments later, I was standing naked in front of the mirror, admiring my figure. Then, sitting there in Creasey's lounge I nearly died with shame as I saw myself standing there, a silly little smile on my face and fondling my vagina. I was numb with shock. Unfortunately, this part went on a bit longer than was decent. I closed my eyes and nearly died with embarrassment.

"Not bad is it?" grinned Creasey, as the film wound to a close. "To be fair to your young lad though I don't think he realised what was on it when he sold it to me. I asked him to get me a tape of you, but, I never expected anything like this. It's the best £30 I ever spent, I can tell you that. Thank God he's hooked on those video games. And, I've watched it so many times now I've nearly worn it out. I can take as many photographs from that as I want."

My heart sank when I heard him say this. Now I really had problems. Not the least of which was that my son hadn't told me the whole truth about this business. Despite what Creasey had said, the chances were that he did know exactly what was on that video. And maybe he also has his own copy? I shuddered at the thought. My own son watching me play with my pussy.

I downed another drink as the full implications of that damaging recording sank in. As it was, I felt light headed with the shock I had received. The alcohol just made it worse. And, suddenly, I felt so weak and helpless as he started to go on and on about showing it to people at the Golf club, the PTA and all my friends and neighbours. Then he produced a blow up photo of me standing in his lounge and showing legs right up to my panties. It was the final straw; I just broke down and cried.

But crying never solved anything and when I stopped, he was there ready to pick up the pieces. He had me over a barrel and I knew it. That's when he gave me the ultimatum; do exactly what he told me to do or copies of everything would be winging their way to certain people as soon as he could manage it.

What was I to do? I was lost and helpless. I just couldn't think straight. He had me exactly where he wanted me. One more drink and I started on a downward path from which there was no way back.

He came over and put his arms around me. "Come on, it's not so bad. You'll just have to be nice to me from now on, won't you?" Then his hand slipped under my skirt onto my nylons.

"Tommy, don't, please," I whimpered, but, his hand just kept going higher.

"Oh, I see, you've taken my advice about getting rid of pantyhose," he chuckled, "that's great."

That started me blushing again and I was quivering like a school girl as his hand smoothed over my bare thigh. It brought out the excitement I had felt all those years ago.

"Let's get this skirt off" he whispered seductively "and start up where we left off as teenagers."

"Tommy, NO," I muttered frantically, but, he had already unzipped me and the skirt flopped down around my ankles.

He knelt down and started to worship my long legs as I stood there, helplessly, at his mercy.

He came in close and started to feel me up. This time, I was unable to stop him. His hands roamed freely over my thighs and bum until he greedily tugged down my blue lace panties. "It's taken me 20 years" he drooled "but finally I've got these off you."

It was strange, but my mind flashed back to those nights, years ago, in the back seat of his Dad's old car, when we used to wrestle and argue about how far I should let him ago. That was before Mummy had made me finish with him.

Now I had him sniffing, kissing and licking my vagina, making up for lost time. "Oh how I've dreamed of doing this," he drooled, "ever since I got my hands on that tape. Now I'm going to have you Laura, you belong to me again."

I shuddered when he said this and gasped with shock when his fingers started to play with my vagina. It was then that I should have broken away and reminded him that I was married. I should have called his bluff about the tape and photographs and told him to go to hell, but I didn't...

I must have stumbled backwards as he continued to ravage me, because, he suddenly grabbed my wrist and started to pull me with him upstairs. That's when I passed the point of no return. My downfall was upon me.

On the way up, he couldn't keep his hands off my ass as he muttered about all the filthy things he was going to do to me. He locked the bedroom door behind us and I was doomed. In no time at all he had me sprawled out, horizontal and naked on the bed with my arms spread back over my head and my wrists tied to the bedhead. Then the bastard set up his own camcorder to record my woeful surrender to his lust. I knew then that he owned me body and soul. My double life of shame and degradation had begun.

He lost no time in consummating my subjugation to him. His cock was soon out of his trousers and being waved meaningfully across my face. I had seen it before, of course, even held it in those exciting petting sessions we had had as 18 year olds. It was big, hard and slightly curved with a bulbous purple head. I had never forgotten it.

"Take it" he ordered and I almost wept as I was forced to open my mouth wide to accommodate it. It was something my husband had never required me to do, but, I knew about fellatio because Creasey had told me how to do it on that memorable first time in our youth.

Now, once again, he was giving me detailed instruction as to how suck and lick his erect manhood. My hands were untied for this very purpose. I did it slowly and competently, right up to the time it shuddered and spurted his spunk into my mouth and throat. Then he made me swallow every last drop. He was making me take up where we had left off all those years ago and I was dutifully submitting to what he wanted.

After that, he spent a lot of time playing with my pussy. It seemed to fascinate him. His fingers were back where they once had been, probing and plunging for evermore, until, like long ago he had me moaning and begging for mercy. It was then and only then that he manoeuvred his stiff manhood inside my wet pussy, deeper and deeper, until he was in to the hilt. "Nailed you at last, you stuck up bitch" he growled. Then he was away, fucking me with a raw intensity that took my breath away as he bounced my ass up and down on the mattress.

The fucking just went on and on, his new found hardness relentless in its piston like ravaging of my defenceless vagina. "Tommy, Tommy," I gasped as he rocked me to my very soul, reclaiming what he said was rightfully his. When at last he had finished with me, I started to sob. That's when he misread my emotions and grabbed me by the hair. "Get used to it Laura," he growled, "there's going to be lots more sex between us, believe me. I'm going to get plenty of what I should have got years ago."

Once started down that road, there was no going back. I go there about twice a week now and Tommy fucks the daylights out of me. I know that sounds crude, but, it's the truth. At least he has the grace to wear a condom each and every time. It's been going on now for six weeks and more and there is no sign of it stopping. He has gradually broken down every inhibition and rule on acceptable sexual behaviour I have grown up with.

On the other hand, I now I have a new found sexual confidence and now think about sex and all its delicious options a lot more than I used to. I am also unafraid now to show off my body." Slowly, my lover has turned me from a faithful, married middle class housewife into a cheating, smouldering, sex slut.

Looking back, I realise I have paid a heavy price for my son's "indiscretion." A son that has become rather brazen as of late, with his lack of respect and a disregard for my privacy. He questions my authority over him, constantly answers back and now that he's getting older I have to be wary of his spying eyes when taking a shower or getting dressed. I see it in the way he LOOKS at me. A silent message there if ever there was one.

So far, I have not said anything more to him about that revealing video of me which I fear is a matter still unfinished between us. My instincts tell me that one way or another it will all come to a head soon.

So far my husband hasn't found out that I am cheating on him with my ex-boyfriend even though our married sex life has diminished significantly. It's a double life of which I am not especially proud. On one hand, I have my posh house, rich husband and family; and, on the other, an exciting sex life with a low life bad boy who I have never quite got out of my system. Hopefully, I will never have to choose between them, as quite frankly, I would not know what to do.

THE END