INDRA

Hi, this is Indra!” She stifled a yawn as she answered the phone on the second ring. Another two hours of this chatline shit before she could log off. She wished she’d paid more attention to the teachers in the classroom and less to the boys in the playground—if she had spent more time studying and less time fucking she would have probably managed to pass more than three GCSEs and would now have a decent job.

“Hi, Indra, this is Paul.”

“Hi, Paul, you have a very sexy voice. Where are you from?”

“I’m from France,” he responded with a strong British-Asian accent.

She was tempted to ask him something in French, since it was one of the three subjects she’d managed to pass at GCSE, but one more complaint and she would be fired. So she played along, “Tell me about yourself, Paul. Tell me what you look like so I can picture you as you’re fucking me.”

“I am 6’5”. I have blue eyes and blond hair. I have a thick 8” cock and I am going to fuck you hard,” he responded, sounding 5’6”, dark-eyed and bald, with a cock no bigger than her little finger.

“You will rip my little pussy with that big, hard cock!” she exclaimed, holding two fingers of her left hand in the classic ‘up yours’ position.

“I want your pussy to bleed, and when I am done I will fuck your asshole as well!”

“No! I have never had a cock in my ass before. Will it hurt?”

“You won’t be able to sit on your ass for weeks!”

The phone was disconnected in her ear.

Wanker!

It rang three minutes later. She jerked awake and yawned. “Hi, this is Indra!”

“Hi sweetheart, this is Andrew.” A smooth, cultured voice caressed her ear. “Tell me what you look like.”

“I’m a sexy Black woman. I’m 5’9”, I have 34DD breasts, a 24” waist and 34” hips,” she lied. Well, almost. She was sexy. She was half-Black, half-Indian, 5’7”, had 34C breasts, a 26” waist and 40” hips. She had inherited her height, her smouldering eyes and her full lips from her handsome Black father and her dark skin, small nose and thick, almost straight hair from her pretty Indian mother.

“How old are you, my angel?”

“I’m 22 and definitely not an angel!”

“How naughty are you?”

“Very naughty.” She loved nasty callers. It was too much of an effort to speak to the ones who called looking for romance—she didn’t have a romantic bone in her body.

“I’ll have to punish you for being naughty.”

“Please punish me hard.”

“Okay, take off your knickers,” he commanded. “I am going to push some fingers into your pussy.”

“I just loved to be finger-fucked!” she gushed.

“How many fingers can you take?”

“All of them.”

“Can you take a fist?”

“I have never tried a fist,” she replied honestly, thinking it was better to stick to the truth in case the fucker called her back.

“I am going to fist-fuck you for being a bad girl. Spread your legs.”

“They are wide open, Andrew babes.”

“Good girl. You are so wet I quickly get all four of my fingers inside you, going deeper and deeper each time. Can you feel them?”

“Yes, your fingers are so big,” she moaned. “I don’t think I can take your whole hand.”

“You have been naughty. I have to punish you.”

“Can’t I just suck your cock instead?” She loved to mess with their fantasies.

“No! I decide your punishment. For your impertinence I force my hand deeper inside your little pussy.”

“Ouch! You’re hurting me. Please stop, I promise to be good next time.”

“No, I am going to fist your pussy tonight. Stop struggling!”

“Andrew, my poor pussy is hurting. You are tearing it apart with your big, hard hand.” She gave a few realistic moans for good measure. “But I am starting to like it. Fuck me, babes. Drive your hand right up my tight pussy.”

“Hold still, I’m making a fist.”

“Oh no! Your fist will kill me!”

“You’ve been naughty so I’m punishing you accordingly.”

Accordingly? He was beginning to sound more and more like he was no ordinary punter—beginning to sound like he had a bit of dough.

“Okay, Paul darling, do whatever you want with me.”

Shit! He was Andrew; Paul was the previous wanker!

“Fuck me with your fist, Andrew. I’ve been so very bad.”

“I am thrusting it in and out of your wet pussy. You like that, you naughty girl?”

“Yes, babes, I can feel your fist stretching my tight pussy to the limit. It feels so good.”

“I am really ramming my fist into your pussy now. Faster and faster.” She heard him wanking himself, faster and faster.

“Yes, babes, faster and faster! Faster and faster!” she chanted and heard him groan.

She gave him a few minutes to catch himself before she breathed, “Andrew, you punished me so very well. You are the best, babes.”

“Indra, I enjoyed fisting your tight pussy. What time are you online tomorrow?”

“Very late. I like to spend the day playing with myself and being naughty, so at night I can be punished.”

“Okay, darling, I’ll call you at midnight.”

“Bye, babes.” She made a kissing sound and Andrew disconnected the call.

She logged off and spread her legs. She didn’t know what it was about fist-fucking that always turned her on. None of the other fantasies made her pussy wet but as soon as someone started talking about fucking her with a fist, her pussy went mad. She picked up her Rampant Rabbit and switched him on. Two minutes later she was arching off the bed, the Rabbit rampaging inside her clenching pussy as she came. She switched him off but left him buried as she logged back on. She pushed him in and out as she waited for her next call.

The phone rang almost immediately.

“You are speaking to Indra.”

“What are you wearing?”

No fucking hello, how are you? Rude bastard!

“All I’m wearing is a bunny inside my pussy.”

The line went dead.

Tosser!

The phone rang again.

“Hi, this is Indra!” The effort to be perky almost killed her.

“The name’s Bernard and I like to fuck young girls’ tight assholes.”

“I am so glad because I have been dying for a man to fuck my asshole.”

“You have never been fucked in the ass before?”

“No, my boyfriend couldn’t get his cock inside my asshole because it is too tight, so he gave up and fucked my pussy instead.”

“Your boyfriend is a jackass! How big is his cock?”

“He has a medium 6” cock.”

“I have a fat 9” cock and I push it in young girls’ tight assholes all the fucking time. You should get rid of that wanker.”

“You have a 9” cock!” she exclaimed as she slid the Rabbit forward again. “That will be too big for my little, tight asshole. It will rip me apart!”

“Yes, I like to rip young girl’s assholes with my big hard cock. I like to hear them cry and beg me to stop as I fuck them hard.”

“Bernard, I would love to tie you up and fuck your big asshole hard with my Rampant Rabbit.”

He hung up.

Bastard liked to give but couldn’t take. Sounded like a fucking paedophile, anyway.

She picked up a frosted doughnut, took a huge bite and a mouthful of milky coffee as the phone started ringing. She picked it up on the fifth ring and said in a voice dripping with boredom, “Indra here.”

“Are you a dirty fucking bitch?”

“Yes, I am a dirty fucking bitch,” she replied, suddenly wide awake.

Oh good! A nasty caller!

“Are you a filthy nigger bitch?”

“Yes, babes, I am a filthy, nasty, dirty nigger whore—just like your fucking mama!” She slammed the phone down and logged off.

Racist fucker!

Shit! She had already been warned several times about losing her temper but she couldn’t understand why the bastards would pay premium rate just to give her racial abuse. If they had any sense at all they would dial any number in a Black area like Brixton or Peckham and just curse whoever answered the phone, at local or national rate. Stupid fuckers!

Her phone rang five minutes later. She was still logged off, so she knew it was the supervisor from the chatline calling her. She didn’t answer it as she lay on her bed, playing ‘now-you-see-him, now-you-don’t’ with her best friend the Rabbit. It rang again ten minutes later and wearily she picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Indra, why did you allow the customer to get to you? You should have calmly told him to stop using offensive language and warned him you’d hang up if he continued,” scolded cum-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth Francine.

“He didn’t get to me. I just thought he’d like a little tit for tat.”

“Then why did you log off right after his call?”

“I logged off because I wanted to shit.”

“That’s more information than I need, thank you very much.”

“Sorry, Francine. I am so used to talking to the punters I forget myself sometimes.”

Prissy fucking bitch! Regularly lets men shit in her mouth over the phone but gets offended when I talk about putting it in a toilet bowl where it belongs. Go fucking figure!

“So are you going to log back on, Indra? Your stats are pretty low and you only have one more day to make up your hours.”

“I was just about to log on when you called me.”

“Okay. Remember, Indra, we are providing a service. Our callers want you to live out their fantasies not give them abuse. And please try to sound like you enjoy what you do.”

“Okay, Francine. Bye.”

Indra had been planning to switch her bunny back on and let him hop all over her pussy at a nice high setting. Now she had to log the fuck back on. The job was really beginning to get on her last nerve! She had started it five months ago when a friend told her it was an easy way of making extra money. Since her parents had moved back to Trinidad, she’d used her mother’s details to apply for the job so that the money she earned wouldn’t interfere with her Job Seeker’s Allowance. The agency had told her not to use her real name or give out any personal details, but since she’d used her mother’s details she decided to use her real name as her chatline ID. The last thing she needed was to choose a fake name and ask a punter, ‘who?’ when he called her by it. She was too busy trying to make ends meet to have time to remember a fake name.

At first she had loved the job, making the fuckers cum in less than three minutes even though she had been warned repeatedly that it was her job to keep them on the telephone line for as long as possible. She liked to stick her two fingers in her mouth and make sucking sounds as if she was giving them head—two or three minutes, next call. When she was in a good mood she could virtually blow fifteen to twenty men in an hour. But now the paltry pay didn’t seem worth the sleepless nights and the slimy bastards giving her grief down the telephone line.

She logged back on as she hid most of the bunny in her pussy.

“Hi babes, this is Indra!”

“Is your pussy still sore from my fist?”

Paul? No Andrew! “Andrew honey, my pussy is still aching but it feels good.”

“You remembered my name!”

Bless! He sounded so pleased!

“Babes, a girl always remembers her first fist-fucker, just like she remembers the first guy who put his hard cock in her tight pussy and ripped it open.”

“Have you been naughty since?”

“Yes, I’ve been extra naughty. I let a guy fuck me in the ass with his fat 9” cock.”

“You bad girl!”

“Are you going to punish me again?”

“Yes but this time I will fist your asshole.”

“Oh no! His cock was so big it took him fifteen minutes to get the head of his cock past my rim and another ten minutes to get the full length inside my tight asshole. It would take at least half an hour for you to get your big hand inside me.”

“I have the time, darling.”

Now that was what she wanted to hear. If she kept him online for at least half an hour she could log off right after—job fucking done!

“Are you going to rim my asshole first? Get it nice and wet so you could stick your hand inside afterwards?”

“Yes, bend right over and spread your cheeks with your hands.”

“Let me take off my thong first. Do you want me to take off my high heels as well or should I leave them on?”

“Leave the shoes on,” he commanded. “What colour are they?”

“They are red, 6” stilettos,” she informed him, looking down at her slim, bare feet. “I wear red when I want to be naughty.”

“Yes, leave them on.”

“I am holding my cheeks open, babes, slip your tongue right in that asshole and tongue it. Make it very wet.”

“I am tonguing your tight asshole.”

“Your tongue feels so good in my sore asshole.”

“Are you going to let another man put his cock in your asshole, you naughty girl?”

Only if you punish me like this afterwards.”

“Right, you bad girl, I am going to start sticking fingers in your asshole now.”

“Okay, Andrew babes, but start with one finger and work your way up, honey. My ass is still sore from that horrible man’s big cock.”

“No. I’ll start with two fingers, you bad girl. There, I’ve stuck two fingers in your tight asshole and now I am vigorously finger-fucking you.”

“Yes, babes. Yes.”

“I slap your ass for letting another man fuck you. Bad girl!”

“Slap it again, babes. Harder this time.”

Don’t hurt yourself!

She smiled as she heard him making slapping sounds—his hand against some part of his body. She wondered if she told him to punch her if he would knock himself out.

“Now I am going to give you all of my fingers, open wider.”

“Ouch! Aaaah! Sssss! Your fingers are so big and long!”

“Yes, take them all, you bad girl!”

“Yes, babes, work them in and out of my ass.”

“Now I am going to push the whole hand inside.”

“Give me your whole hand, babes. Only you punish me like this. I love it.”

When the line went dead she was surprised. She had kept him talking for an hour!

She logged off and switched the bunny on.

***

Talking about first times reminded her of Jamie Atherton, her twenty-three-year-old Biology teacher. He had walked into the class the very first day she had returned to school after the summer holidays, fresh from obtaining his teaching qualifications and she had fancied the pants off him. She had started sitting up front in the classroom just to be close to him and whenever his green eyes met hers it would send a shiver down her spine, she also noticed that he flushed every time their eyes met.

She had followed him home from school one day, walking about ten metres behind him until he got to his ground-floor flat. When she knocked on his door, only minutes after he had stepped inside, he was shocked to see her. She had slipped into the small flat while he was still trying to tell her that it was wrong for her to be there. Less than fifteen minutes later he was sitting with his head in his hands, horrified that he had taken her virginity. He had begged her not to tell anyone what happened between them or he’d be in serious trouble because she was only fifteen. The sex had been shite and she’d immediately lost interest in him.

Six months later, two weeks after her sixteenth birthday, an eighteen-year-old second cousin of her father’s came over from Trinidad to stay with her parents while he was doing a short course in London. The two of them had fucked every chance they got, which was almost every day. Her parents had assumed because they were third cousins they could leave them alone together. Fools! It wasn’t as if he was her brother!

After her cousin went back to the Caribbean she started picking likely candidates from the boys at school but most of them were rubbish. By the time she was eighteen she’d lost track of how many boys she had slept with. She was like a clothes peg—squeeze her head and her legs opened. At first she couldn’t understand why she liked sex so much, until she met a Guyanese girl who was also half-Black, half-Indian, or Dougla as the girl put it. The girl confessed that she loved cock too and explained that mixing the two races sometimes produced over-sexed off-spring. After that Indra gave up trying to control her pussy, she let it have as much cock as it wanted—after all, she’d thought, why fight nature?

At twenty, while working on the checkout at Tesco she met a thirty-six-year-old Grenadian who came into the store to buy cigarettes. Later, the same night, as he was fucking her, she realized that the men who had fucked her best so far had all been West Indian.

Three weeks later the Grenadian walked her home at the end of her eight-hour shift. After he plugged her pussy with his shaft, he demanded that she get up and cook him something to eat. She’d said that she was tired and suggested that perhaps he could order a pizza, Chinese or Indian and have it delivered. He delivered a few sound slaps across her face and she’d gotten up and cooked him an English breakfast at ten in the evening. She debated whether or not to add some spit or pee as seasoning but decided against it. He ate heartily, gave her another good shafting and then started snoring.

When she woke up the next morning she stood looking down at his fat face, his big, ugly cock and large beer belly as he lay sprawled across her single bed. In the three weeks he had been coming to her house to fuck her, he had never once brought as much as a bar of chocolate with him, and last night he had demanded dinner like he gave her money regularly for food shopping. The next thing she knew she’d had his lighter in her hand, his pubic hair was alight and she was yelling, “Fire!”

He had jumped out of his sleep and quickly put the flames out. She ran to the kitchen and grabbed the same greasy saucepan she’d cooked his fry-up in the night before and stood waiting for him. When he’d rushed into the kitchen she thought he was going to kick her ass for sure but one look at her set face and her hair standing on end changed his mind. He’d called her a ‘crazy Coolie bitch’ and left.

Her last boyfriend Rodney was Guyanese and a real fuckman. He gave her some sweet fucking but he was also fucking several other women—she had to wait in line for the sweet fucks. Six months ago she had woken up to find him gone after a particularly sweet fucking. Finding him gone in the morning wasn’t unusual, he had a baby-mother whom he lived with so he couldn’t stay out all night but what was very unusual was the £20 missing from her purse. She had withdrawn £50 from her Giro money earlier the same day and she hadn’t spent any of it, so she knew he had stolen it. She had missed smaller notes and odd things before but she’d thought she was mistaken. Once a half-full bottle of her favourite perfume had upped and walked away. She’d thought she had thrown it out with the rubbish by mistake; he had probably taken it for his baby-mother. In effect she’d been paying Rodney to fuck her. His cock was sweet but not that sweet! Not her fucking hard-earned Giro money! She’d sent him a text: ‘Keep the £19.50 change but never fucking come back!’

Because her pussy was greedy she had let several undesirable men fuck her: some ugly, some good-looking, some Asian, some Black, some White, some young and some old but all poor, stingy bastards! She decided if she could satisfy the pussy DIY she would save herself the hassle, so the first thing she’d bought with her pay from the chatline was her Rabbit. Talk about money well spent! She didn’t need a man once the bunny had batteries. She kept backup batteries for her backup batteries. And backup for those, just in case!

***

As usual, as she reached over to speak to the first caller of the evening, Indra wondered what she would do if she recognized the voice or worst the person recognized hers. Brazen it out, of course! After all, which was worse calling a fucking chatline or working on one? The person at the other end of the telephone line would be the fool wasting good money not her.

“Hi, this is Indra!”

“Indra, I called back last night to finish your punishment but you weren’t online.”

“Andrew, babes, my ass was so sore I had to soak it in the bath.”

Good start to the evening. It should be a nice long call.

“Is your ass better now?”

“It’s a little better but I was naughty again today,” she confessed. “Babes, I couldn’t help myself.”

“How naughty?” he demanded.

“I let two guys fuck me at the same time.”

“That was very naughty.”

“I was wearing my favourite high heels, black with 7” heels.” Andrew seemed to have a thing about high heels. “One guy licked my feet while I was wearing the shoes but the other guy took one off and fucked me with the heel.”

“That was very naughty indeed! I am going to punish that naughty pussy.”

“I know, babes, I’ll need a good fisting.”

An hour went by without her even realizing it.

She logged off for a quick rabbit-fuck and then logged back on.

“Indra here, what’s your pleasure?” She was in a surprisingly good mood.

“You bad girl, did you play with yourself again?”

“Yes, Andrew babes, whenever you punish me with your fist I get so hot I have to go stick my bunny inside me to cool down.”

“Are you ready for another round of fist-fucking?”

“Babes, I’m always ready for your fist.”

“Open your legs wide. Your pussy is already wet so I don’t have to tongue your clit.”

“My pussy is dripping. Just stick your fingers right inside me.”

“I am sticking all my fingers inside your wet pussy and now I get my knuckles past your entrance.”

“Oh, babes, it feels so fucking good, give me some more.”

“There, I’ve pushed my whole hand inside you and now I am making a fist.”

“Yes, babes, make that fist and fist-fuck my tight pussy.”

“I am thrusting my fist faster and harder inside you and you like it.”

“I love it, babes, don’t stop. Fist-fuck me! Fist-fuck me, Andrew honey!” She switched the bunny on and seconds later she came with a loud groan.

“Indra, did you just cum?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes, babes, you were fist-fucking me so well I couldn’t wait until you hung up.”

“I would love to fist-fuck you for real.”

“Andrew, babes, I would love you to fist-fuck me for real.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.” She wasn’t but whatever floated his boat.

“Okay, I’ll think of something. I will call you tomorrow, darling.”

“Good night, babes. I can’t wait for another fist-fuck tomorrow.”

She logged off as soon as he hung up. She couldn’t believe she had used the bunny in the middle of a call! Andrew didn’t sound like the other punters, his voice was so sexy and sophisticated it felt more like she was having telephone sex with a boyfriend rather than a complete stranger. It was weird!

***

She walked out of the Job Centre more pissed off than usual after signing on for her Job Seeker’s Allowance. The bitch behind the counter had tried to get Indra to apply for jobs she didn’t want. Indra had found a reason why she couldn’t do any of them. She couldn’t live on minimum wage, couldn’t type, couldn’t use computers, couldn’t travel too far, couldn’t...couldn’t give a damn! Eventually the bitch got the picture but Indra knew it was only a matter of time before they started sending her on training courses. Technically she should be actively seeking employment while receiving the fucking Job Seeker’s Allowance. Just her luck to be born twenty years too late—the older generation enjoyed the dole for years without anyone hassling them, now the stress she was getting for a few measly pounds was almost not worth the bother.

Her life was shit. She needed some excitement soon or she would die of boredom.

She stopped at KFC, bought a Zinger burger and ate it as she walked slowly home, trying to cheer herself up. As she turned the corner she admired the sleek lines of the shiny, topaz blue Mercedes-Benz SL 65 that was parked in front of her gate. She laughingly wondered if the person was there to visit her.

In her fucking dreams!

She glanced at the driver as she went past. He was a hunk! She licked her lips as she opened her gate and strolled up the short walkway. She had almost reached the front door of her flat when she heard, “Indra!”

Turning in surprise, she saw him get out of the car. He looked like a male model. About 6” tall, lean but broad-shouldered, his business suit so sharp it could cut you and every strand of his thick blond hair perfectly in place. He stopped at the gate.

What could he possibly want with her?

His dark grey eyes made her pussy jump when they met hers as she got closer to him.

“Yes?” She hoped he wasn’t someone from the government coming to see if she was a benefit cheat. Nah! The government couldn’t afford to buy their officials such expensive cars. “Can I help you?”

“It’s Andrew.”

“Andrew?” she asked puzzled. Then she made the connection and started to back away from him. The agency had assured her that the callers couldn’t trace her phone number. “How the fuck did you find me?”

She couldn’t believe this shit! “I’m calling the fucking police!”

“Indra, please.” His eyes pleaded with her and she felt her pussy clench again as she stared back at him.

“What do you want with me?”

“I want to talk to you. Do you mind if we sit in my car?”

“Why should I go into your car? I don’t know you.”

“Indra, sweetheart, you know me...you know what I like...what I want.”

Just the thought of it made her pussy instantly wet. She had imagined him older and dodgy-looking, but he looked about twenty-six and was handsome enough to give Brad a run for his money. She wouldn’t mind him fucking her at all—it was about time she had some high-class cock!

“You can come inside. I’ll give you fifteen minutes to tell me exactly what you want from me.” She turned and walked back up the walkway. After a slight hesitation he followed her. She unlocked the door and let him precede her into her flat. “I am leaving the door open.”

“That’s fine.”

“Sit down.” She pointed him to an armchair and waited until he was seated before lowering herself on to its twin, near to the front door.

“First, let me tell you about myself. My name is Andrew Farley. I work for the Government as a telecommunications specialist. Two nights ago I secretly called you from the office instead of my home, using a very sophisticated system to override the chatline’s blocking service and trace your number. If I had been caught using the equipment inappropriately, I would have been fired.” He took an identification card from his pocket and held it out to her. “This is my security pass.”

“That could be fake,” she said scornfully, not moving to check it, in case he grabbed her.

“I am 28 years old, unmarried and I don’t have any children,” he continued. “I met my last girlfriend at UCL and we dated for three years, but when I was sent to Dubai on a two-year assignment she married my best friend.”

“Andrew, why are you telling me all this?”

Did she give a damn about his ex-girlfriend?

“I am trying to explain why I have been calling you so often. I used to fist my girlfriend and I have been searching for—”

“You think I’d let you fist me?” she asked indignantly, praying he’d say yes.

“Indra, I have been spending almost £500 a week talking to you on the chatline because you are the first person I’ve come across since my girlfriend who seems open to fisting. I sensed it almost from the first time I spoke to you but when you masturbated while I was talking to you, I knew it for sure. I could pay you the £500 instead.”

“You want to pay to fist me?” Indra sat staring at him in disbelief. Talking to him was the only reason she was still working on the chatline. He had been calling so regularly her stats had gone through the roof—her pay had almost quadrupled. She had been really enjoying their fist-fucking chats and the bunny-fucking as soon as she hung up the phone after him.

“Please, don’t be offended, I don’t think you are a prostitute or anything like that. I just want to compensate you for your time,” he said hastily.

“You could rip—” she began, remembering the pain her best friend’s older brother had caused her when he had tried to get three of his huge fingers inside her.

“If I couldn’t get my hand inside you, I wouldn’t force it—not every woman can take a fist. You are young, you don’t have any children—it could take a lot of time and patience to get my hand inside you. But believe me you wouldn’t forget the experience. I would pay you an extra £500 if I managed to get my fist inside you and £1000 each time you let me do it again.” He stood up, took a slim, expensive-looking leather wallet from his back pocket and quickly counted ten £50 notes. He put them on her side table and sat back down. “Just to show how serious I am, I’ll give you £500 now. I’ll come back Friday at 6 pm, if you decide you don’t want to do it, you can keep the money and that will be the end of the matter. But please give it some thought, it could be mutually pleasurable.”

He got up and walked through the door, leaving her staring at the notes in a stupor. By the time she caught herself and looked out, he was pulling away from the kerb. She closed the door, grabbed the money and counted it. £500—pure insanity! The notes seemed real but first thing in the morning she would take them to the bank to ensure they weren’t counterfeit.

To be fist-fucked was her biggest fantasy but could she really take a fist? Andrew was sitting there a minute ago talking about taking his time, but during their conversations he always talked about punishing her, what if he tried to use force? But imagine what she could do with a £500 - £1000 a week. Give up the chatline for one and stick two fingers up at the bitch who gave her grief at the Job Centre. Hell, now that she was loaded she could pay the bitch £50 and stick two fingers in her. Worse case scenario she would give him some pussy if his fist couldn’t fit. She was definitely going to give it a fucking try.

***

Friday at 6 pm precisely there was a knock on her front door. She opened it and he was standing outside, looking hmmm! He smiled at her as she stood back to let him enter the flat. He was dressed more casually this time but everything he wore still reeked designer.

“Hi.” He gave her a single red rose and a bottle of wine in a fancy bottle carrier, and came straight to the point, “Have you decided yet?”

“Yes.” No use pretending—she wanted it as much as he did. “But you better not tear my fucking pussy.”

“Indra, part of the pleasure is giving you pleasure—I will not hurt you, darling, trust me.” He leaned down and kissed her softly on the mouth before giving her a carrier bag with the name of one of London’s top department stores embossed on it. It contained half a dozen scented candles, latex gloves and an outsized tube of lubricant. She looked at him, an eyebrow raised enquiringly.

“The candles are for creating the right ambiance not for insertion,” he laughed. “I want you to be totally relaxed. The gloves and the lubricant are self-explanatory.” He held up his slim hands. They looked manicured to the nth degree, but unlike some other metrosexuals he wasn’t wearing clear nail polish. “I prefer not to use gloves, I like the sensation of skin against skin but it depends on how wet your pussy gets.”

She gave a low, throaty laugh—her abundant pussy juice had put off a few small-cock men in the past. Luckily her bunny was a good swimmer, else he would have drowned by now because the more he aroused her, the more she wet his poor little head.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” Andrew suggested as they stood looking at each other self-consciously.

She turned and eagerly led the way, realizing that she had missed having a man.

“Your skin reminds me of chocolate,” Andrew whispered as he pulled the zipper down and slid the short denim dress off her. He put his mouth on her neck and took a playful bite. “Tastes like chocolate, too.”

That would be the cocoa-butter, babes.

She unhooked her bra, slipped out of her thong and sat on the bed as he undressed. She watched him hook his thumbs in his boxers and pull them downwards. His erect cock was a total surprise. She wondered why he would want to fist a woman when the head of his hammer cock was only just slimmer than his hand. It wasn’t long, about 6” but it was fat and the head fatter still. She’d had a few cocks, okay a few dozen, but she had never seen anything like it! He was tall and slim, even his hands and feet were narrow almost girlish, so where did he get a short, fat cock from?

Maybe he borrowed it from a short, fat man, she thought in amusement.

He kissed her, pressing her backwards as he climbed onto the single bed to join her. He cupped her face, pushed his tongue deep inside her mouth and rubbed his hard cock against her before he moved down to her nipples. She watched him, his blond hair falling forward as he moved from one nipple to the next, still not believing he was actually there with her. She had fantasized about him, masturbated daily thinking about him fist-fucking her. Now he was lying on top of her. Things like this didn’t happen in real life.

He continued downwards, draping her legs over his shoulders, opening her pussy lips with his fingers to place his lips on her clit. She lay back and enjoyed the movement of his tongue and let her juices flow, as the sweet fragrance of the scented candles wafted around them.

“Where is that naughty bunny hiding? I’d like to meet him,” Andrew said as he pushed two slim fingers inside her pussy. “Hmmm! You’re nice and wet!”

She reached under her pillow for her trusty Rabbit. She always kept him at hand, just in case she had a sudden attack of horniness. Andrew pulled his fingers out and licked them as she pushed the 7” Rabbit inside her pussy and switched him on. He put his hand over hers and she let him take the bunny. He pushed it carefully in and out of her, spreading her lips and following the movement of the bunny with his eyes. “I want you totally relaxed.”

It’s so much better to have someone else bunny-fuck you, she thought as she arched off the bed minutes later as she came.

“Your pussy’s so wet!” He pulled the bunny out and covered her body with his. “I want to fuck you first, may I?”

“Yes.”

Oh God, yes! She’d thought he’d never ask! She hadn’t had a real cock in six months.

He kissed her as he put the hammer against her pussy. “I don’t want you sore so I will fuck you gently now. If I can’t get my hand inside you, I’d like to fuck you again later with a bit more vigour.”

Stop the upper-class bullshit talk and just give me the damn cock!

The hammer cleared everything in its path like a plunger in a syringe. When he slowly withdrew she gasped—the plunger was now going the wrong way!

Andrew stopped. “We will do this later. The main reason I am here today is to fist you and I want to do it in the most favourable conditions.”

“OK.” It wasn’t so painful that she wouldn’t enjoy but it would definitely make her sore and she was looking forward to the fisting as much as he was.

He slowly pulled his cock free. It was covered in her juices and he ran his hand along its length and collected most of it. “You are perfect for fisting—your pussy is just dripping and natural moisture is much better than shop-bought lubricant.”

He pushed two fingers in her pussy and slowly finger-fucked her while he gently moulded her clit between the thumb and forefinger of his other hand. He slid the third carefully inside her. Her pussy ached but he wasn’t really hurting her.

“This might be a little painful,” Andrew warned as he tried to work a fourth finger past her entrance. She bit her bottom lip and held her breath. “Just stay relaxed for me, honey. If it doesn’t happen today we’ll keep trying.”

She let out the breath she’d been holding, she’d been worried that he wouldn’t come back if he couldn’t accomplish the fist-fuck today. He pressed his fingers against her entrance and thrust them backwards and forwards a few times.

“You’re not ready for fisting yet, but even this far is good for me—most girls won’t allow it.” His face was rueful as he pulled his fingers out and slid his body over hers again. “Now for the vigorous fucking I promised you.”

He kissed her as he plunged his cock inside her and withdrew it quickly.

She pulled her lips away from his. “Fuck! Your cock is almost as big as your hand!”

“I’ll have to fuck you often then—” he smiled devilishly, plunging his cock deeper and withdrawing it again “—in no time you’ll be ready for my fist.”

She held on to the headboard as he started thrusting faster. The plunger made her pussy sore within minutes but after a six-month drought she wasn’t about to let that small detail mar her enjoyment of a real cock.

***

Two months later Indra sat waiting for Andrew to arrive, dressed only in a sexy red silk robe and the matching high heels he had brought on his second visit. She couldn’t believe she actually had £4000 hidden in her suitcase—hopefully £5000 after she let Andrew finally fist her tonight. She had still collected her Giro payments. After all, she wasn’t working—fucking Andrew wasn’t a job.

His plunger had been doing a great job of preparing her pussy for fisting and by his fourth visit she’d realized that he could get his hand inside her but she had decided to play Little Miss Tight Pussy for a little longer and make some money. She wanted to visit her parents in Trinidad and maybe see if her cousin’s cock with its wicked left hook was as sweet as she remembered.

Andrew claimed that he’d want to fist her regularly but who knew? Once he fisted her he might get the urge to move on. She knew from bitter experience that for many men the chase was sweeter than the capture—enough fuckers had sniffed around her relentlessly like dogs in heat, only to vanish soon after they’d had some pussy. Although, to be fair, Andrew seemed to really enjoy fucking her. Her pussy was still acclimatizing to his hammer-head cock, it made her sore every time but she would be very sad to lose that plunger. Six months ago, if anyone had given her a choice of length versus girth, she would have chosen length without a second thought—now she would have to know exactly how long or how fat before making a decision.

He was such a fucking gentleman; any other man would have lost patience by now but he insisted the aim of the fisting was to give her pleasure not pain. She sometimes felt guilty as she deliberately clenched her pussy muscles without appearing to do so when he pushed his fingers inside her, stopping them from going too far. The hour of Pilates she reluctantly did four times a week to control her wayward butt had given her amazing control of her pelvic muscles.

Her doorbell rang at exactly 6 pm and she wondered again if Andrew parked around the corner and waited so that he could arrive with military precision. She tottered over to the door to let him in.

Surprisingly, his hands were empty; he always brought either lingerie, luxury chocolates, perfume, wine or flowers for her. She didn’t comment as she let him in.

Maybe he’d had enough.

“Hi, darling.” He kissed her and then buried his nose into her neck, breathing in the perfume he’d brought her the previous week. “You look and smell incredible!”

He straightened, pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to her.

He was such a fucking treasure—always business before pleasure!

“Do you mind if we go to my house today?”

“Why?” She was dying to see where he lived but this was a bit sudden.

He held her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “You know you can trust me, I am not going to do anything there we haven’t done before. I just want to see if a different setting would be more conducive to fisting.” He kissed her again, more deeply this time as he opened her robe, cupped her ass and pressed her against his hardening cock.

“Okay. Let me get dressed.”

She hurried to her bedroom and pulled on underwear, a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, stuffed an extra thong in her jeans pocket and picked up her handbag.

He smiled and held his hand out to her as she re-entered the living room.

Her next-door neighbour was watering the plants in her front garden when they came out of the flat. Her blue eyes widened in admiration as she took a look at Andrew. Then she noticed their linked hands and smirked knowingly.

“You charging by the hour now, Indra?” she shouted across the hedge.

Eat shit and die, bitch!

“I wouldn’t want to put you out of business, Megan, honey,” Indra replied sweetly, dying to really curse the nosy bitch out. The woman was jealous because her husband was always sniffing around Indra. As far as Indra was concerned he too could eat shit and fucking die!

Andrew opened the car door and made sure she was seated before coming around and slipping into the driver’s seat.

Such a fucking gentleman!

She admired the sleek interior of his car, amazed by the softness and comfort of the seats. As he turned the key in the ignition and moved smoothly away from the kerb she remembered her Rabbit.

“Shit! I left the bunny!”

“I think you should leave him home, he might get jealous of the new bunny I bought you.”

She laughed at the image of her bunny sulking in a corner as he watched another bunny fuck her.

They got caught in the tail end of rush hour traffic and it took them an hour and a quarter to arrive at his four-bedroom house in Holland Park. He pulled up in front of the cream-coloured building and activated the gate by pressing a button on a small square black box he retrieved from his glove compartment, they then drove up to the garage door which he opened by pressing another button. The garage was bigger than her flat. He deftly parked the car next to its bigger cousin, a black Mercedes-Benz GL 500, leaving enough room to hold a party. They entered the house through a door in the garage and she looked around the spacious living room, her mouth falling open in sheer disbelief.

So this is how the other half lived! Fuck me!

“I’ll run the bath.” Andrew nuzzled her neck and left the room.

He’d told her that he did some consultancy work for two of the major telecommunications companies in the UK but she had no idea he would be this loaded. His house was worth at least a cool million!

She walked up to the portrait of a couple sitting on a high-back sofa with a young boy between them. The boy was Andrew at the age of ten or eleven, the two adults were obviously his parents. Indra wondered what the stiff-upper-lipped English couple would say if they knew their son had a penchant for putting his fist in a pussy and was currently trying to get it into a Black pussy. She didn’t think they would approve one bit.

“I see you’ve met the folks.” Andrew came up behind her so silently she was startled when he whispered the words in her ear.

“Where do they live?” she asked as he moulded her breasts.

“In Cornwall, but we hardly speak to one another. They didn’t like my last girlfriend because she was mixed-race.”

“They wouldn’t like me then.” She could just imagine him introducing her to them, ‘Mother, father, meet the woman I am currently paying to fist-fuck.’ Nice!

“I like you and that’s all that matters.” He hugged her briefly. “The bath’s ready.”

She reached for the hem of her T-shirt as he unzipped her jeans.

Sharing a bath was very erotic she discovered minutes later as she lay against him in the large, sunken bathtub.

He fondled her breasts idly. “Are you sleeping?”

“I’m wide awake.” She covered his hands with hers demanding a firmer touch and he obliged by tweaking her nipples for a few minutes.

“Good. Let’s go to bed.” He slipped out from behind her and pulled on a large thick bathrobe. Her body felt heavy as she stepped out of the water—she wasn’t used to having baths, her flat only had a tiny shower cubicle.

“Now I feel sleepy,” she complained.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you awake,” Andrew promised as he wrapped the ends of the robe around her. His cock stirred against her ass and she reached back to stroke it, making him groan. “Let’s try the fisting before I give in to the urge to tumble you onto the floor and fuck you right now.”

She smiled as he led her into his spacious bedroom; he had certainly loosened up in the weeks since he had met her—now he fucked her without asking first!

The candles were already lit and he had scattered rose petals all over the bed. In the middle of the petals lay her ultimate rabbit—the Three Way Rabbit!

“How did you know I wanted one?”

“Wild guess.” Andrew smiled at the excitement on her face. “Let’s try him.”

Within minutes she had the bunny on the perfect setting. She handed him to Andrew and lay back to let him continue working it in and out of her pussy. As she came hard less than a minute later she knew sadly she would have to find a new, caring home for her old bunny. Three-Way was the only way!

Her pussy pulsated pleasantly. Even if she hadn’t planned to let him go all the way tonight, after that fabulous bunny-fuck she would have. He moved down her body and slid his fingers inside her, one digit at a time. He got his knuckles past her opening but then it got a bit more difficult. He pressed his thumb against his palm and pushed his hand a little deeper.

Ah!” That hurt a bit.

“That was the worst part...we are almost there. Breathe, sweetheart...just keep taking deep breaths.”

Indra took a deep breath. Her pussy felt stretched but it wasn’t painful. She felt fullness...and then a momentary easing of pressure.

“You have done it, you beautiful girl.” He looked up at her, his eyes shining. He picked up a mirror from the bedside table. “See how incredible it looks.”

She raised herself and looked down at the reflection in the mirror. The whole of his hand was up inside her pussy—he looked like an amputee. The contrast of his lightly tanned arm to her darker skin was awesome!

“How does it feel?”

“Incredible!”

“You are amazing. Eventually I will be able to move my fist back and forth—really fist-fuck you and you’ll have the most intense orgasms. It will take a while to get you to that stage.” He leaned forward and tongued her clit, and she felt her pussy pulsate around his embedded fist.

“Your hand feels as though it belongs right there.”

“Yes it does but I’d better take it out before your pussy locks on to it.” He pulled gently on his hand but it seemed wedged. “Relax for me, sweetheart.”

Indra tried to relax as a horrible thought suddenly entered her head. What if he can’t get it out? She had a quick, terrifying image of the two of them being wheeled into surgery for separation. Andrew seemed to sense her worry. “You are tensing up, honey, I can feel it. You’ve done the tough part, this is a breeze.”

She forced herself to relax as he tongued her clit and made the smallest thrusting motions. Instinctively, she started to rotate her pussy against his hand as the most unbelievably delicious sensations started running through her body.

“That’s it sweetheart, feel the pleasure.”

He sucked harder on her clit as her arousal mounted and suddenly she exploded, her contracting pussy gripping his fist. Andrew reached down and quickly wanked his cock, shooting his load just as her pussy suddenly expelled his fist.

“That was intense.” If she’d known it would be so mind-blowing she would have let him do it much sooner.

“For me, too.” He kissed her softly before reaching into his top drawer. He handed her an envelope as he got off the bed. “Let me get the champagne. We have to celebrate our first fist-fuck.”

She lay back against the pillows and watched him walk out of the room before opening the envelope and quickly counting her dough. It would be so easy to fall in love with him—he treated her so fucking well! The money kept her focussed—she would be foolish to think that she was anything more than a paid piece of ass.

Andrew came back with the champagne and they lay on the bed together, sipping it by the soft lights of the scented candles. She was still having mini orgasms every now and again. It was unbelievable.

“When we talked on the phone I never imagined you’d be so beautiful,” he confessed as he moved her single, thick braid aside and kissed her neck. “I was expecting a much older woman.”

“If I was older what would you have done?”

“I would have still wanted to fist you but I might not have fucked you.”

“You would have fisted me even if I was older? Why?”

“Trying to find a woman who will take a fist is like looking for a needle in a haystack. I was getting so desperate I was almost ready to fist a man!”

“You fist assholes as well?” She turned to look at him. Not mine!

“No, it wouldn’t be the same as a pussy.”

“Good! Because no one plays around my ass!”

“Honey, if I could fist your pussy for the rest of my life I’d be a very happy man.” He put his glass down on the bedside table and moved down the bed to spread her legs. He stuck his head between them but instead of tonguing her clit, he carefully opened her pussy lips with his fingers. “Are you sore or in pain?”

“No.”

He slid his body onto hers. “Good. Prepare for a night of serious fucking.”

“I assume you mean your cock and not your fist.”

“Fisting is something to be savoured; we probably won’t do it again for a while.” He sucked on her nipple briefly. “I want to fuck you. You’ll have the devil’s own job keeping my cock out of your pussy now that my fist has been inside you.”

He slipped his cock inside her, buried it to the hilt and pulled it out slowly.

“Shit! Your cock hurts more coming out than going in!” She stopped him from thrusting forward again. “Come up here and fuck my breasts instead.”

“Alright, we’ll leave the night of serious fucking for tomorrow.” Andrew laughed and moved up the bed. She pushed her breasts together, creating a snug, warm space for his cock. She gave him head intermittently as he fucked her breasts and within minutes he was spurting his cum. He grabbed some tissues from the bedside table and wiped the few drops, which had escaped her mouth, off her breasts.

Such a fucking gentleman!

He blew out the candles, climbed back into bed, pulled the covers up and put his arms around her, snuggling against her back. It was the first time they were spending the night together. Andrew’s huge bed was big enough for five people, yet he was wrapped tightly around her, his hand cupping her breast. Surprisingly, it didn’t feel too bad.

***

The following Friday night, Indra rested her head on a down-filled pillow as Andrew gave her the plunger from the back, the seventh night of serious fucking in a row. As he’d predicted, he couldn’t get enough of her pussy now that he’d frisked it and found no concealed weapons up inside. Not that she was complaining one tiny bit.

He hadn’t let her go back to her flat since he’d brought her over to his house. On Saturday he had taken her designer clothes shopping and bought her an entire wardrobe, including some very sexy lingerie. While he was at work she’d curled up in bed, flicking through the numerous channels on his TV until she found a programme or movie that caught her interest. Then, just before he was due home she would have a leisurely bath, and be waiting for him wearing one of his shirts or T-shirts, or dressed like a porn star. They rarely made it further than his living room. They had eaten out on the weekend but had cooked dinner together the rest of the week.

Earlier in the evening he had decided that they’d wait another week before they tried the fisting again. She didn’t mind, the fucking was very good, her pussy was so satisfied it hadn’t played hide-and-seek with the new bunny all week.

But he hadn’t put any pounds in her hand at 6pm as usual.

It had begun—the blurring of business and pleasure and she wasn’t having it! This was business not a fucking love affair!

“God, your pussy is going to kill me!” he gasped as he collapsed on to the bed beside her seconds after he had shot his cum deep inside her.

“It’s a good thing I’ve decided to take it to Trinidad with me next week then.” She uttered the words just as they formed in her head. She had enough money thanks to him; she’d book a flight when she got home.

“What?” Andrew sat up in alarm. “Darling, you can’t go now that we have finally achieved the fisting.”

“I’ll be back in three month’s time, you—”

“Three months! That’s far too long!” he protested.

“Babes, you have fucked me and fisted me, what else is there for us to do?”

“I had planned to ask you over dinner tonight but now is as good a time as any.” He reached into the top drawer and pulled out a small velvet box which he handed to her.

She opened it to reveal a beautiful square-cut diamond ring.

“Marry me?” he begged.

“What?”

“Marry me, please,” Andrew repeated, his grey eyes holding hers. “Give me a month to finish my current project and we’ll go to Trinidad together. We’ll get married and spent our honeymoon out there before we come back to the UK.”

He was fucking serious! He wanted to marry her just because her pussy could take his fist!

Go fucking figure!

*****