The Mobster’s Wife

Cash Morgan

A one night stand has unexpected consequences for private eye, Cash Morgan. He’s inadvertently slept with the wife of Jamie Burton, a mobster on the run from the law. The police now recruit Cash to act as bait, his job is to keep sleeping with Burton’s wife, Erica, to lure her jealous husband out of hiding. The question is, who will kill Cash first: Jamie Burton with a bullet, or the insatiable Erica by more pleasant means?

It happened a few years ago, just after my third marriage ended for reasons which can be summarised as: ‘because I’m an idiot with no self-control’.

I woke up in a hotel room, (which isn’t unusual). It was a clearly a nice hotel (which is). There was slight hangover ache towards the back of my brain, but nothing too serious. The rest of me however felt like a mass of bruises, scratches, muscle pulls and some very specific areas of soreness. The reason for all that reclined on the bed beside me, head propped up on one hand, looking down at me with vividly blue eyes and a wolfish expression.

“Morning lover.”

Back-tracking for a second; my name is Cash Morgan (it’s not what I was christened but it’s what I go by). I’m a private detective, at the time of this story I was in my early forties, and when it comes to women I seldom think with my brain. That’s all you really need to know about me for now, everything else I’ll keep on a need-to-know basis as the story progresses. No sense in getting bogged down in unnecessary detail at this early stage of the game.

I don’t often find myself in high class hotels, but when I do it’s usually for work and last night was no exception. The Regent was the expensive love nest selected by the indiscreet husband I was tailing, and if he thought the hotel was pricey then that was nothing to what the pictures I took of him and his secretary were going to cost him. His wife however was going to love the pictures - perhaps not immediately, but they were going to help her do very well out of the divorce. This sort of job is my bread and butter - I did my time in the official force but these days I steer clear of actual criminals as much as humanly possible. But I digress...

Once I’d got enough pictures of the cheating husband, I headed to the hotel bar to have a few drinks on my client’s account, which seemed fair enough given what a good job I’d done. There were a few beautiful women in the bar, but no one who made me think of staying for more than a drink, until Erica walked in. There was nothing subtle about Erica - her black hair was piled up above an attractively made-up face; thick eyelashes, sharp as razors, surmounting startlingly blue eyes. She was well tanned, and I would have hazarded a guess that that tan was uniform across every square millimetre of her voluptuous body. She wore a long dress with a split that went all the way up to her waist, showing the sun-browned skin of her hip and flaring out teasingly as she walked. Her backside was the perfect heart-shaped rear, ample but firm, the cheeks moving plushly against each other as she walked. But it was from the front that Erica made the most extraordinary impression; her breasts were magnificent, a pair of bronzed bowling balls, jacked up by a cleverly designed dress that emphasised their size and roundness. The deep valley between them had every man in the room mentally motor-boating.

A woman like that could have any man she wanted, in fact she could probably have every man she wanted and all at once if she wanted. There was no way that she could be staying in the hotel on her own, but I figured: what the hell, I had nothing to lose. As Erica reached the bar I immediately slid up next to her.

“Can I buy you a drink?” You can’t beat the classics.

She looked me up and down, a slight smile on her cherry red lips. “Sure.”

Sometimes all you have to do is ask, and the thing about women like Erica is that men are often too nervous to ask.

Over a drink we chatted the bland nothings of people meeting for the first time, each knowing that this is not a deep and meaningful and each wondering where this is going to end up. Perhaps I was being optimistic, but I had a feeling that Erica was looking for the same end to the evening that I was. A few drinks later my suspicions were confirmed when she laid a hand on my leg and stared into my eyes with a deliberately flirtatious expression.

“I suppose you’d like to come up to my room?”

I met her gaze. “Yes I would.”

Erica let her tongue travel around the top of her glass, lapping up a stray drip of alcohol.

“Then what are we waiting for?”

Some women, you just have to spend five minutes in their company to know that they’re going to be good in bed. Erica was incredible: imaginative and athletic, flipping between dominant and submissive suddenly and without warning, enthusiastic, experienced and completely lacking in inhibitions; everything you want in a sexual partner. There is nothing more satisfying for a man than a woman who really enjoys sex and is not shy about showing it. Erica was the most delightfully, relentlessly, exhaustingly insatiable woman I’d ever met, always wanting more, more, more of me, and always right now; one penis, no waiting. Which is flattering of course, but a little tiring - I mean, I like to think my stamina is above average, but damn! Still, it’s amazing how the right woman can make a man rise to the occasion. Time and again I thought I was done for the night, but Erica brought me back from the dead and we were off again.

I don’t know what time it was when she was finally satisfied and we both fell into an exhausted slumber, but now it was nine in the morning and sleep had apparently recharged her batteries. Erica’s hand slid down my chest, slipping beneath the blankets to the one part of me that remained asleep. She pouted.

“Don’t you want me anymore?”

Truth be told, I was in two minds. On the one hand, Erica was the most instantly desirable women I had ever met and I absolutely wanted her. On the other, I was wiped out, used up and sore as hell - all I wanted was to rest my body in a warm bed and my genitals in a cold bath. In the event however, I didn’t get a vote. In situations like this my dick has a mind of its own, always makes the same decision and always overrules my brain.

Erica’s pout turned to a smile as her fingers curled around my fast-hardening organ.

“That’s more like it.”

She leaned over to kiss me and I accepted her wicked tongue back into my mouth; if it was going to happen then I might as well enjoy it. Beneath the sheets Erica’s right hand was all kinds of busy, first pumping on my growing shaft, then delving down to squeeze and scratch at my hairy testicles, next tracing a flirtatious finger around the tight knothole of my anus before returning to my now straining prick and beating her fist hard along its length.

“Didn’t I get lucky to find such a big boy,” she murmured.

You never get tired of hearing stuff like that.

Suddenly Erica dived beneath the covers, giggling as she went, and I gasped as her mouth close around me. As in every area of sex, Erica knew exactly what she was doing; she sucked on my cockhead like a lollypop before deep-throating almost my whole length, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin. Releasing me, she then kissed her way down the shaft and chewed her way back up, making me grunt with delicious pain as her teeth gnawed at my vulnerable weapon. After administering one last bite to the head, she buried her face between by thighs, going after my balls like a pig after truffles, her right hand now back to pumping at my shaft.

Last night, as she had been dolling out similar treatment, I had wondered if she did this as a sort of test or rite of passage. It took a strong man to get through Erica’s foreplay without shooting his load, and a strong man was what she was looking for. I was pretty proud (and very grateful) to have passed the test, and graduated to the hairy pussy that nestled between her legs.

Suddenly I wanted that pussy. I reached for Erica and she caught on fast, moving her body around whilst keeping her head between my legs, sucking my balls and rolling them round in her mouth. Her curvaceous hips emerged from beneath the covers and I guided her to me, lifting one leg over my head so she straddled my face and I was just inches away from her succulent pussy. What a sight it was; neatly trimmed but still a proper bush (there’s too much of this shaving the whole thing off these days), through which I could glimpse full, plump lips, running with sticky nectar. I could feel the heat coming off her.

Wasting no more time I reached up to her fabulous arse cheeks and drew Erica closer. She whined with satisfaction as I buried my face in her tasty pussy flesh, slurping her honey and spearing my tongue as deep as it would go. As I began to eat her out in earnest, Erica abandoned my balls and returned to sucking my cock like her life depended on it. I fought to control my arousal - I definitely didn’t want to cum before I’d fucked her, but I knew Erica wasn’t ready yet; she liked to play her game and I would just have to hang in there.

With one hand I stroked at Erica’s clit - my tongue still scouring out her pussy - with the other I reached around to stroke down the exposed cleft of her backside, teasing at her bum-hole, making her wriggle excitedly into my lapping mouth. She meanwhile was sucking like a machine, teeth, tongue and lips working away at me, while her hands seemed to be everywhere - pinching, scratching, grabbing, stroking, keeping my dick furiously, painfully aroused.

Without warning, Erica sat back into an upright position, grinding her hips down into my face.

“Oh yes... oh yes... oh yes...”

Her whole weight rested on my face and I breathed in her delicious aroma, keeping my mouth and fingers hard at work.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Her superb arse twisted in tight little circles, always making sure that her pussy remained welded to my mouth. Then she stiffened.

“Oh... Oh... OH YES!”

She flopped down onto me, bunny humping her hips up and down in my face, tugging wildly at my cock as she writhed and squealed her way through her first orgasm of the morning. I swallowed up her tangy nectar, swishing my tongue the length of her pussy so as not to lose a drop.

Finally Erica lay still, gasping for breath and limp with exhaustion.

“What a way to start the day,” she said once she had got her breath back.

“Glad I could help.”

“Now...” She sat up again, still astride me, crawling down my body to where my dick was pointing straight up in the air like a flag pole. “If I don’t get this thing inside me I’m going to die.”

She had hold of me and was pumping ferociously again as she turned around to face me. She was astonishingly beautiful; that gorgeous face, those incredible breasts, the neat tuck of her waist spreading out into hips made for holding, thighs that were soft and yet athletic, and at the centre of it all, the dark mound of her pussy. All the aches and pains from last night’s mammoth session were gone, all exhaustion and reticence forgotten, all I wanted was to fuck this fabulous creature into next week.

Straddling my hips, Erica guided my dick to the mouth of her tunnel and sank down me in one unctuous stroke.

“Ooahh yeessss...” I’m not ashamed to say that was me.

Erica wriggled pleasantly against me, making sure she had every last millimetre of dick buried in there.

“Oh that feels sooooo good.” She looked down at me with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “I must warn you Cash, I take no prisoners. You get no extra points for size. I’m going to ride this thing till I break it.”

She leaned forward, planting her hands either side of me, the perfect orbs of her tits hanging beneath her with breath-taking firmness, her long, dark hair framing her gorgeous face. And then she was off.

After last night I knew what to expect, but I still gasped and grit my teeth as Erica began pounding those heavenly hips in and out of my crotch as hard as she could. She went from nought to sixty in seconds, her pussy eagerly gulping up my full length, reluctantly releasing it, then swallowing it up again. With each thrust, her buttocks smacked with meaty solidity into my hips, driving my priapic dick deep inside her.

“Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!” She gasped with each thrust.

Next, she pushed herself upright, hands planted on my belly, bouncing merrily up and down on my rigid pole, mouth a gaping smile, lost in a world of ecstasy. Occasionally she stopped bouncing to hump herself frantically against me, shivering in pleasure as she worked her clitty against my shaft. Then she was back to the bouncing, pounding into me hard enough to flatten out those gorgeous buns with each fleshy smack.

Fun though it was just lying there enjoying myself, my dick a delighted plaything of her greedy snatch, I thought it was time to take some more active part. I grabbed her churning hips, loving the feel of her taut flesh, drove my heels into the mattress and began to fuck my hips up at her from beneath.

Erica growled delightedly through gritted teeth, still keeping up her own battering assault. “That’s it! Give it to me Cash! Dammit, give it to me!”

I obliged as best I could, sucking in air like the engine of a supercar.

“OH... YES!” Erica went off like a rocket, her whole body now leaving the bed as she threw herself up and down on me and I clung on for dear life. “Stay with me Cash! Stay with me!”

Another thing I had learnt about Erica last night; just because she was cumming did not mean it was my turn. She liked to be fucked multiple times to multiple orgasms and the man’s job was to keep his head in the game and not go past the point of no return till she was completely satisfied.

Fortunately, a lifetime of serial philandering has left me with pretty good cock control, and when Erica flopped down limply on top of me, her sweat-sheened breasts pressed to my heaving chest, I was still good and hard inside her.

“Good boy,” murmured Erica as she bit at my face excitedly, still wriggling her hips, savouring the aftershocks of a mind-blowing orgasm. “Time for round 2!”

She lifted herself up, allowing my abused dick to slip from her body, and knelt on the bed beside me. Playfully she batted at my straining erection, giggling to herself.

“Damn this thing’s good fun. You should be on a mission to fuck every girl in Britain. You’d ruin them for their husbands but at least they’d know how sex is supposed to be done.”

Flattery or not, it’s nice to be appreciated

“I don’t think I can take much of the credit,” I said. Which wasn’t entirely true but why not be generous? I reached between her legs to stroke her mound. Damn she was hot.

Erica smiled. “Either way.” She flung herself flat back on the bed. “Fuck me till I die.”

That would probably be the only way to really satisfy this incredible woman, but I was determined to do my best with whatever I had left in the tank. I rolled on top of her, supporting myself on one hand and using the other to guide my granite weapon into position. Erica was a slick as grease as I slid back into the folds of her pussy. It really was an incredible little animal that pussy - slim and firm, warm and welcoming, like a hot, little hand holding me, expanding elastically to accommodate me but gripping like a vice. It possessed an exciting muscularity, rippling along my length, driving me wild before we’d even got going.

As I began to thrust in and out of that lush little snatch, establishing a steady rhythm, Erica reached out with both hands and grabbed her own legs just behind the knees. She pulled back, spreading her thighs and bringing her bum up off the bed, turning her hairy pussy into target, allowing me really pound into her. I summoned up all my strength - banishing the need to cum to the back of my mind - and went into her with renewed vigour, my hips smacking into Erica’s rounded bum cheeks with bruising force, balls bouncing off them, burying my dick to the hilt with every stroke, revelling in the lubricous delights her pussy was bestowing on my aching soldier.

“Oh Cash!” Erica’s eyes rolled back in their sockets, her head bouncing off the pillow in time with my thrusts. “Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me!”

She looked to be approaching the end, but wasn’t done yet. As I rutted away, gasping for breath, Erica slid her hands down her calves, pulling her legs still further back until she had damn near folded herself in half. I went forward with her, weight spread between my hands and my toes, and she rested her ankles on my shoulders. We were face to face now, hers a contorted mask, flushed almost purple, eyes screwed up, mouth wide open alternating between gasping for breath and screaming with delight as my overtaxed dick sawed in and out of her as fast and hard as I could go.

“Yes! Just a bit more! I’m almost there! Don’t stop!”

I couldn’t tell you how long we fucked like that. I guess it can’t have been long - I don’t know how long she could have held that position and, however much I think of my own prowess, I really couldn’t have kept going for much longer. Erica’s cries had been getting more and more urgent and then suddenly...

“Oh darling!!”

With extraordinary flexibility, she unhooked her legs from my shoulders and wrapped them tight around my hips with a sudden tug that knocked the breath out of her and drove me to the very bottom of her vagina.

“Oh! Oh! OH!”

Erica always came impressively, but this one was spectacular.

Suddenly she grabbed my head and whispered, “Cum with me Cash! Dammit, I want it all.”

At that point I didn’t have a lot of choice left to me, but it was nice to be given permission.

“Oaaahh!” I exploded into her over and over, feeling as if I was turning my balls inside out. A tidal wave of pleasure seared through me, hot and intense like my whole life was passing out the end of my dick. I found myself gasping, struggling to breathe through the almost suffocating pleasure. Then a second wave hit, just as pleasurable, but more relaxing - sweet, sweet release and relief. I had done it. I had ridden the dragon and lived to tell the tale.

I rolled off Erica and lay beside her, getting my breath back, letting the pleasure that still suffused my body settle into a delicious warm afterglow.

“Fuck me, you’re amazing!” I don’t often give praise because, frankly, I’m an arrogant son of a bitch, but this was some of the best sex I’d ever had.

“Right back at you.”

Erica was in a similar position to me; lying flat, staring at the ceiling, a huge grin on her face, her tremendous titties heaving with exertion. But this was still Erica - she reached across to where my exhausted dick lay limply across my thigh. Thanks to our activities the night before, it had been raw when I awoke, now it looked like it had been skinned.

“He needs protein,” Erica smiled, squeezing my flaccid organ. “Order us breakfast.” She sat up brightly. “I’m going to have a shower. Then we can think of some other games to play.”

She bounced off the bed and walked over to the bathroom. Even now, I couldn’t resist following her bare backside with my eyes, memorising it, because I knew that I was never going to see it again.

As soon as the bathroom door was closed I was up out of bed, into my clothes, out of the bedroom, though the living room and out the door. The quick escape is a manoeuvre I’ve perfected over the years, and stopping to think about what you’re leaving behind is fatal. Fun though this had been, I certainly didn’t want it developing into a relationship, I’ve had enough of that game in my life, it’s one at which I can never win. Besides, I had a job to go to, and today that involved sitting behind my desk with a bag of ice between my legs.

All in all I thought it had been a pretty good night; completed a job for a client and got spectacularly laid. Now however, things started to go wrong. The moment I set foot outside the hotel, a hand fell heavily on my shoulder.

“Mr Morgan?”

I turned to find myself face to face two men who, despite their casual clothes, had ‘police’ written all over their faces.

“Sorry, you’ve got the wrong guy,” I said. There’s no harm in trying.

“Back in the hotel please, sir.”

My cunning ruse having failed, I walked with the two men back into The Regent, wondering what I might have done - or at least what they might have known about. Our little procession entered a disused office on the ground floor, furnished with nothing but a desk and two chairs.

“Wait here.”

“For what?”

The door closed. I tried the handle more out of something to do than because I thought there was any chance that it might be unlocked. It wasn’t. I sat down to wait - tired, hungry and a little nervous. Eventually the door opened.

“Cash.”

As I think I mentioned earlier, I used to be a policeman. I was pretty good at it too, but there was some unpleasantness (no need to go into details) which prompted me to leave the force and turn my hand to private eyeing instead. The man who now entered, with a face like a constipated rat, was an old colleague of mine. We’d started together but I had always been the golden boy, until the ‘unpleasantness’. He was now an inspector.

“Liam,” I nodded (this being his name - Liam Curtis).

“Inspector Curtis.”

“Then it’s Mr Morgan.”

Curtis gave a thin, humourless smile and seated himself opposite me. Wordlessly he opened a file and glanced through it at some pictures, keeping them hidden from me - classic interview technique.

“Same old Cash, I see,” he said finally.

“What are you talking about?” I’d been wracking my brains and, while there were lots of little everyday legal infringements of which I was guilty, I couldn’t think of anything big enough to warrant the police renting a hotel room just to catch me.

“Mrs Burton.”

The name meant nothing to me. “I’ve got a lot of clients on.”

“I doubt that,” sneered Curtis. “Mrs Erica Burton? You must take first names even if the surname escapes you.”

The first word that hit me of course was ‘Mrs’. I’d be lying if I said she was the first married woman I’d slept with - not even nearly - but do I prefer to know these things going in. The second word that hit me was ‘Burton’. Not an uncommon name, of course, but I could think of one Burton who might explain Curtis’s interest. Surely I couldn’t be that unlucky?

“I know an Erica,” I nodded. “Met her last night.”

Curtis nodded back. “Yes. We are aware that you ‘met’ her.”

“What I’m saying is,” I went on, “if she’s mixed up in anything illegal, I’m not involved. I’ve known her less than twelve hours.” Even if it felt like more.

“We know that too.”

He was enjoying this way too much and my heart sank lower. It was starting to look distinctly as if I could indeed be that unlucky.

I forced a laugh. “I’m probably being paranoid here - I mean there’s loads of Burtons out there - but Erica couldn’t be related to Jamie Burton could she?”

Curtis nodded, relishing every moment. “His wife. Nice to know your dick’s still getting you into trouble.”

For those who don’t remember, Jamie Burton was... let’s call him a mobster. At the time of this story he’d been on the run from the police for about six months, hiding out somewhere, wanted on 7 charges of murder, 9 of conspiracy to commit murder, 5 of aggravated assault and more. And that was just the stuff they had evidence on. Bottom line: if you wanted to paint a picture of the last man in the world whose wife it was a good idea to screw, then that picture would be of Jamie Burton.

“Thanks for the warning,” I said, starting to get up. “I’ll be sure to keep my distance.”

Curtis laughed. “Sit down Cash. You really think that’s why we stopped you?”

“No, but a man can dream.”

“Burton is a jealous man,” Curtis went on, ignoring me. “Who wouldn’t be with a wife like that? Especially since he can’t get near her, cos he’s on the run and she’s under constant police surveillance.”

I thought back to last night: for a highly sexed woman like Erica an absent husband left her with an itch she couldn’t scratch. Last night I’d helped her to finally scratch the hell out of it.

“And we’re not the only ones watching her,” Curtis went on. “Burton’s asked his friends to keep an eye on his old lady. If they find out that she’s screwing around then Burton will be back here in no time.”

I shook my head. “He wouldn’t be that dumb. He’d get his ‘friends’ to deal with guy.”

Curtis, still smiling like a Cheshire cat, shook his head back at me. “On past form we know Burton likes the personal touch in this sort of situation.”

“Past form?”

“I hate to break the news to you, but you’re not the first man Erica has stepped out with. I’d tell you what happened to the others but I don’t want to ruin your day.”

“You’re all heart.”

Curtis grinned still wider. “The good news is that now, thanks to you, we have the inside track. Just keep sleeping with her and when Burton shows up, we’ll be there.”

“You want me to be bait?!” Today had gone downhill spectacularly fast.

Curtis shrugged. “Given the number of other men’s women you’ve screwed, I’d think you’d be happy to do it for a good cause for once. There’s men who’d give their right nut for a chance with Erica Burton.”

“My right nut maybe. Not my life.” Some decisions, even my dick gets overruled.

Curtis leaned back in his chair. “Cash, how can I put this: one way or another, Jamie Burton is going to find out that you fucked his wife. Work with us, and when he tracks you down we’ll be there. Alternatively you can just hope that he’s a nice forgiving sort.”

I had one last try. “I just walked out of a hotel suite without so much as a goodbye, I don’t think she’s going to be happy to see me again.”

Curtis shook his head smugly. “Actually you left a note for her. With your phone number. We’re watching her all the time, Cash - this is her favourite hotel. We had a nice note from you on her pillow before you even reached the ground floor.”

I was beaten. “Do I get paid?”

Curtis laughed. “For screwing Erica Burton? No, you don’t get paid!”

To be honest, I wasn’t keen to be working for the police again anyway, so the money wasn’t a huge problem. But there was one thing that was bothering me. “When you say you’re watching her all the time...”

Curtis raised an eyebrow. “She made you work, didn’t she?”

The call from Erica came that afternoon.

“Hey there, lover. Sorry you had to run this morning.”

“Me too,” I lied. “I don’t usually just up and leave a girl like that.” Another lie. “If you never wanted to speak to me again I’d understand.” I knew that Curtis would curse me for that, but I was anxious to be out of this dangerous assignment.

Erica laughed. “If you do it to me again then I’ll put you across my knee, but for now I’d rather have dinner.”

“Sure. When?”

“Tonight.”

I’d hoped that she’d give me a night off to recover, but apparently Erica couldn’t go 24 hours without me. Which, as ever, was flattering.

“Works for me. I’ll book someplace nice.” I could always send the bill to Curtis.

“I like the Regent. You just get your sweet self round to my room at seven this evening. Don’t be late.”

I arrived at seven on the dot, but unless the Regent had a more relaxed dress code than you’d expect for that kind of hotel, Erica wasn’t ready, she wore skin-tight jeans and a tiny T-shirt that was doing its best to contain her breasts.

“I feel over-dressed,” I joked.

Erica shook her head. “Don’t be silly. Our table’s not booked till nine. I’ve got plenty of time.”

“Nine? Why’d you get me round here at seven?”

Erica pushed me back onto the sofa and began undoing my belt.

“Don’t ask silly questions, Cash.”

For the next hour and a half, a good time was had by all. Erica rode me as if she was breaking horse, squealing to orgasm every ten minutes or so. A tip for any men reading: rather than all that tedious reciting the alphabet backwards or trying to name England’s 1966 world cup squad, just keep thinking about the possibility of an armed mobster crashing through the door - best distraction technique ever.

At eight thirty Erica finished me in her mouth, then bounced to her feet and tripped off to shower and put some clothes on, leaving me to pour myself a drink and find out if I could still walk. Half an hour later, she re-emerged and despite the fun of the last few hours, it was a sight that had my dick stirring back to life again. Erica wore the littlest of little black dresses, gravity-defyingly strapless, her breasts eagerly spilling out. It terminated right at the top of her thighs, the bottom hem tracing the under-curve of her fabulous bottom, to which the material clung like a second skin. Her long, tan legs scissored elegantly as she walked, displaying their perfect shape and fascinating muscularity, high heels making her calves pop.

“What do you think?” she asked, doing a little spin and knowing full well what I thought.

“I think, dressed like that, you’re going to have trouble sitting down. I know I am.”

We headed out.

Now, this may surprise you to learn, but I have a moral code. Admittedly I don’t always abide by it, but I always feel bad when I don’t. Which, I think we can all agree, makes me one of the good guys. One of the main tenets of that code is that I don’t lead women on, I don’t let them think we’re in a relationship when all I want is to get laid. I’m not that kind of guy. So, of course, that had been bothering me since Erica suggested dinner. Thus far our ‘relationship’ had been one marathon fuck session, and I was happy for it to remain that way (very happy). It was bad enough that I was using her to help the police snag her husband, but the idea of emotions being involved really worried me. Possibly I gave off some vibe to that effect or possibly it was on her mind too, but soon after we arrived in the hotel dining room she raised the subject.

“Hope you don’t think the whole ‘out to dinner thing’ means we’re getting serious.”

“I did wonder why you suggested IT!”

I practically cried out the last word because Erica’s foot, now minus its shoe had burrowed into my crotch.

“I know it’s wicked,” smiled Erica as her toes awakened my sleeping beast, “but I love public places.”

“Glad it’s not getting serious,” I managed over dry vocal cords.

Erica shrugged. “I like you fine. But it’s him I love.”

The ball of her foot ground into my swelling member to make her point.

“Open your flies,” Erica breathed.

I did as I was told.

They say that women are better than men at multi-tasking and Erica certainly gave me reason to believe it. Through starter and main course this wonderful woman treated my confined penis to the best foot-job I’ve ever had, while above the table she ate and chatted as if nothing else was going on. I was probably slightly less successful at keeping my cool, but I don’t think that was all my fault; Erica managed keep me at a constant roaring hardness and only ever inches away from losing my load. As always with Erica, I got the impression this was a test, and now, with our dessert order placed, she stood and smoothed down her tight little dress.

“I’m just popping to the Ladies.” She leaned down to whisper in my ear. “Give it 2 minutes, then come find me.”

She strolled off, and I followed her with my eyes. I would have followed that backside off a cliff.

Two minutes passed quickly, as I struggled to get my dick under control enough to make it from table to toilet without having to hold a menu in front of it –no easy task since I knew what was waiting for me. Eventually I lurched, slightly hunched over to the toilets and, checking to make sure I wasn’t being observed, ducked into the Ladies. Instantly a hand shot out and dragged me into a cubicle. Erica knocked me back against the door, kissing me hard, her tongue wild in my mouth. With one hand she locked the door behind us, with the other she eagerly lowered my zipper, reached in and yanked out my straining organ. She gave me a final kiss and a wicked grin, then held a finger up to her lips and turned around to place her hands on the cistern, thrusting out her backside.

I wasted no time, quickly tugging the tight material of her dress up out of the way and revealing about an acre of firm backside bisected by a string thong. I dragged the thong to one side - it was barely in the way but I liked the way it looked, cutting across one tan, oval cheek.

“Hurry up,” giggled Erica under her breath. This was one time when she did not want the marathon.

I forced down the head of my painfully erect shaft, thrust in without preliminary and proceeded to fuck her for all I was worth. Overall it was short, hard and animal, but none the less enjoyable for that. We came simultaneously, teeth clenched to stop ourselves from crying out.

“Come on,” urged Erica when we had made ourselves presentable. “I fancy dessert. I need sugar after that.”

We slipped out of the toilets, observed by a young waiter who gave me an impressed thumbs up.

Dessert was nice, as you’d expect from a place like The Regent, but the evening wasn’t over yet.

“Let’s have a night cap in my room,” Erica drawled seductively.

“Sounds good.” I didn’t know how much more of her I could take but I was keen to find out - Liam Curtis and Jamie Burton were a thousand miles from my mind.

As soon as the lift doors closed, Erica’s hand slid down my trousers, grasping my flaccid soldier and squeezing; she’d have him back to fighting fit by the time we reached her floor.

“It was wrong of me to make you do it in the toilet.”

I really hadn’t minded but she seemed to be going somewhere so I nodded. “Very wrong.”

“I’ve been a bad girl,” Erica went on. “I bet what you’d like to do now is put me across your knee,” her limpid eyes met mine as she enunciated the next words with deliberate intent, “and spank me.”

I shrugged as nonchalantly as I could. “There’s a whole list of things I’d like to do to you, but spanking is certainly in the top ten.”

As the lift bell rung and the doors opened, Erica leaned close to me to whisper, “Tonight, we’re going to do the whole list.”

What can I say? We gave it a go. If anything Erica was even more demanding and insatiable than the night before, and if that sounds like I’m complaining, then I’m not. It was fantastic. Come the morning we did it once more in the shower before she let me go to work, aching, exhausted, and really quite proud of myself.

I think if I’d said ‘I can’t do tonight’, then Erica would have insisted, just to assert her dominance, and I would have capitulated because I really could not say no to her. But I said nothing, and so she gave us both a night off before calling again the next day.

And so it went. We met up on average every other day; sometimes more often, sometimes less. In a way every time was the same: we met up, we fucked each other’s brains out, I left. But that in no way did justice to what actually went on. Erica was the most sexually creative woman I’ve ever met, she came up with positions that would make the writers of the Kama Sutra throw up their hands and admit they had been beaten. And it was not just the positions; every time we met was an athletic, gymnastic event, a work-out for the whole body and especially one part of it.

All of which was, of course, exactly according to the plan (although by this point I’d damn near forgotten that anyone called Jamie Burton even existed) but after a few weeks I started to notice one little deviation from the plan. I started to like her.

Erica looked like what she was; a gangster’s moll. No two ways about it. She dressed to show off her body, she wore more make-up than was necessary, more jewellery than was tasteful and less clothes than was decent. Anyone seeing her would have written her off as dumb - a gold-digger without two brain cells to rub together and with the emotional maturity of a rabbit in heat. I made all those judgements the second I saw her - it didn’t matter; all I wanted was to get her into bed. We met up only to have sex, but in between sex we talked, and guess what - she was smart. Not Mensa smart maybe, but not Chelsea dumb either. She had a great sense of humour, a taste in food and art that went beyond what cost the most. She owned a pair of rescued donkeys that she visited on weekends.

One night, after we had fucked ourselves into a stupor, I woke to find her seated by the window, quietly crying to herself.

“What’s wrong?”

She started, drying her eyes quickly. “Nothing. Go back to sleep.”

“You can talk to me you know.”

She shook her head. “I really can’t.”

I shrugged. “Well, you can lean on me then.”

I went and sat with her and she cried onto my shoulder for a few minutes. When she was done she looked up at me with wet eyes and gave as pure a smile as I ever saw from her.

“Thanks Cash.”

A girl like that, a girl so sensitive and sweet, deserved better than some two-bit hood. At the back of my mind an idea began to take shape, an idea which I hardly dared admit even to myself. Who knew how she’d ended up with Jamie Burton in the first place, but he was going to prison for the rest of his life, taking most of his crew with him. He was never going to be able to threaten or hurt Erica again. She was going to have another chance at life, and why not with me?

It was one Friday night at The Regent that things came to a head. Erica was running as hot as ever, the moment the door was closed she stripped me of my clothes and pushed me back onto the bed. Her own clothes hit the deck with equal speed and the sight of her fabulous nudity had my dick instantly pointing skywards.

“That’s what I like to see.”

Erica leapt on top of me ravenously and I sucked in breath as she plonked herself down onto my erection without preliminary and leant down to growl in my ear.

“I need it good tonight!”

This important message delivered, she pushed herself upright once more, then, careful not to let me slip from her clinging pussy, swivelled round in her seat so she was facing my feet and I was presented with the magnificent panorama of her backside. She grabbed my ankles and we were off, my eyes glued to the fabulous sight of her arse cheeks smacking into my lower belly. I caught hold of those tanned spheres, running eager fingers over the smooth flesh, across the bounteous contours and down into the deep cleft between them. Breasts are great fun, but give me a good arse any day.

“Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!”

Erica just had no lower gears, she was all or nothing; an epic, no-holds-barred, bone-shaking, bed-breaking, lung-bursting fuck or you might as well not bother.

Tonight, she came faster than usual, squealing in pleasure as she flung herself backwards to lie full length on top of me, wriggling her firm hips against me, massaging my deeply buried dick with her clever pussy muscles. I was in six different kinds of ecstasy, the feel of her incredible cunt sucking and pulling on me, gulping at me, stroking and clinging, squeezing till I ought to burst. What a woman.

Still lying on top of me, Erica pushed her legs between mine, digging her feet into the bed and using them as a pivot to grind herself onto my cock like a pestle and mortar. Her arse cheeks twisted in my lap, moving smoothly, greased by our sweat.

“Arrhh!” I grunted in deferred ecstasy as her elastic pussy screwed my rigid cock, using it to stretch her cunny muscles to new and delicious extremes.

Erica twisted her head around, stretching back to kiss me then bite my lip, tugging on it in wild pleasure.

“Stay with me Cash,” she murmured frantically.

I was doing my best, but she wasn’t making it easy.

Suddenly she stiffened, gasped and flexed her hips up and down in my lap before letting out a strained, keening whine as she came yet again.

Once again I managed to hold on, I was in the mood to really go for it tonight, see just how many times I could make her cum.

“Mmmmm.” That long purr of satisfaction, as she stretched out her limber body like a cat yawning, was a reward in itself. But then she stiffened in a different way. “What was that?”

I had heard the noise too and guessed what it was before we heard the masculine voice from the living room. “Erica!”

Erica leapt off my still erect cock, terror in her eyes.

“Hide!” she hissed with desperate urgency, pointing to the closet.

There was no to wonder where Burton had got the room key. There was no time for clothes - I dived for the closet and got the door closed just as I heard the bedroom door open.

Now, I’ll level with you, this was not the first time I’d found myself naked in a wardrobe or closet or whatever, hiding from an angry husband/boyfriend/father. Every time I’ve feared for my life, but this was the first time that the husband/boyfriend/father was a wanted killer and probably armed. One thing that was the same this time to all the other times, was that my body never seems to appreciate the gravity of the situation. Every time this has happened to me, I’ve been crouched in the cupboard, not just naked, but with a huge erection! For whatever reason (and I guess we’re all turned on by some weird shit) the damn thing will never go down. And the thing is, in this situation, if the angry husband finds you then it’s never going to be good, but the one thing guaranteed to make it worse is if you’re also sporting a hard-on.

I wasn’t catching much of the conversation that was going on behind the door but the voices were getting closer. Desperately I looked around, searching for anything that might be some use in a fight, but hotel wardrobes don’t offer much in the way of weaponry.

Seconds later the door opened and I was face to face with Jamie Burton. Some people have a face that just looks like a mug-shot, and Jamie Burton was one of those, his head was almost square, flat-topped and wide jawed, his grated teeth uneven, his nostrils flared and his eyes filled with fire and hate.

“Gotch...!”

He stopped mid-word as those hate-filled eyes shifted downwards. I think he had expected to find someone naked in the wardrobe, but perhaps not someone with my current, and undiminished, issue. It only distracted him for a moment, but that moment was all I needed. I punched Burton as hard as I could and he reeled backwards. As he fell, I sprang out of the wardrobe on top of him, pushing him to floor and grabbing his gun hand. In fights between a clothed man and a nude man, you absolutely want to be the nude one - no matter how life-threatening the situation, the clothed man will always be trying to avoid touching stuff.

I wrenched the gun from Burton’s hand and pistol-whipped him across his angular jaw. As he fell back to the floor, unconscious, the door burst open and Curtis rushed in with two policemen.

“Jamie Burton you are under... Oh for fuck’s sake Cash, put a robe on!”

Ten minutes later I had the robe on, Burton was on his way to a cell, and Curtis and I were in the lobby talking.

“You got the bastard,” Curtis smiled. “We owe you.”

“Damn right you do! Why the hell didn’t you tell me he was in town!”

Curtis shrugged. “You might not have gone round if you’d known. What are you complaining about? You’ll get your reward.”

“Reward?” My day seemed to have taken a turn to the good. “How much am I getting?”

Curtis laughed. “Not from us, Cash. The most you’ll get from us is a thank you. I was thinking of the girl upstairs. She’s free now.”

He had a point. This was what I had been waiting for. For the last month, Erica and I had spent a great deal of time together and there was no denying the very real connection we had made. Now I had stepped in and saved her. I was the hero of the hour. Sure, we had come together in a strange way but what did it matter how we met? We had met, and that was all that counted.

And failing that, we always had one thing in common. After all, in a strange way my dick had saved me - didn’t it deserve a reward?

I headed back up to Erica’s room.

“Look, I know tonight was tough...”

“You bastard!”

She slapped me hard enough to rattle my teeth and then kicked me in the crotch hard enough to double me up to the floor.

“I’ve thrown your clothes out the window!”

One thing I forgot to take into account: there really is no explaining the jerks some women fall in love with. And I’ve got three ex-wives to prove that point.

I crawled out into the corridor and sat against the wall with legs splayed waiting for the pain to stop. I guess I probably deserved it. If not from Erica then from plenty of other girls. As I said at the start, I am an idiot with no self-control.