Chapter 13 … Frankie comes for Super

The mechanical thud of the barge’s engine reverberated across the surface mist in the warm, summer evening air and dissipated each side of the Thames in the chaos of London’s hubbub. The vessel’s pace was kept diligently within the speed limits to avoid attracting unwelcome attention. The mafiya foot soldier at the helm was not experienced in the currents and quirks of the river, and despite years spent on his fishing boat on the Black Sea, his expert seamanship was no substitute for internationally recognised Thames piloting qualifications.

Petruso Knishovo and Borysko Boyko followed the bulky garbage-disposal craft from a safe distance off its stern in the Ukrainian’s cabin cruiser. The crime tsar closely monitored their position on the cruiser’s GPS navigation equipment. Communication with the soldier in charge of the barge was kept to a bare minimum over short-wave radio means of a prearranged succession of coded, specific one word commands, in basic English, to allay suspicion if intercepted by the river patrols.

I think this idea will really piss the English off, Petruso, but I still do not think it will help Vanko to get his Tatyana back. She is dead and gone, and the whole idea, it is just so – so risky.’

The mafiya captain almost used the word “crazy” and just managed to choose the word “risky” in the nick of time. He wasn’t sure the crime tsar’s obsession to create the proposed degree of murder and mayhem wasn’t taking revenge just a tiny bit too far. Sure, he ached to get back behind the controls of a helicopter such as the Black Shark. But the prospect of flying it across London to release a bunker-buster in the centre of the capital became more daunting by the minute. After 9/11 and the atrocities of July 7 in 2005 there was no telling what anti-aircraft precautions were on standby to protect England’s capital city, especially the seat of British Parliament. And in all probability, the range of anti-aircraft defences in the square mile of Westminster was more substantial than those guarding against ground attack. It was a risk with the odds stacked very much against him. There was little prospect the military hierarchy would chicken out and decline to use such weaponry as was required if push came to an existential shove.

I thought this country would be great pickings, Borysko, for me, for us all. But it is shit here, just as corrupt and a much, much more depressing way of life than in our reborn homeland. I have got no time for world politics, my friend, after the troubles in our lifetime. But I think now that much of the trouble and struggle we suffered during the death throes of Russia and our brother Soviets were brought on us by the likes of the duplicitous, mealy-mouth bastards in this godforsaken country. We will all be better off back in the Ukraine, my friend; the devil you know and all that. But, and I tell you I think it is right, we must do this thing, so let us do it first – then...’

Okay, but how are we going to lay that much explosive quickly enough and on target without the river police spotting us do it, Petruso? I know we will have dusk on our side, but with radar surveillance, the minute we stop the barge so far up river and start discharging, the Marine Support Unit will be on to us in a flash.’

We shall not even have to reduce our speed any more than it is, Borysko. Where the explosives sit in relation to the underground railway tunnels below is not critical to within a twenty five metre tolerance. When we get under Waterloo Bridge and pass Royal Festival Hall, I will give the signal. Burian will open the bottom of the hold and expel the cargo immediately at my instruction when we get alongside. It will enable me to pinpoint the position accurately on GPS, and tomorrow you can do the business with our little surprise package in the Black Shark. Can you imagine the shit flying when we drain their precious fucking River Thames just a cock-spit away from their Houses of Parliament, Borysko? While the police are trying to cope with the chaos and damage in and beneath the city centre, you and me will be paying a visit to the bastards in Romford with Vanko and the rest of your men. Once I am in control out there, you and your guys can get to the Revalyutsiya. I do not think the British intelligence services have made a connection to me with the vessel yet, I am very sure they have not.’

The unmistakable outline and service lights of London’s Millennium Dome were visible from the control deck of the cabin cruiser.

Soon we will be counting bridges, Borysko – I think it is five bridges to go and our job on this stinkhole of a river is done, my friend. We will go back, we will drink and we will have some hot sex with some nice big Ukrainian girl. I have invited Ilyana to come – but she does not need any invite to come, that one. She has a real beautiful big pussy and she comes like Niagara – soon as she sees a stiff cock.’

Petruso laughed, cupped his hands to illustrate the size of the woman’s genitals.

She can fuck for the Ukraine Olympics, that one; in fact she can easily fuck the entire Olympic team non-stop. She will be bringing a few of her cock-happy pals to join in the celebration. Tonight we eat, we drink and we fuck till we sleep. Tomorrow we fight – and win.’

When the mini convoy passed under Blackfriars Bridge, Petruso edged the cruiser closer to the barge. Under Waterloo Bridge and past the Festival Pier he drew abreast of the barge. He grabbed the shortwave handset and winked at Borysko. ‘Showtime, Burian,’ he said and winked again at Borysko, ‘Over and out!’

Copy that, daddy-o.’ replied Burian.

The barge lurched violently. The water beneath the lumbering refuse disposal vessel boiled. A muddied hue was the only visible, short-lived effect created by the surge of turbulence as the bales of ammonium and urea nitrate composition were released to sink to the river bed.

Burian cut the engine of the barge and it drifted slowly under Lambeth Bridge and towards the embankment on the north side of the river. It grounded in the shallows at the riverside and he jumped from the vessel and clambered up onto Millbank to meet the Humvee for his getaway.

Petruso waited his opportunity for a sufficient gap in the river traffic and carefully manoeuvred the cruiser through a one-eighty degree turn beneath the London Eye, keeping watch for any sign of attention from the river police. He charted the area of riverbed with a sonar scanner and double-checked the coordinates of the submerged explosives on the chart with those for the rail tunnel beneath.

Spot on,’ he said. ‘Waterloo will never be more apt a name come this time tomorrow, my old friend.’ Petruso opened the throttle on the cruiser. ‘And Mister Freddy Field will have met his Waterloo – and we kill two birds with one stone.’ He clapped his hands at the thought of the good things to come. Ilyana to fuck tonight and tomorrow the beautiful bitch Carla’s pussy would be his to eat and then fill with his seed. This time tomorrow night, London will be in chaos, the Fields will be dead, all but the beautiful pussy, Carla. She will be offered the trip to Ukraine with him and filled with his seed till she gives him the son he wants. If she does not like the idea, she can die at the will of his men when they have had their way with her.

*

Tina Field looked across the dining table at her husband. ‘You haven’t answered me yet, Frederick. Who was the woman here earlier with Minas Elliot? I was not made aware that he has taken to heterosexual associations, but I must say the two of them made a happy looking couple and they certainly looked very comfortable together.’

Freddy knew for certain the odd couple had been more comfortable on their arrival than he felt at that moment with his wife, even if he had not allowed the happiness to be shared by them for long. He mumbled something unclear. A portion of quail dropped back on his plate in his panic and confusion, the disobedient morsel splashed the immaculate white linen tablecloth with the wine sauce.

The evening meal was the first occasion Freddy and his wife had come face to face since she walked away from him with Carla in disgust that morning. The two women had then spent most of the day in the chapel with Philip’s body. Her question made it plain she had seen Doc Elliot and his odd looking female companion arrive.

Freddy fiddled with his eye-patch and reached for the asparagus dish. He was anxious for time to think his answer through properly. The truth would hardly be acceptable to Tina. He had felt like murdering the traitorous poof, but indispensable under-the-counter medical skills like his were hard to come by. The repulsive, fascinating piece of bony muff would do to while away a long, frustrating wait for the morning; might offer some small recompense. But to let Tina even suspect the skinny bitch was tied up in the converted barn at the back of the stables, awaiting his depraved whim, to be fucked, mutilated and thrown to the dogs in the pit, would certainly dampen his chances of redemption in the eyes of his wife and daughter.

Carla found it hard to believe the family’s patriarch was having such difficulty in giving an answer to such a simple question. She could not remember a time when her father was so lost for words.

Billy and Terry looked at each other. They knew where Stella was, but not why or what the Old Man’s heinous intentions were.

I don’t believe I saw her leave with Minas, either,’ Tina said.

Freddy thought fast. ‘Minas had to go out on some business, an’ unfortunately it seems his lady friend, Stella, would have been a hindrance. I told her she could stay in the Lodge House. Doc was a bit nervous about leavin’ her back at his place, after the Russkis’ raid on it.’

The truth of the matter was Minas had been delighted to get away with his life, and departed as quickly as he could. When Freddy learned of his participation in the ill-fated organs transfer business he knew he would have been killed on the spot had they been in any place but the Manor. The wily vet had suddenly cared little for what might happen to Stella, and even less for her Pink Dahlia, if sacrificing her to the don’s crazed lust meant he would preserve his own skin.

I think I shall walk over there and introduce myself,’ Tina got up. ‘We can’t leave her over there like this. You have no idea how to entertain a guest. She must be getting quite lonely – and, my goodness gracious, she must be starving, poor woman.’

Fuck my horrible bleedin’ luck, thought Freddy. The evening’s promised programme of late night entertainment is well and truly up the Swanee now.

No, don’t be puttin’ yourself out, my Lovely Lady, sit down. I was about to send our Terry over there to ask her to join us, seein’ as it seems Minas has been detained.’

He looked at his son, ‘Run over there an’ give the lady our apologies, boy, an’ tell her she must come over here. Your mum’s always got plenty to go round, an’ I’m sure Ms Dahlia won’t mind missin’ out on the soup.’

Stella was traumatised by the situation, she was extremely frightened, but she was not stupid. There was little difference, apart from the time element and pain factor as far as the infernal big picture was concerned, between dying on the spot if she refused to cooperate or waiting to be defiled and then ripped apart while still alive and screaming her head off. At least there was some glimmer of hope in playing the proposed ridiculous charade to please the man in whose hands her survival had come to rest. She was eager to agree to any suggestion Terry Field made, anxious to grasp any opportunity, no matter so slight, to live and fight another day, or hour, as the case may be. So, freed of her bonds and refreshed as much as was possible with cold water at a wash-hand basin and extremely aware of the danger she was still in, she preened herself and entered the Fields’ dining room to join the infamous family for their evening meal. At least and at last she was about to meet the bitch who ultimately was responsible for her present dilemma, the mysterious Tina Field.

Tina was profusely apologetic to Stella for subjecting her to such remiss treatment and was the epitome of the perfect hostess. There was no way she could possibly suspect how her amiability and hospitality tortured the mixed-up feelings and created havoc with the emotions of the strange visitor. It occurred to Tina that the name Stella Dahlia was perhaps a tad tainted with shades of an old black and white, Robert Mitchum “Marlowe” thriller. And it was so obvious the strange woman was totally naked beneath a thin dress which merely served to emphasize what lay beneath was best hidden. If ever a woman were built to tempt the presence of any Y chromosomes in the likes of Minas Elliot, it would be someone like Stella Dahlia, with her androgynous form. But, try as she might, all attempts to engage her guest in any conversation resulted in stubborn response just too reminiscent of Billy’s recently discarded monosyllabic mode.

Stella worked hard to respond civilly to the bitch who had been the covert keeper of her husband’s heart for so many years of deceit. It was not exaggeration when she reminded herself that her life depended upon disguising her loathing for the woman. The longer the masquerade could be played out, the better her chance of remaining in one piece. She did not fancy being fucked by the club-like thing the beastly Freddy Field had flashed when he threatened her earlier, and the thought of the fate the horrible man had promised for her afterwards made her want to scream and puke.

Freddy tried nobly to apply the required amount of enthusiasm to finish his meal and behave prudently in the company of their guest. But his tolerance for female company dissolved quicker than the Alka-Seltzer he had to take for his sudden and unaccountable attack of heartburn. He welcomed the ritual of brandies at the table. The idea of incarcerating the skinny bitch again must be dumped, for all purposes of discretion; certainly the least said on the matter the better while Tina was around. An opportunity to salvage that particular spot of light entertainment might present itself later. Instead, while Tina was preoccupied with Stella’s next course and behind Carla’s back, he put a finger to his lips, sliced it menacingly across his throat and deemed it sufficient encouragement to ensure the skinny bitch’s silence. He took his leave with his cigar, brandy glass and his sons and went to the summerhouse to summon his captains and soldiers from their duties around the estate. It was imperative they thrash out a strategy to meet all eventualities in the inevitable raid Petruso would make.

Tina could not lose a nagging thought she was missing some vital clue which would fill the blank part of the picture this unfathomable woman painted in her cognitive memory. The name, Stella, it matched her mind’s image of a very slim and fashion ignorant woman, but there was no memorable link to connect such an image to someone like Minas Elliot.

Carla made her excuses and retired to her room, prudently omitting to mention she would while some time away with the aid of her battery toys.

Tina took up her attempts to stimulate some conversation with her guest again. ‘Dahlia, dear – it is a very unusual surname. I can’t say I have ever come across it before meeting you. Is it English – because it has got the distinct ring of a continental name, perhaps it is of Mediterranean origin?’

Stella could not bring herself to believe this cultured, civilised woman was the wife of the abhorrent Freddy Field. It wasn’t possible now to see her as an uncaring and unashamed adulteress and home breaker. But she must be though, she had to be, all of that, or everything that had happened in the last thirty six hours would make absolutely no sense at all. She decided it was time to end the charade and with it her torment and confusion. ‘It is one chosen in a moment of despair and madness, Mrs Field; I think you might know me better by my married name, Cowper.’

The announcement was a bombshell. Tina took some minutes, awkward, thought filled minutes, to find a response.

Stella – of course, that’s it, Tommy’s Stella! I knew your face was familiar, but you are with Minas – I really don’t understand.’ She reached out a hand of sympathy. ‘Has something happened to Tommy? Oh, my God, please tell me my Eric’s Tommy is alright?’

Stella was shocked and puzzled by Tina’s response at learning her identity. It was not the expected reaction of the stereotypical scarlet woman. ‘Your Eric – you mean Tommy’s dead brother Eric? What do you mean, your Eric?’ A wave of nausea took the colour from Stella’s face. ‘You – and my Tommy …’

There’s no me – there’s never been any me and Tommy, dear. He is my closest, dearest friend in the otherwise crazy world of my wild and degenerate family.’ Tina went to the dining room door and checked for eavesdroppers. She switched on the CD player. The silky tones of Andrea Bocelli covered Tina’s voice while she told Stella the story of her lost love Eric. She recounted her insane rebound to a whirlwind courtship and marriage to the young tearaway to-be crime lord Freddy Field, and her sanity preserved by a cherished, secret and enduring friendship with her husband’s arch enemy, Tommy.

Stella was in tears of regret and guilt long before Tina’s tale was completed. The tears washed away some of the weight of the shame she knew she must bear for her misguided animosity for Tina, for the young blonde police-woman she had thought a common tart, for assumption of Tommy’s infidelity. But her conscience was still left to wrestle with an almost twenty four hours of non-stop lust and sexual abandon she had indulged at sight of Philip’s penis, and later while confined with Minas Elliot. As awful as living with the knowledge of her lascivious inner self for the rest of her life might prove to be, there was part of her never going to get over it. The taste of new and foreign pleasures convinced her that Pink Dahlia could not, did not want to be the same innocent, faithful flower ever again.

But we must get you away from here, Stella, dear. If Freddy found out exactly who you are, I hate to think what he would do to you the mood he is in right now.’

Stella thought it a good opportunity to tell Tina exactly what fate had already been decided on for her, but tactfully bypassed Freddy’s threat of a generous portion of coitus as starters.

Tina was horrified. But the violent events of the last few days left her beyond being surprised by the bestial nature of the men in her family. She decided it would be the safest thing for her guest to share her bedroom, and her husband could like it or go lump it.

Stella was shaking with relief and tiredness. But she still thought it wise for the time being not let anybody know about Minas Elliot’s other vital, awful secret.

*

Det Supt Tommy Cowper sighed, threw his shirt onto the ottoman in the corner of his bedroom. He stepped out of his boxer shorts, walked across to the en suite and turned on the water in the walk-in shower. The lukewarm water helped wash away the turmoil of the day, the clammy heat of the evening. And it had been a day of turmoil. DS Dennis and the two Ukrainian mafiya soldiers had been charged under the new anti-terrorism laws and were hospitalised, securely incarcerated in undisclosed detention facilities.

The journey to East India Docks with Frankie had proved fruitless as far as uncovering justifiable cause for assembling a squad to arrest the Fields. Any evidence as to ownership of the lease on the underground operating theatre-come-cryogenic unit was buried in company transfers between African and Caribbean corporations. There was no forensic evidence of value yet, and it would take Serious Fraud Squad weeks to sort out the blind company registrations to determine liability for the premises. The pleasure of jumping on Freddy Field from a great height had to wait.

Doc Elliot’s house, duly taped as a crime scene and just as duly deserted of any police presence, was a wasted journey and still could provide no clue as to Stella or Elliot’s whereabouts.

The redeeming feature of the day was a raid on the Fields’ most profitable whorehouse. A dozen and a half girls of mixed East European nationalities were rounded up, plus the young girl Pavli had been coerced into violating at the Manor. Hopes for her well-being were excellent, due to the small amount of drugs she had had pumped into her system in so short a space of time. With the girl incoherent, there was only his word to substantiate the incident, unless he implicated Pavli. So, once again, a blank was drawn as far as providing him and Frankie with any legal grounds to immediately warrant a search of all Field dwellings and property. And the orders from those on high was to keep a low profile and let CO19, MI5 and the other specialist law enforcement agencies tackle the bomb threat before making any other arrests.

Tommy sighed again as the water cascaded down his body, rinsing it free of the foam and the soothing effects of the shower gel. He put a hand to his testes, searched the heavy sack for sign of anything other than the two legitimate residents. Everything was okay, they hung free, firm, swelled with passion and enthusiastically awaiting employment. He looked down at his penis, the splendid, shiny head still engaged in its current struggle to break free of the protective sheath of foreskin. It had been a long time since Frankie’s hands held it and charged it with so much promise and erogenous energy. Even as he looked, the restless member was inflamed by the exotic memory. It telescoped and expanded before his eyes until the full length and girth of it stood hard, self-supporting, with the water dripping from it like the angry projection of some predatory creature from the deep. He turned the power to full, linked his fingers behind the back of his neck, closed his eyes and leaned his head back. The needles of cool water pounded his face and broad chest.

He did not hear the shower door slide open.

Frankie was surprised and thrilled by the physique of the man under the shower. More pleasing was how well hung he was when his arousal was unfettered by posture, garment or social inhibition. Okay, at work he was her boss, a suit, a middle-aged married man. It was easy to think the other night might have been a lunatic moment of befuddled lust for a lonely man, inspired by confusion and the lure of the healing qualities that a nice-looking man’s hardened cock had for her bruised and battered emotions. But now her lips were parted in a combination of admiration and eagerness.

Frankie was determined to stake her claim to an experience far too unexpected to pass by, and Stella need never know unless Tommy wanted her to. A few stolen hours would be no loss for Stella right now, but would certainly be her gain.

She hastened to unfasten and let the robe around her body slip to the floor, confident in her nakedness. For some seconds she studied the big man in the shower. Her eyes were wide and gleaming with fascination and pleasure at the physical promise of the man she was about to seduce.

His was a healthy frame for a man of his decade, well in the ascendance in the battle against time, with a build she knew would be the envy of many men thirty years his junior. His muscular tone was still giving the inexorable demands of the clock a run for its money, never more noticeable than in the splendid exhibit of erectile, priapic promontory which refused to concede to gravity’s force or the power-shower’s fierce water bombardment. She was not admiring its adequate size any more than the symmetry of its form and proportion. The treat of glorious meat stood out from his firm belly in a superb display of macho sexuality, majestic and unashamed. Her gaze never strayed for too long from the magnificent, expectantly distended measure of his manhood. She could imagine the delicious excitement the shiny ripe, Victoria plum of a helmet on the end of it would make during its frantic sojourn inside her.

In their moment of Friday night, she had thought his was an impressive cock for an older man in that too brief, torrid revelation of mutual desire. But right now she felt she could be looking at a portion of magic muscle fit to equal the fired up pussy buster of any lusty, twenty-year-old buck.

Tommy…’ She spoke softly so as not to startle him, but sufficiently loud to disturb his reverie. She moved into the doorway, she whispered again, ‘Tommy …’ Frankie could resist temptation no longer; she reached out with a hand and clamped her fingers around the rigid base of his mouth-watering hard-on.

What …?’ Tommy’s eyes opened in astonishment. ‘Frankie!’ he was lost for words, and completely taken aback by the assault on so many senses by such a naked vision of loveliness. He was unable to speak for some seconds.

Pavli, where’s Pavli?’

He could think of nothing more sensible to say. He moved to turn off the water. The utter and overwhelming beauty of Frankie in her nakedness choked him. His eyes burned on every curve and angle of her flesh.

Sure, you could pinch an inch in a few places on her voluptuous young body, she was so not one of the modern day skinny Minnies. But there was nothing the realisation of being in the presence of such wonderful nakedness screamed at a man other than it was an irresistible invitation into heaven on earth. Her image woke instincts to bury every inch of lusty flesh he could raise; bury it just as far as he could, for as long as he could, in her. The diadem of neatly groomed pubic hair around the swell of her pussy mound was maddening bait for his aching cock. Her excited nipples enticed and teased from the tilt of her firm, full breasts, begging to be fondled, nibbled and sucked. And this dream of a woman, young enough to be his daughter, was no mirage in some early morning wet dream. She was living, breathing; she had hold and was massaging into his cock even more infuriating ache for her.

She spoke. ‘Leave the water on, lover – and don’t worry about young Pavli, he’s fast asleep, out for the night I would guess. So I reckon it means I got to try and keep this adorable piece of base primitive instinct I’ve got in my hand here big and busy inside my hungry little pussy for the rest of the night.’

She had mischief mixed with lust in her eyes as she rubbed her fingers in the cleft of her vulva and showed Tommy the early juices of her sensual response to his readiness. Frankie stepped in the shower and closed the door with no intention of relinquishing her grasp on his hot, stiff flesh. She eased down onto her knees; her body glistened in the deluge of cool water.

Tommy braced himself; the palms of his hands pressed hard against the tiled walls of the shower as Frankie took hold of his bone hard flesh, licked its end and slowly eased it into her mouth. He moaned as he watched an unbelievable portion of it disappear between her lips.

But I thought you said we were – I mean I thought you said I could …’

She pursed her lips hard on it and withdrew from the shaft of throbbing flesh in her mouth. She paused in the withdrawal to relish the feel of the ridge of its helmet between her lips.

Oh, we will, lover, and you certainly shall have to show Frankie what you are made of. But pussy wants you to put serious time in her with Action Man here, so we’ll just get these lovely balls relieved of all that aching since Friday and they can fill up again and let Action Man stay stiff for a well deserved helping of seconds.’

Tommy was so inflamed he didn’t know if he was coming now, had already come or was coming again.

Action Man?’ He groaned again as he felt her stretch the foreskin tight to his testes and pull back his scrotum. He did know his cock would scream if it could. It was bigger, ached more, throbbed more, was filled and ready to burst more than ever before in his life.

Rumour has it he was some top-gun who wore one hell of a helmet, lover.’ She stopped, lavished the end of his penis with her tongue again. ‘And you got some kind of a top-gun’s helmet on you, Tommy.’

She quietly sung her own words to the title line of the Roberta Flack hit ballad, “First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” between each attack on his inflamed flesh.

First time – ever I taste this flesh...’

Suddenly the rock-hard bar of flesh stopped its rhythmic throb and began the uncontrollable, chaotic spasms of orgasm.

But look at that, oh boy, come, baby, Tommy, are you coming or aren’t you? Let me have it all, lover!’ She agitated his throbbing penis at a frenzied tempo, struggling to keep hold of it in her excitement as the first surge of semen covered her bare breasts and was washed down her body. There were more jerks, more surges of semen. Frankie screamed at the height of her own gratification.

He’s one top-gun certainly don’t look so damned in control right now!’ Her other hand was between her legs, feverishly pleasuring her clitoris.

Tommy’s toes curled, scraped in vain as if to grip and rip the tiles from beneath his feet, his heart jumped and filled his throat and his knees went weak. Great bolts of orgasm’s sweet agony pumped its blessed pain and with it, founts of his seed from deep in his loin, scorched sweet through his penis and out of his body to cover Frankie’s neck and breasts with its opalescence. He could hardly breathe as he watched it slither down her golden skin, flow over the cuddly fold in her tummy, dwell momentarily in the marcelled threads of her pubic fleece and disappear.

After a final, enormous shudder, with his testes spent and fatigued and his hard-on waning, he slid down the wall to join Frankie on the floor.

Frankie was just starting her orgasmic cycle. She climbed onto Tommy, clamped her legs around him and pushed her crotch to his; the full bloomed lips of her pulsing genitals nuzzled and smothered his semi-hard, tingling penis.

Tommy reached up and turned off the water. His hands went to her breasts. His strong fingers vied with his teeth in the passionate urge to pull the nipples from her body, only to lose out to the voracious appetite of his tongue and lips. This intense desire was sated and at the same time tormented in the choice of which sweet, swollen bud to assail.

And then the lips of each found the others’ and they kissed. Breathing was of little importance to either as their tongues fought for possession of the others mouth and throat. The exchange of any of their body-fluids was all that would slake their passion’s growing demands. It was for minutes; which dwelled like hours, which spanned a lifetime. But their first kiss, the contact, the torrent of sexual chemistry between them was all that mattered in the ageless smidgen of eternity.

Frankie whimpered. The urgent and powerful need to vent her next, burgeoning orgasm was twisting her insides. The lump of Tommy’s penis nestling in the lips of her genitals tantalised the hungry muscles in her vaginal tract. Juices continued to flow from her and stimulate the sensitive sexual glands in the twitching beast she held to her genitals. She could feel the interest returning in Tommy’s flesh; slowly, ever so slowly but so surely it expanded and grew as she worked her distended clitoris hard against it.

Tommy groaned. His testes and loin were soaked in the exhilarating warmth of Frankie’s need. He was pleased with the speed at which his hard-on was revisiting, but it seemed to him that Frankie’s passion was overtaking him, burning her up. Having brought her this far, he must not fail her lust. His fingers probed between her taut buttocks, gently, with purpose. The tip of his middle finger found and rested on the delicate buttonhole of her anus.

The additional hint of intrusion made Frankie jerk and twist a little. She groaned slightly, the soft buttonhole dilated in her body’s expectation of penetration, and then squeezed and puckered, nipping the tip of his finger like the bite of a newborn baby. Her body was tantalised with the prospect of an unexpected diversification in its intense desire for invasion. She pushed back, tried to tempt his finger into her anal passage. She whispered, ‘Sorry,’ giggled with embarrassment as her body emitted the lightest wisp of flatulence in startled delight at the exciting new invasion of his strong finger-tip and anticipation of more.

Tommy’s mind went back through the mist of passion to a memory from his first days at high school, when he overheard a teacher speaking of a senior girl: “I’d crawl over broken glass to have a piece of her and use her shit to dress the wounds.” He suddenly knew exactly how the bloke had felt.

Sorry for what, sweetheart?’ he murmured, unconcerned with anything other than satisfying his needs by satisfying hers, no matter what she may want.

Far from damping his ardour, the result her reaction had on Tommy and his penis was instantaneous, animal arousal. His drowsy member sprang to a ferocious, bone hard erection. It plunged into her body as he pulled her forward and onto him.

She moaned as she suddenly realised she had just taken inside her every inch of his hot, hard meat.

Oh, God, Tommy, you’re in me. Tommy is in Frankie, at last. Feels like I’ve got a thousand gigawatts of electric cock inside me. Jump – shag me hard, throw me, throw me, let me – I want to bounce on Action Man. I want to see all of him going into pussy. Oh shag me, just keep ramming. No, don’t listen to me. I do want to see him, get him out – no get him back in, quick, get him right in, push harder, I can feel your beautiful balls, that lovely helmet. Please don’t let your balls empty yet, they’re so hard, so full, just – just keep shagging like this, Tommy. God, you’ve got to make our first shag together the most wonderful shag and we will get better and better.’ She screamed, ejaculated, screamed louder, bit his shoulder and screamed again.

Tommy was three steps beyond ecstasy towards heaven. This naked, gorgeous young girl was coming all over him. Her dirty talk was turning the fire in his loins to an inferno of bubbling lava. He felt his cock was so big he believed he could feel it through the soft wall of her belly, and he felt he had so much desire and gas in his tank he could shag her till the next millennium. And he wanted to. He straightened up with Frankie still impaled, her legs wrapped around him and shuddering in orgasm. He opened the shower door, walked them over to the bed, laid her down and thrust forcefully on her. He looked down to watch with mouth open and wide eyes the straining, moistened shaft of his disappear, reappear, disappear into the magical embrace of her beautiful, juicy honey-trap. The noise of their breathing was lost in the liquid music of pure ecstasy flooding from her luscious vagina.

Oh, God, Tommy, It’s time to give Action Man a bit of a rest,’ Frankie panted. ‘Snog pussy, Tommy. Kiss me down there, drink from my cup – drink on my cum that your wonderful Action Man has made, Tommy,’ she implored, huskily.

Her lush vagina now protested with a distinct pant of audible, delighted protest at the ingress of every energetic thrust of his hard flesh into its constricting throat.

Tommy withdrew his soaked, rampant shaft from her body. He looked down at it with pride, made it jerk a couple of times with the arrogance of a teenager to impress Frankie’s admiring, lust intoxicated gaze. He looked at the succulent, inviting lips of her genitals beckoning him from between the fullness of her firm thighs, got astride her and hungrily thrust his tongue between the pouting labia, burying it in her vagina. The strong scent of her lust filled his nostrils, completely filled his brain, and began to tease his enraptured loins with those first warning messages from his revitalised testes. He turned on the bed and rolled onto his back. With her belly on his chest and her pussy in his face he could see and properly adore that melliferous mystery, let her bathe him in the pheremonal honey of her body’s need and yearning. With his thumbs he gently prised her open wide, exposing every feature of the fully blossomed flower of her feminine allure. His tongue rapidly licked and prodded her clitoris, sank in and out of the juicy folds of her dilated, pouting vagina, caressed the innermost throat of the sensuous flower, and kissed ever more craving into every wild nerve end in her crazed body. She poured and continued to pour out in her unbridled ecstasy.

Now fill me with your cum, Tommy.’ Frankie was using both her hands in a frenzy of feverish adulation on the glistening bulge of testes and penis throbbing right in front of her face. She sucked frantically on its head and pulled his scrotum tight to lengthen the shaft, increase his desire and precipitate his readiness to work his penis to more orgasm. ‘Pump into my belly, Tommy, your lot’s coming. I can feel the end of your cock throbbing, ready to fill me. Your beautiful love potion is going to burst for freedom. And I want Action Man to pump it all into me now, the whole beautiful fucking lot of it – all of it, into my belly.’

Tommy swung round and pulled her legs up. He rammed hard up, fully inside her, with one thrust of his hips, as though he were a measured, tailor-made part of her. He struggled to stay on top of her as she twisted and writhed in the grips of her ardour. He ground and rutted into her without let or restraint, his vision clouded with a purple haze as he felt he was being sucked whole into the gates of paradise through his penis. His body lunged as he started to fill her with cum that had been burning deep down in him since Friday night. He wrestled with her as she twisted on his penis and screamed in time with his lunges and eruptions of passion’s red-hot lava from his body. ‘Bollocks to tomorrow – bollocks to the lot of the bastards, Frankie,’ he gasped. ‘And if this screwed-up world is ever going to end in my time – God, Frankie, I hope you will be coming like this all over me, over my cock and balls, when it does.’ He gave another huge shudder and the final burst of seed paralysed him as it surged through him, and then out, sucked into the liquid depths of the soft, lush maw that gripped his hardened flesh with such need, and such greed.

Hold me tight, lover, and let Action Man rest a little while in pussy – this night is not over by far, yet,’ she panted. ‘And we want to be sure that gorgeous helmet is still in me, just in case the worst does happen and the world does end.’ She chuckled, not daring to tell him exactly where she had been for the last hour and twenty minutes or so, not until she could fully understand it herself when she managed to get her head back down from way up on glorious cloud nine. She pulled his head down to kiss him, locked her ankles behind his back and pushed her crotch gently, rhythmically into his groin, humming the same Roberta Flack tune quietly while she silently prayed for Action Man to hurry up and stand to attention again.