The disco on the beach was quiet on a weekday night in May. Joey nursed a San Miguel. Helen and Harry rocked to Like a Virgin. She danced a lot with her hands and he wondered if the sudden brushes were accidental. He should have known better by now but Mr Donne’s voice in his head reminded him ‘the most dangerous thing to believe is what you want to believe.’ True he knew, in love, war, and business. The crowd thinned until just the two of them were left, Joey out of their minds, Wham in their ears. Helen moved closer. Her body touched his. He smelt the chocolate of the bombadillas on her breath, heard her careless whisper, ‘You make me wet.’
‘Let me feel,’ Harry whispered back, guiding her to the darkest corner. He had form on dance-floors. Pulling her hips back, she put her hand down and opened the front of her jeans. His hand went down as hers came up, a long squeeze, and then on, down by the down. He felt the delicious hot juice and swollen lips. She pressed herself against his fingers. They had stopped pretending to dance and he was nearly bursting his pants.
‘Going to come,’ she breathed in his ear.
‘Let’s fuck,’ he breathed back. She kissed him hard on the mouth, stepped back, zipped up her jeans, said, ‘Follow me, not too close. The night…’
‘Has a thousand eyes.’
Helen was walking along the shore, shoes in hand, bare feet plashing. ‘Don’t know about this,’ she said as Harry caught up. ‘Haven’t done it before.’
‘Cheated. You?’ She knew he was married from the information exchanges over dinner. He shrugged. ‘What’s cheating?’
‘Sex with someone else.’
‘You never thought about it?’ he challenged.
‘Thinking isn’t touching.’
‘Never kissed?’ She didn’t reply.
‘Kissing’s touching,’ he said. ‘Who draws the line? Kissing, watching, wanking…I knew a teacher shagging his student. When his wife found out he said he hadn’t cheated because he didn’t come inside her.’ Helen laughed. He liked her laugh. Silvery tinkly, different from her husky voice. A slight breeze blew blonde about her face.
‘He doesn’t like me wanking. Won’t let me have my fantasies. I loved telling my fantasies to my first boyfriend. Older guy, let me express myself.’
‘Oh, you know, bondage, rape, horses.’
Harry didn’t know. ‘Horses?’
‘Stallions, mounting me from behind, stretching me to the limit. Unicorns. Started with my pony. Used to ride it bareback, feel its spine up me, like I was riding Pegasus.’
‘My sister was in the Pony Club.’ No, wrong thought, banished.
‘We’re there,’ she indicated a narrow path in trees at the edge of the beach. ‘Should go in. He doesn’t trust me.’
‘PMS. Paranoid Machismo Syndrome. Sometimes when I’ve been out with clients he sniffs my underwear. If it wasn’t for the money I’d be gone.’
‘Maybe he just likes to sniff ’em’?
‘Then he’d sniff ’em other times too, wouldn’t he?’
‘I guess.’ They reached the trees, went a few steps along the path. Ahead he saw the outline of a house, dark against the sky as the stars lost their sparkle.
‘Don’t come any further, Harry.’ Not don’t go any further. She kissed him softly on the lips, like a goodnight promise. More to come? He to come? He put his arms round her. She stiffened, then relaxed. He relaxed, then stiffened.
‘Oh,’ she murmured. ‘That feels nice.’
‘I want you, Helen,’ he said.
‘Have to go,’ she said, turning around in his arms.
‘Have to come,’ he replied, running his hands under her shirt, lifting her bra and clasping her breasts. Not so big but nice fit. Her shoes fell to the ground. He could feel her hand tugging at her zip then going into her panties. He put one of his hands over it and felt her rubbing herself. Her other hand was on the breast he wasn’t squeezing, the back of her head on his shoulder as she stood jerking, her gasps loud in his ear. He brought both hands to her waist, pushed her jeans and underwear down to her knees, and bent her forward. She put her hands behind and spread her cheeks.
‘Fuck me, Harry.’ It was the work of a moment to free his raging hardness and enter her and just a few hard pumps for them to reach ecstasy together. He clamped his hand over her mouth to stifle her cries as his juice ran down her legs. They stood enjoying the joined-up moment before erection subsided and slipped out. She turned, took his face in both hands and kissed him again. ‘Needed that. Thanks,’ picking up her shoes, stumbling towards the house, pulling up her jeans…
*Yes, there’s more to this story, and many more Erotic Adventures of Captain Harry West, so read on with a click here!
Extract from a Story a Week for 27 Weeks, so come back soon – or take the short cut and buy them now with a click!
Coming Soon: Taoist Tantra, Sexual Secrets of Love