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Ok, those who have been following Sammi and co. know what’s happening and are getting to know the characters. Those of you that haven’t, well that’s tough, but I would suggest you read the earlier parts.
It’s all becoming a little complicated now, so some referrals back to earlier parts might be needed
Preston was a bully. He had always been one: as a kid, at school, when he grew up, in his three marriages and in all the affairs he continually had. He liked to dominate women, he liked to abuse and demean and when the opportunity presented itself, he also liked to hurt them.
He didn’t though, particularly like shagging them, although he liked masturbating on them. And he wasn’t against the odd fling with a rent boy, a male hooker or a fellow thespian with bi or gay leanings. He was a strange man.
But he was a man that women found attractive. Tall and well-built with a surprisingly athletic figure considering he did no sport, did not work out and drank and smoked far too much, he had a mane of blonde hair that was just starting to lose the battle with greyness. Distinguished was the term women used to describe both him and his hair.
He was also rather rich. A lucky break had made his first fortune from a surprising global TV hit show and a good investment his second just before the dotcom crash. In many ways the feature of him that was attractive to a certain type of woman, was his arrogance and total disdain. It was as if he had no interest in them whatsoever, which as people he, of course, didn’t. It was purely a body to torment and a mind to manipulate that he saw in a woman.
He liked Roni though. She was just the type of cheap, scouse slag that appealed to him. She liked being dominated and humiliated, having her fat arse spanked and being insulted, abused and degraded in front of others. She also had no apparent morals, nice big tits and a loose cunt that she was willing to open for anyone he suggested. Just what he liked.
“Where we going?” Roni asked when Preston walked towards a car in the pub car park
“For a drive,” he replied opening the door of the large Mercedes.
“I didn’t know you had a car.”
“I don’t, I rented it.”
“Nice, but why?”
“You’ll see, now get in, shut up, undo that dress and get your tits out.”
“She got in and lay back on the big front seat.”
He got in the other side. “I said get your tits out.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see, but you won’t unless you get your tits out, for I’m not moving until you do. It is dark Roni and you know how much you flashing your tits excite me.” Preston leaned across and started undoing the buttons on her dress. He went on. “And you know how showing them off turns you on, like in the pub earlier.”
It was actually a bit of a relief for Roni when the buttons were undone as it reduced the pressure from the overly tight dress. It was also quite nice to have Preston being fairly tender and gentle towards her as one by one, he undid the buttons down to her waist. He leaned further across and kissed her. Roni opened her mouth immediately and eagerly, she so liked to please him. It felt good as his hand slid into the dress and cupped her right breast; he squeezed and pinched the nipple, which immediately came alive. He repeated that with her other breast and then peeled the dress away.
Her tits, he thought moving back and staring at them, actually looked rather good. Her position on the seat bent backwards slightly, from the waist, but as good as upright, meant they didn’t flop and sag, the dress gave them a little support and her enflamed nipples stood out very clearly.
He bent over, he licked each nipple, he slid his hand up her skirt, he pressed on her thigh ordering her to open them, she did, he shoved his finger against her lips, he took a nipple in his mouth and then in one movement, almost, he shoved two fingers right up her cunt and bit hard on her nipple.
“Ouch, foocking ‘ell Preston, that ‘urt,” she grunted, forgetting the southern, non-scouse accent she tried to maintain with the well-spoken actor.
“Then slut, next time do as you are told when I tell you to do it, ok?”
“Yes Preston,” she said meekly, hurt, but at the same time excited, as the car glided away towards Hampstead Heath. They went along the brightly lit Haverstock Hill, past Hampstead tube station and up past the area near Jack Straw’s castle where the gays go cruising and on towards Highgate.
It was a strange journey for both of them, particularly for Toni. Sitting slightly reclined on the front seat of a big Mercedes with her dress undone and her tits bare was a new experience for her and for Preston come to that. What was probably the most surprising thing, as far as Roni was concerned, was that only twice did she catch the eye of someone who had seen her above the waist, near-nakedness. The looks on their faces were, firstly astonishment and then sheer lust; she liked that. Despite few people obviously seeing her, it was still a highly erotic car trip ataşehir escort for both of them, so much so that Preston got a hard on driving and glancing across at his slave, as he thought of her.
Having done the cruising thing, Preston steered the Merc. along the busy Golders Green road in the direction of Highgate and the cemetery where Karl Marx is buried, Roni recalled for some strange reason. They went past the main entrance, alongside the huge cemetery with the marble angels and other statues, and down a quiet lane to one side. He did a few lefts and rights and they entered a wooded area, probably Highgate woods or common, Roni thought, although she wasn’t that familiar with the area. She had, she suddenly realised almost totally forgotten that her dress was unbuttoned to the waist and that her breasts were bare.
Preston slowed the car obviously looking for somewhere.
“What are you looking for?” Roni asked.
“There should be a fucking car park around here.”
Roni’s heart leaped, “He’s going to fuck me in the car, how sexy and, for him romantic,” she thought.
“There it is,” Roni said pointing out of the window on her side.
“I though it was on my side.”
“Perhaps we came from a different direction,” she offered as they pulled into it.
She was surprised to see several, actually a lot of, cars parked round the perimeter. She was even more surprised to see that some had their internal lights on, some were flashing their headlights and that others had windows open. What was even more surprising was that as Preston slowly steered the car towards an opening where they could park, she saw quite a few people walking around in the car park, they were walking from car to car, looking in, standing staring and waiting.
He stopped the car in a vacant slot with about ten or twelve feet either side of the Merc from the other cars. Preston cut the engine and Roni was immediately hit by the quietness. She looked at him thinking, what the hell’s going on and what the fuck is going to happen now? She hoped that he was going to fuck her, but worried about the number of other cars and the people wandering around. Taking sex risks in places where there was chance of getting caught was one thing, actually getting caught, as seemed highly likely here, was quite another.
“Ok, undo the rest of the buttons,” he said, turning and looking at her.
“Of course here, where else?”
“But Preston there are so many people around.”
“We’ll get caught.”
“What do you mean we?”
“Well if we have sex we’ll……………”
He cut her off. “Who said anything about us having sex?”
“Well, you, I er, um thought, what do you mean?”
“What do you mean, what do I mean?”
“You’re confusing me Preston.”
“Am I? Well you should get a fucking brain shouldn’t you and learn how to use it as much and as well as you use your cunt.”
“Oh don’t say that, I have got a brain.”
“Yes up your cunt you might have, but not in your fucking head. Now unbutton the fucking dress or I’ll rip the buttons off and kick you out of the car and make you walk home.”
Preston leaned over the centre console; he took her chin in his hands, turned her face to look at his and snarled.
“Try me slut, just try me.”
“No, no I won’t.”
“Then undo the dress.”
There was a silence. Both of them looked out around the car park. About half the cars had their internal lights on and Roni could see that several couples were in the back of the cars. It was obviously, at the very least, a lover’s spot or, at another level, Roni conjectured, a place where hookers took their men, but the lights and the people walking around didn’t quite add up.
“When you have undone it Roni, I will tell you exactly what to do and as usual, you will do exactly as I tell you won’t you?” He asked, reaching over and pinching her right tit, a little too hard. “Won’t you?”
“Yes Preston,” Roni whimpered.
Mel was aware that she was going too far. Overdoing it, losing control, straying beyond what was reasonable. Being aware was one thing, doing anything about it; quite another, and that, she wasn’t coping with at all well.
She was drinking too much; she was popping too many pills, smoking too many joints and fucking too many men. She had lost control of her will-power in all areas. That scared her. She wasn’t stupid and it didn’t take a genius to work out that she was on a fast road to self-destruction, welcome Pete Doherty, hello Amy Winehouse!
Who the fuck knows, she often thought. Poor little rich girl syndrome, perhaps?
She got back from Barbados with Sam, totally fucked up. She had been on a binge of rum, ganja, pills, Wilson’s cock and Sammi and had loved every moment of it, but as the pair of them disembarked from the BA business class to which they had been upgraded, Mel had used daddy’s pull, she felt fucking terrible and had kadıköy escort bayan thought that she really had to do something about it.
She would have times, of course, when she straightened herself out and was clean for a few weeks, but so far they had never lasted and she had always drifted back into her old habits. This had, in one way or another, been going on since her late teens, so she had, she reconciled, become used to it; it’s my way of life, she thought, it’s how I am, a drunken, doped up nympho.
Barbados with Sam had turned into a binge of all three of her habits. With an easy supply of white rum, spliffs and Winston’s splendid cock, she had fully indulged herself.
After a few quick rums, she had slept most of the flight home in the plane. They had arranged for a car to collect them from Heathrow, so Mel got back to the flat her family owned that she shared with her brother around two in the afternoon. Although a little jet-lagged, she wasn’t that tired so, like a good girl she dumped all her dirty clothes into the washing machine and got on with the ironing. After a couple of hours, she did feel tired, but managed to resist popping an upper and instead, slipped off her clothes apart from her panties and laid on the bed. She was soon asleep.
Gordon, her brother, with whom she nominally ran the business was also quite a waster, but one with immense charm and charisma. Everybody liked Gordon and everyone was his friend. But then, when you are rich and generous, have a high need to be liked and tend to buy popularity, that’s no surprising.
He was a gambler, horses, cards, roulette even greyhounds, he bet on all of them. At the age of thirty he was surprisingly successful and generally managed to about break-even, well most of the time.
He got back to the flat around six after an afternoon at Sandown races where he had made a few bob. He’d forgotten that Mel was due home today so he was a little surprised when he saw quite a mess of laundry strewed over the floor of the lounge. Realising that it was his sister he called out.
Getting no reply he went to her bedroom and saw the door was ajar. He pushed it open and looked in. He saw her on the bed, asleep. He went to call out, but saw that she was naked apart from a pair of pink, lacy panties. She was very tanned and looked lovely. He went out and got a bottle of red wine and two glasses. He made his way back to the bedroom and sat on the side of the bed as he poured the wine. He put the bottle on the floor and looked at his sister’s slim, lithe, tanned body. He looked at her face, her neck, her tummy, her legs and thighs and at her tits. Especially at her tits. She had tiny tits with pronounced, rather dark nipples. Just as he liked tits, he hated big floppy ones, in fact he hated big and floppy anything. He liked slim girls, girls with hardly or no flare to their hips, girls without womanly curves, girls, in fact, who looked like boys. But girls that had pussies, for he did like shagging them.
He touched Mel on the shoulder. She moaned and moved a little, but showed no sign of waking. He shook her again, harder; still no sign. He sipped his wine and again looked at his sister’s tits, thinking they really are lovely. He shook her again; still no response, so he looked at her tits again. He let his fingers trail from her shoulder onto her collar bone, she had, what did mum used to call them, he thought? Salt cellars. Yes that was it, why? No idea.
She seemed so thin, so gaunt, so slim and slender, just right, just like a young boy.
His hand slid further. It went down her chest. It reached where the slight swell of her breast started, just where, the firmness of the ribs under her chest gave way to the softness of her boob flesh. He let it rest there for a moment or two, simply staring at her tits and occasionally glancing down her body. He could see through the pink panties from this close, but couldn’t see her pubes. “She’s shaved, again,” he smiled, bending and staring closer and seeing the start of her lips through the lacy material.
He couldn’t stop now and his hand moved and covered his sister’s breast. He cupped it, he squeezed it and he caressed it. It felt wonderful.
She moved, groaned and yawned just as she opened her eyes. Gordon moved his hand away.
“Hi, have a good holiday?” He asked, adding. “Welcome home,” as he handed her the glass of wine.
“Hi Gordon, yes lovely, thanks,” Mel replied sitting up and dripping some of the wine onto her chest. A little dribble of red ran between her, nearly flat boobs. She didn’t wipe it up. She also didn’t cover up; she simply sat there, her tits bare, the dribble of wine running down towards the waist of her nearly see-through panties.
“Get up to any mischief out there?”
“Of course, loads.”
“You were careful with the stuff weren’t you?” Gordon asked, the consideration sounding in his voice.
“Yes, of course,” Mel lied. “Had some nice stuff though.
They chatted for a while about her holiday, escort maltepe the business, their parents and Sammi, Mel telling Gordon about the new style of therapy. He was interested in that and in Sammi come to that; he had always fancied her, but for some reason had always held back.
They were onto their second bottle of wine. Gordon was now lying on the bed alongside his sister. When she had got up to have pee, he had slid his hand along the pillow, so when she came back it was around her. He had dropped it onto her shoulder, she had moved closer. He had cuddled her. She had turned half onto her side, the side facing him, her face was close to his, her naked breasts were near, he was staring at them. He looked into her eyes, their gaze met.
“No, Gordon no,” Mel breathed.
“No, I know Mel, I know,” he replied, dropping his gaze to his sister’s chest.
Without thinking or planning, purely involuntarily his hand covered the gap between them and he ran the back of his fingers across her breast, across the slight swell of flesh and across the nipple, which hardened immediately.
“Oh God,” Mel whispered.
“No, not sorry.”
“I know, I shouldn’t”
“We shouldn’t, we shouldn’t Gordon, we really shouldn’t.”
“I know we shouldn’t,” he replied not, though, moving his fingers which were still stroking his sister’s pert breast.
“Oh fuck,” she moaned her hand sliding across the bed and resting on his thigh.
“Oh my darling,” Gordon sighed, squeezing her nipple.
“Oh yes,” Mel said pushing her breast against his hand and shoving her hand against his stomach and gripping the length of her brother’s erection.
“Mel, oh Mel,” Gordon groaned pulling her to him, so her little tits were crushed against his chest.
“Yes my darling,” Mel groaned back, slipping her hand inside his trousers and finding his prick.
“Oh God, I know I shouldn’t, but I just can’t stop,” Gordon said his hand cupping his sister’s tight arse before slipping between her legs from behind.
“Oh Mel really?”
“Yes really, really.”
“We said we would stop.”
“Yes, I know.”
“But we aren’t are we?”
“No, no we aren’t, we can’t Gordy, we just can’t can we?”
“No darling we can’t.”
Their lips met, their mouths opened, their tongues probed and their lips squirmed as they kissed each other deeply and longingly, as lovers do.
His shirt was undone and had been removed; his trousers came off together with his socks and boxers. Mel took her panties off as he discarded his clothes.
And then they fucked. They fucked just like long-term lovers fuck, slow, easily, deeply and so very satisfyingly.
They fucked like long-term lovers because they were long-term lovers. Long-term incestuous lovers, long-term brother and sister lovers.
Roni was getting excited. She wasn’t quite sure why, but her breast had that heavy feeling, her nipples that tingly feeling and her pussy that, very, damp feeling.
Looking him right in the eye and holding his gaze as she moved her fingers to the button that was right on her waist, Roni nodded.
“Yes Preston,” she whispered as she undid the button, so that her slightly bulging stomach down to just above her pubic line was revealed.
“You’re going to do precisely as I say aren’t you?” He went still pinching her breast as he watched her find the next button, which was beneath her pussy.
“Yes,” she breathed, everything that Preston had made her go through so far this evening getting to her. “Yes I will.”
She undid the rest of the buttons. He reached across and pulled the two sides of the grey dress apart and then leaned further over and slid his hand down the side of her seat between that and the door. She felt the back of her seat reclining. Back and back it went until she was nearly horizontal.
“Now my scouse slut, wank yourself.”
“Oh Preston I can’t, there are so many people around.”
“Of course there are you stupid cow.”
“What do you mean?”
“This is a dogging sight Roni and you are going to masturbate right here as anyone who wants to can watch,” Preston said switching on the internal light, just as Roni grasped each of her breasts and started to roll them together.
“No,” she almost shouted as her naked body was bathed in light.
“Yes,” Preston muttered, rolling the window on her side down which is the acknowledged dogging signal that says, anyone can join in.
“No Preston, no,” Roni groaned, pulling the dress around her, covering her tits and belly, almost. Deep down she knew it was hopeless to complain, and even deeper down, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
She had read about the dogging phenomenon of where couples parked in designated areas identified and publicised on the internet, and put on shows. Sometimes purely exhibitionism and sometimes very participative. She had never been dogging, but in her wilder thinking moments it had an appeal, providing she could be safe. Preston, a big Merc, upmarket Highgate all added up to as safe as anything like dogging could ever be.
“I said yes Roni, I said get the fucking dress undone and I said start wanking yourself, so do it,” Preston went on undoing his flies.
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