I suppose that it was pure chance, a lucky throw of the dice, and a case of right time, right place, in which I met Lisa. The circumstances were hardly usual; in fact shock was possibly the first reaction she evinced from me. Definitely, shock. Intrigue and wanton lust also added to the brew of emotions that she caused. The experience of her was a life-changing event, one that would never ever diminish in the memory and would alter my perspective on life from that time onwards.
I had been called by a man who’s name reminded me of an out-board motor. Popolopoulous or something similar, merely trying to pronounce his name sounded like a four-horse-powered outboard engine on the back of a little boat. He wanted a full survey of the outside walls of his house in Maida Vale. A few days later, armed with digital camera and measuring beam, I was “on site”, taking notes and sketching the layout of the building. He had an idea he wanted to build a carport on the side with provision for a vine to grow over a steel trellis for which he needed to gain planning consent from Westminster Council.
An electronic controlled gate separated the building and grounds from the busy road that ran through to Paddington Green. From the street level, it was not possible to see the property, completely hidden by the dense growth of honeysuckle that draped over the top of the slatted wooden fence over a raised brick wall. Once inside the front garden and with the gate shut, London with its snaking and pollutant traffic was shut out completely. Not even the roar of diesel engines or the whine of small motorbikes penetrated over or through the barrier of brick, timber and foliage.
The house and its grounds were a sanctuary of quietitude. Closely mown lawn, laid in concentric arcs, split by gravel paths and brick built raise flowerbeds flowed like waves of alternate green, grey and colour up to a Carrerra marble portico with three step as a demarcation from the gravel covered drive that swung in a graceful sweep from the gate at the north side to another supposed gate at the south end.
The starkness of the marble contrasted with the deep redness of a clay-brick, two-storey height, Georgian front house with symmetrical bow front windows at ground floor level, on either side of the portico.
My professional eye dated the place and took in the condition of the house. Although it wasn’t a remarkable property for the area, the level of maintenance and quality probably added a couple of hundred thousand pounds to the purchase price. I orientated my self and walked along the gravel drive to the right hand-side or south facing gable as it turned out to be. It was at a gap between the gabled end and the partition wall that separated the neighbouring property that the client wanted to erect the carport, under a mature London Plane tree that offered shade.
Measuring and pacing took only a little while and then a quick sketch took a short while longer. Engrossed I missed the small, half opened sash window at the side. Music coming from the raised bottom half of the window first attracted my attention and then, my curiosity, because I was supposed to be on the premises alone.
I ignored it, marking the position for when I measured that section of wall to precisely plot the chimney flue that protruded on the flank.
I suppose I forgot about the window, letting the music drift into background noise until I got to that section, between the front corner and the chimney flue where the window broke up the uniform Flemish bonded brickwork.
The open window was at eye level. The music became recognisable as something by Rachmaninov. A heavy scent came from the gap at the bottom sash and as I approached, a softer noise under the notes of music. I hooked the end of the tape to the corner of the house and stretched it to the box of the window. It was at that point I saw her and the tape unhooked and sprang back as if it wanted to eat my trapped fingers. I hardly noticed the sharp pain.
She lay on the floor at an oblique angle, naked. Her paleness was in stark contrast to the dark floor covering. Golden hair flailed out and spread over the carpet as if a cushion were under her head. She lay on her back, knees drawn up while her busy fingers pinched and pulled at her nipples. She moaned slightly and her head rolled from side to side in a languid rocking motion. Small moans of pleasure escaped from her parted lips.
I couldn’t gauge her age from my vantage point. She appeared to be young, perhaps in her teens, but difficult to determine. Both hands were engaged in pleasuring her nipples. Stroking them in loving fingertip swirls and then pulling the tips cruelly up between thumbs and forefingers, that drew a moan from her throat.
She was beautiful. That much was plainly evident; slender of waist and hairless at her pubic mound. Her face, even in a rictus of pleasure, was unmarked, flawless and lost to the intense sensation her nimble fingers were causing.
Her eyes were closed and her perfectly even and white teeth were biting her lower lip. She drew breath sharply through them as she pinched her hardened and deeply reddened teats and her long neck arched, forcing her shoulders off the floor and pushing her breasts forward as if enticing her fingers to punish the little nerve centres further.
One hand travelled in small circles over the skin of her flat stomach, while the other fell almost lifelessly to the floor at her side. Her knees straightened and her legs parted slightly.
Anticipation was adding to my already painful arousal. I visualised what she was about to do and the excitement went immediately to my engorged cock. From my vantage point, I could see her vulva, slick with her juices and swelling with mounting need. I wanted, no, actually needed to plunge into her body, possess it, ride her and bury my self between her parted thighs, but as any voyeur, I remained a silent witness to her self pleasuring, frightened that any slight movement or noise would spoil the magic of the unfolding scene before me. Besides, I knew well enough that, contrary to the popular male belief that a woman in such a position would, upon spying her audience, invite him in to join her, my intrusion would end in my eviction, most likely with a stream of verbal abuse.
Her fingertips had found her moistened lips and parted them slightly. It seemed she was being careful not to touch that most sensitive nub of nerve endings, perhaps leaving it till she was ready; or delaying the moment in self-torture. Carefully, her tips separated the swollen lips and her forefinger slipped easily between to disappear into the hidden canal beyond.
Another sharp intake of breath announced the invasion of her pleasure pool. The single finger entered and exited in a slow, rhythmic tempo that matched her breathing. She unfolded a second finger and it accompanied the other in its travels into her depths that were hidden from me in shadow.
The pace increased and her back arched as her pleasure mounted. Her fingers fucked her hairless sex in a relentless and increasingly bruising drive towards an orgasm. Her chest rose in staccato as her breathing became ragged. Her tongue flicked out to moisten her parted lips. Her head thrashed from side to side with her eyes screwed tightly shut.
She lifted her passive hand from the floor and a finger slid straight to her budding clit. The first touch brought forth a rasping gasp that seemed as if it must tear her throat. Mercilessly she rubbed her self while finger fucking herself. The torment to her clit was becoming a rapid tattoo, her legs quivered in uncontrolled rapture. Cries escaped her lips as her orgasm approached. Then she pinched her clit, drawing it forward, pinching the sensitive bud bringing a sharp gasp of indrawn breath between her clenched teeth as if her fingers were red hot and she had burned herself and then, a scream that climbed through an octave shattered the air and she squirted her slickness over and between her fingers to pool on the carpet, before seeping away. Her fingers quickly were sucked dry of her juice, one by one, each finger slipped between her rose coloured lips to be drawn into her mouth and cleaned thoroughly.
My heart rattled and banged in my chest, seeming to hit my ribs from the inside as if it was trying to escape. My own breathing coming in short gasps as I watched her legs twitching in diminishing waves as her orgasm receded, each wave just slightly less powerful than the last.
Then all went very still, breathing, heart, everything as she turned her head, opened her eyes and looked straight at me. Almond shaped azure orbs orientated on the open window and my freeze-framed face, surrounded by painted window frame and sash.
I was mortified and desperately wanted to run and not stop until I was far away, but my legs refused to follow the instructions my thoughts were telling them. I was transfixed by her stare like a moth on a collector’s pin. A mixture of shame and self-loathing overcame me. But, then, she smiled, just an upward twitch of the ends of her perfect lips and a slight wrinkling of her nose. We looked at each other, neither moving in a frozen tableau, until her smiled broadened, her pink tongue tip licked across her top lip as if tasting the air.
I thought I saw her invite me in with a twitch of her head in a come here movement of her head. I thought that was what I had seen, but was too stupefied to move. She repeated the action and emphasised the motion theatrically.
I took the broad hint and pulled back to find the door. I couldn’t see anyway in and turned back to shrug with open palms in a silent plea for directions. She understood and pointed to my left.
I found the back door, ajar and opening onto a small vestibule with a couple of doors, painted white leading off in opposite directions. I opened the left hand door that lead towards the front of the house.
She stood in the centre of the room, still naked, standing in an unconscious pose with her head tilted to the left shoulder, arms hanging limp at her side and her feet planted slightly apart.
Her beauty stunned me momentarily. Her golden hair hung over her shoulder, straight until it revolved in ringlets at her waist, partially covering her small, high, left breast. Her knee bent and the smile inviting and worrying at the same time. Her skin was flawless an almost pure white except the pinkness of her nipples and lips and a slight darkening tone at her mons. When I had watched her lying on the floor, I had guessed she was a beauty, but now that she was standing in her full glory, her true loveliness could be appreciated. She stood, perhaps five foot three or four inches in her bare feet. Her breasts were small, not under developed, but small and high on her chest. She was slender, but proportioned to perfection; hips flared, but not overly, more a subtle change of width from her narrow waist.
Her mons was slightly darker in tone, but she appeared hairless rather than shaved.
I suppose I stood there, looking at her for a little too long, because she placed a hand on her hip and asked me if I was just going to stand there all night. Even in her slight frustration at my apparent ineptitude, her voice seemed to tinkle into my tympanic nerve and caress my hearing in a soothing invitation.
But even then, the intoxication of her had me in thrall and movement was beyond me for a moment. The sight of her perfection and the fact that she had invited me in was just too much for my senses to believe.
It was she who broke the spell by coming to me and grasping my hand before pulling me into the centre of the bare room. It was only then I realised that there was no furniture of any kind, just a soft woollen carpet on the floor.
Wordlessly and constantly looking up into my eyes, she began to unbutton my denim shirt; starting with the second button the top was already open.
Monolithic like, I stood while she reached the last button and had to pull the tails of my shirt out from under the waistband on my jeans. Carefully, she peeled the shirt off of my shoulders; still intently looking into my eyes as if keeping the thrall she had me in by eye to eye contact alone. I allowed my shirt to be pulled off my shoulders and then off of my arms.
I wanted to touch her, but feared that the moment would burst like a soap bubble and I awake from a dream or something. This doesn’t happen, I kept thinking, it doesn’t happen in real life. But, it was happening and a small part of me knew that I wasn’t dreaming; that I was a party to her seduction of me by her allure alone.
She kissed the space between my breasts and then licked the slight perspiration. Her eyes closed slightly as if she relished the saltiness of my moisture. She glanced up again and pulled my head down to her waiting, parted lips. A tender kiss, then, with pressure to the back of my neck, a deeper kiss, mouth pressed almost fiercely together, crushing until tooth met tooth. It felt as if my breath was being pulled from my lungs and was being pumped out by the hammering of my heart.
She broke the kiss and then pulled me back to her mouth; her tongue snaked between my teeth and explored the roof of my palate. Our tongues met. I kissed her back with as much ardour, savouring the cinnamon taste of her breath. Still, I had not touched her, keeping my arms limply beside my sides.
She broke the kiss and slowly knelt in front of me. She lifted my left foot and slipped the moccasin I was wearing, off and threw it into the corner of the room. I allowed her to lift my foot like an obedient horse at a farrier’s workshop. Then she lifted the other foot while I transferred the weight and stood on one leg. Content with my shoelessness, she grasped the buckle of my belt and slowly released the clasp. I could feel the trembling of anticipation travel along my spine.
The belt undone and hanging open, useless, she grasped the waistband of my jeans and levered the button undone with one hand. The other had gripped the tag of the zip and was slowly pulling it down to reveal my boxers underneath. I was so pleased I had plain black ones on and not the Father Christmas printed ones my Mother had thought a good idea for a present.
When the zip and button were undone, she hooked her thumbs into the elasticated band of my boxers and drew both those and the jeans around my ankles, over my trembling knees. With her help, I stepped out of the clothes and she threw those to join the discarded moccasins in the corner. I was now as naked as her.
She still knelt in front of me and looked up into my face. Her lids hooded the almond shaped blue eyes that bored into me as she placed her hand around my rigid cock so recently released from the confines of clothing.
I knew that she would take me into her mouth and I knew that it was to be heavenly, but I could never be prepared for the intense concentration of nerve jangling pleasure. She slowly opened her lips and slipped her tongue out. With the tip, she licked my slit, moistening it. It was almost painful to bear. Then her mouth opened a little more and I watched as my cock head disappeared between her lips. Watching it pass into the warmth of her and the feeling as it slid passed her teeth was the most sensuous experience of my sexual life to date.
Her tongue massaged my head, swilling it around in her mouth, the ridges of her palate created tiny vibrations as friction and the pressure of her mouth caused me to come to a point that, if I didn’t stop, would be all over.
It was my first touch of her as I gently grasped her head to pull her away, but I think she must have thought that I wanted her to continue, because she thrust her head forward and I entered her throat. Her lips banged against my pubic bone where she had sunk all of my length. I gasped and, not wanting it to end in this way and so quickly, managed to take her off of my throbbing organ and I knelt facing her, breast to breast hip to hip and kissed her deeply. She allowed my tongue to pass between her lips. I tasted my precum on her lips and was intoxicated all over again. She kissed me back, crushing my lips hard against my teeth.
Fuck me. She breathed. Fuck me please? It wasn’t a plea, more an implied command.
We lay, side by side on the floor and I took her in, marvelled again at her flawless beauty. I supported her head with a hand behind her neck and bent to kiss her once more. A fingertip, traced from her throat and the small dip to her breastbone, just lightly touching. Then to her nipple, circling the budding pink nub and watching as the skin around it puckered with what looked like goose bumps. It hardened and deepened in colour as blood infused and desire mounted. My mouth took her other nipple while I manipulated and it too, hardened between my teeth. A little nip drew a sharp intake of breath and a moan as she exhaled.
Her taste, when at last I nuzzled into her glorious cleft, was just as intoxicating as the vision. Her juice had a slight bitter sweetness that lingered on my tongue. I found her hooded clit and tip lashed it so softly, barely touching her most sensitive centre. The effect was instantly electric, producing a shock that travelled through her body from her curling toes to the back of her scalp and back down again. She screamed and then moaned loudly as I started to work on her sex with my lapping tongue.
She thrust her hands between us and pulled her lips open and the hood back, almost viciously, to expose her swelling clit. It was my pleasure to service her need and I sucked her into my mouth, I was rewarded with a flood of her golden come. If my actions were a sublime torture to her, the effect it was having on my libido was just as devastating.
My glans ached painfully in its erectness and the need and sheer wantonness of what was happening conspired together to increase my desperate desire to bury myself inside her canal, past the swelling lips of her beautifully scented sex.
She spread her legs as I knelt between them and slowly lowered myself until just touching her with the wet end of my cock. Supporting my upper torso on hands either side of her on the floor, I bent and kissed her mouth and slipped my tongue between her lips as my cock slipped between her other secret lips.
It had been my intention to push into her slowly, but she had different ideas. Her knees came up and feet interlocked behind my buttocks. It gave me an easy passage into her depths and I was content to be gentle and take it slowly. She pulled me into her using her feet in a violent pull while pushing her hips upwards and forward, forcing my cock to slide straight into her womb. It was my turn to gasp as our pelvic bones clashed in collision. Automatically, I pulled back, only to be forced straight back into her as she pulled me back in with a vice like grip that belied her slightness.
She forced the pace, driving her hips into me and digging her nails into my back in a desperate fury of motion that built pressure in my balls that could only be released in a flood of my seed into her belly. The pressure was building and I would not last too much longer. She must have gauged my nearness to orgasm through my rapid and uncontrolled breathing because she stopped suddenly and wriggled out from under me with a kiss and a smile that melted my already lost heart.
She turned over and knelt facing the still open window. Her ass cheeks provocatively invited me to mount her. In a trance like state and with little self-awareness, I complied and grasped her hips and pulled her back onto my swollen and rigid glans, burying it into her so that my balls slapped her clit. I was able to reach forward and grasp her gorgeous tits by raising my knees off the floor in the classic doggy position, relying on her hips to make the rhythm and her arms and knees support the weight of my body.
Suddenly, and without any warning of approach, a warm tongue lashed my puckered and raised ass. The shock drove me forward and even deeper into her body. She screamed a single word; yes! Before I could react, the tongue performed its magic again and once more, I drove into her, sinking all of my length and crushing my sacs against her pubic bone.
The dog’s tongue was a wonderful addition to what was an utterly fantastic event. Somehow, I managed to keep driving into her, nearing my orgasm. Then, equally without warning, the dog had mounted me, gripping hers and my waists between his front legs, paws locked together. I wasn’t prepared for what happened next. His sharply pointed cock drove through my sphincter and into my anal canal. I must have screamed, I suppose I did, but it made no difference, because he thrust into me with a piston like regularity. It was wonderful. The dog fucking me in the ass and me, fucking her at the same rate as his, driven by his powerful hips in a blur of motion.
His cock caused pressure within and made me even harder and then, suddenly, as sudden as his assault on me, I came. The powerful blasts of come felt as if it ripped through my cock. Over and over, I pulsed into her, filling her womb with my seed while the dog milked me from the inside. I had never felt so abused and satiated at the same time and so switched on and alive.
But, I could take no more of the dogs pounding and it was becoming painful being inside her. I had to pull off and managed to disengage from her as the dog dismounted me. I admit, I collapsed in an untidy heap beside her and watched as the dog, which had yet to reach his own climax, mount her. She hadn’t moved and offered her sex to him as she had to me.
Eight inches of purple Great Dane cock, piled into her willing body and he took up where I left off. Machine like thrust drove him into her, making her gasp and grunt in time. Perspiration dripped from her brow and sheen collected on her skin.
The Danes cock was deep inside and his knot had started to swell, forcing her lips cruelly apart until it too, disappeared into her willing depths. She screamed and in an animalistic and primal urge, she shoved back and impaled herself on him.
Their combined orgasm was a mixture of grunts, screams a growl that came from deep within the dogs throat. Fluids dripped from her and then gushed as the dog dismounted. They had locked, but her accommodating body had released him easily.
“It was ordained”. She told me. I watched you from the window and knew you had to be the one. The one I have waited for.
“I don’t even know your name.” I was trying to calm down after the experience, the like I had never known, nor ever would again, in all likelihood.
“Its Lisa and this is Maxmillan. Your boy child will be the perfect combination of canine and human, your seed will mix to make the first awaited one. Thank you.” Her eyes held me in that thrall again.
“I’m R….” She silenced me with a finger on my lips.
“I do not need your name; I have all I need from you. Get your clothes.”
I rolled over to where my clothes lay in a crumpled heap and rolled back. Neither she nor the dog was there anymore. They had left soundlessly; I was suddenly quite alone.
My tentative enquires to my client about the girl and the black Great Dane only brought forth confusion.
“We have nobody here like that and we have never had a dog.
Was I the co-father of a new race? I was never to find out and have always needed to know.