Green and Shimmering 02

The low thrum of a diesel engine vibrated through old Volvo estate; Terry sat behind the steering wheel, his huge hands looking comically large on the worn leather. Beside him in the passenger seat, the husband, Mark, scrolled through his phone, the blue glow illuminating his placid face. He'd told Terry his name casually after a lot of avoiding the answer and Terry was too smitten with Sadie to worry about it. She was in the back, a silent silhouette against the passing street lights, watching the city bleed into the hinterlands.

They were headed to a pub Mark knew. "The Anchor's Weigh," he'd said. "Quiet. Old school. They won't bat an eye."

The silence wasn't uncomfortable, but saturated with the memory of what had happened on that sticky hotel carpet hours before. Terry was hard again just thinking about it. Thinking about stopping the car and pulling Sadie up on to the bonnet just to feel her silk gripping him again. He couldn't even look at her.

"You drink bitter, Terry?" Mark mumbled.

"Yeah, lager, whatever" Terry rumbled, the sound loud in the quiet car.

"Good man."

The pub sat at a crossroads, a low-slung building of whitewashed stone and black beams hunched against the coastal wind. A single yellow bulb glowed above a sign creaking on its hinges. The car park was gravel, empty save for a mud-spattered Land Rover and a vintage motorcycle under a tarp. Terry killed the engine and the sudden silence was profound, broken only by the distant crash of waves and the mournful cry of a gull.

They got out. The cold air was a slap, smelling of salt, damp earth, and peat smoke from the chimney. Sadie had on a simple, long wool coat but her legs were bare between its hem and the white frills of her socks above her chunky Mary Janes. Terry guided Sadie with a hand on her back toward the pub as Mark led the way, pushing open the heavy oak door.

Warmth, the smell of ale, old wood, and fried food washed over them. The pub was a single room, low-ceilinged, with a peat fire smouldering in a vast hearth. A handful of old men were scattered like barnacles on the high stools at the bar and at the round tables, their conversations a low, phlegmy murmur. They all looked up as one. Eyes, milky with age or sharp with isolation, tracked Sadie as she followed Mark to a corner table beside a frost-whorled window. Terry felt their gazes like physical touches, but Sadie walked with a serene, detached grace.

Mark ordered two pints of the local dark bitter and a straight double vodka from a barman with forearms like ham hocks. He brought them to the table. Terry took a long pull. It was good, malty and deep. Sadie hadn't spoken since they left the hotel and when Mark instructed her to drink she still only nodded and downed the vodka as fast as she could. When she had finished Mark kissed her deeply, licking inside of her mouth like some lecherous alcoholic hoping to get drunk from the remnants of the spirit.

Terry cleared two-thirds of his pint in one go watching them.

Once satisfied that everyone had seen Sadie being used, Mark leaned over to Terry, his voice a confidential murmur.

"Can you feel it, Sadie? Terry needs a release I think."

Sadie's eyes flicked to Terry. She gave a barely perceptible smile. She put her small hand on his thigh. His cock was pulsing. He could have shot right there and then.

"Take her outside. There's a side yard."

Terry's steel-blue eyes held Mark's for a beat. There was no instruction beyond that, but the implication was a live wire in the smoky air. He stood, the chair scraping loudly. Every old head at the bar turned again.

Sadie stood with him, fluid and automatic as Terry took her hand and led her back through the pub, past the silent, staring men, and out the same heavy door into the biting night.

The side yard was a patch of crushed seashells and tough grass, bordered by a shoulder-high wall of rough stone. Beyond it, the land fell away to blackness and the sound of the sea. A single security light above the pub's back door cast a clean white light across the ground. The wind was stronger here, whipping Sadie's coat around her knees.

She turned to him, her face upturned, those green pools drinking in the scant light. Wordlessly, she unbuttoned her long coat and let it fall to the shells.

Beneath it she was completely nude; her hair whipped in the wind as her nipples hardened pointing almost upward with the curve of her small breasts. Her mound puffy with goosebumps, legs shivering and her breath pluming in the air. She parted her legs slightly and leaned forward a little, waiting for Terry to take his position.

Terry unzipped his jeans releasing his cock which looked more like a truncheon silhouetted in the dark; the cold could do nothing to dampen his arousal. Sadie looked right in his eyes as he stepped forward, her hands wrapped around it for a moment, stroking at it for a moment before he circled her. His rough hands cupped the perfect pale hemispheres of her ass, and between them, the delicate, puffy lips of her cunt, already glistening.

Terry moved close, the heat of their bodies a small defiance against the night.

He didn't enter her immediately. He pressed the broad, blunt head of his cock against her entrance, feeling her heat, feeling her inner muscles flutter in a frantic greeting. She pushed back against him, a desperate little grind. She whispered, her voice strained, "Piss.". Terry paused.

"Please."

Terry wasn't sure he could. Sadie put her hands over her face, as if ashamed of what she had said but still holding her little cunt up to his cock obediently. Terry reached down and pulled back his foreskin rubbing himself against her cunt and asshole spreading her cunt drool around.

He slowly pushed the head of his cock inside her and she moved one hand to fill her mouth with four fingers. He held himself there, at the edge of her feeling her tighten around him, she rocked back slightly but Terry gripped her by the neck.

"Stay still bitch."

"Yes Daddy."

Slowly at first the piss began to flow, a sharpness at teh end of his cock as it shot up inside of Sadie's perfect cunt. Terry dug himself in further briefly pausing the flow. As he stopped again the flow returned. It began to dribble from Sadie who took her free hand and wiped at herself before licking the still warm piss from her palms like a dog cleaning itself. Terry pushed one last time, into Sadie's absolute limit as the flow finally receded. They kissed deeply, Sadie twisting to find his lips, Terry tasting the vegetal flavour of his own piss, somehow made sweet on her lips.

He began to fuck her. Slow, deep, piston strokes that drove the breath from her lungs in ragged gasps. Sadie was like a weightless ragdoll in his arms, her feet lifting and even scraping across the gravel as he used her. Her cunt milked him harder and harder with each stroke though, and he fucked her harder, his huge sack slapping against her slick hairless flesh, the sound wet and obscene in the darkness. Her moans became a continuous, keening plea. Her shrieks rising to an almost distracting level as terry gripped the front of her cunny, rubbing at her clit as she started to convulse, sucking at his face between groans of pleasure as the first waves of orgasm began to roll through her.

Terry felt his own orgasm begin to coil and he let go shooting deep inside of her but not stopping as she rode wave after wave of her own.

When it was over, he stayed inside her, spent, panting clouds into the air. She was sobbing, great, heaving breaths. As Terry slowly pulled out the remaining piss was released, spattering across the gravel below.

Sadie's legs gave way and she slumped down to her knees in the wet gravel.

Terry looked down at her, a crumpled, steaming mess at his feet. The wind cut through the yard, raising goose flesh on her exposed skin, but the heat radiating from her core was palpable, her cunt was red. He zipped himself up, the wet head of his cock leaving a dark spot on his jeans.

"Up," he said, his voice a low rumble that carried over the sigh of the wind.

Sadie didn't move for a moment, only taking shaky, hitched breaths. She was staring at the puddle between her knees, the evidence of their coupling shimmering in the white light. Then, with a visible effort that made the muscles in her slender back cord and flex, she pushed herself up. Her legs trembled violently. She staggered like a ballerina toward stone wall to steady herself, bending over as if to be sick but revealing the swollen, used lips of her cunt again. The smell of sex, salt, and a faint, ammoniac tang rose came in short waves carried by the breee toward Terry.

Terry picked up her coat and wrapped it around her like a shawl then guided her back toward the pub's rear door, the crunch of shells under his boots the only sound.

The warmth of the pub interior was a shock. The low conversations had died. All eyes were on the door as Terry pushed it open. He held it for Sadie. She slipped in behind him, a pale ghost trailing the scent of the cold and something muskier, more intimate. The coat was still held tightly in front of her, but her bare, piss-damp thighs were visible to the room. A droplet fell from the hem of the coat onto the worn flagstone floor with a tiny, distinct *tap*.

Mark was exactly where they'd left him, his pint half-drunk. He didn't smile. His dark eyes performed a quick, appraising scan of Sadie; her trembling legs, her scuffed shoes and wind-blown hair. He gave a single, slow nod of acknowledgment.

Terry walked back to the table, the weight of the silent stares like a physical pressure. Sadie shuffled behind him. She reached their corner and simply stood beside the table, unsure, it seemed, if she was permitted to sit.

"Sit down, love," Mark said, his tone conversational, as if she'd just returned from the loo.

She lowered herself gingerly onto the wooden chair. Terry resumed his seat, picking up his pint and taking a long, deliberate swallow. The bitter tasted different now; earthy, metallic, perfect.

Mark leaned forward, elbows on the table, his voice dropping back into that confidential murmur. "See those three, Terry? At the end of the bar."

Terry's gaze, without seeming to move, took them in. Three old men. They were distinct in their similarities. One was bald with a liver-spotted pate and thick, nicotine-stained fingers curled around a whiskey glass. The one next to him had a shock of unkempt white hair and a nose mapped with broken capillaries, his eyes bright and bird-like. The third was the largest, with a stooped back and massive, knotted hands that rested on the bar as if he were still holding the reins of a plow horse. They weren't looking at the couple's table directly, but their attention was a focused beam in the periphery.

"The big one, his name's Gerald. Used to own the farm up on the cliffs. The other two, Walter and Colin, they were fishermen. Retired now. Wives are dead or in homes. They come here every night. They've seen nothing like her in a lifetime of looking."

Terry grunted. He understood the narrative being constructed. The setting, the props, the audience. Mark was a director, and the pub was his stage.

"I had a word while you were out," Mark said, his eyes glinting with that muted, devious humor. "Made them an offer."

Sadie made a small sound, a faint whimper she stifled by biting her lower lip. Her knuckles were white where she clutched the coat.

"Cash. For a go. One after the other. No condoms. They get to finish where they like. Consider it a... liquidation of assets." He smirked at his own joke. "I told them she's a premium product. Limited time offer."

Terry looked at Sadie. Her green eyes were wide, fixed on a knot in the wooden table. She was listening to every word, her body humming with a terrified arousal that was so intense it seemed to vibrate the air around her. The damp spot on the seat of her chair was slowly widening.

"And?" Terry prompted.

Mark simply laid a wad of notes on the table with a smirk. He finally looked directly at his wife. "Sadie. Stand up. Take the coat off. Go over to the bar and stand next to Gerald. The big one."

Sadie flinched at the sound of the front door being locked and barred by the thick-armed barman. "He just gets to watch." Mark giggled.

A tear escaped, tracing a clean path through the salt-dried on Sadie's cheek, but the obedience was ingrained, deeper than fear, deeper than shame. It was her fundament. She stood and let her coat slide from her grasp and fall to the floor in a heap. Terry's cock twitched at the sight her champagne-glass tits, her taut nipples, the tight-plain of her belly and the red swelling of her otherwise alabaster sex.

Every time felt like the first, he was falling in love on repeat.

She took a shaky breath, and then walked, her shoes quietly tearing from the sticky floor in the otherwise perfect silence of the pub was absolute. Terry now realised the other patrons had left. He wondered if Mark had planned this all out in some elaborate game. He wondered what the man could possible do for a living to both afford such a game and to plan it.

Sadie reached the bar and stopped, as instructed, beside Gerald. She stood with her head slightly bowed, her arms limp at her sides. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder as he sat on the stool. He didn't look at her face. He looked at her body, his old eyes, clouded with cataracts but still sharp with hunger, travelling over her.

He reached out a hand, not to grab, but to hover. His knuckles, swollen with arthritis, brushed at her hip. Sadie flinched, tickled.

"All yours, gents."

Gerald nodded slowly. He slid off his stool with a grunt, his bones creaking. He took Sadie not by the hand, but by the upper arm, his grip surprisingly strong. His fingers encircled her bicep completely. He gripped her nipple between thumb and index as if inspecting an animal. He lifted her on to the stool and spread her legs before dipping a thumb into her mouth then rubbing it against her clit. The men all watched as Sadie began to grind against his hand, helpless to stop herself.

After a few moments Gerald.

"Let's go back there, where the hearth is." Sadie obeyed, climbing off the stool and holding two of the men by the hand as a third led her away, into a small doorway Terry hadn't noticed covered by a tapestry.

Mark turned to Terry.

"Do you mind if I have a stroke?" Terry shook his head and simply watched as Mark took out his cock and began to stroke, watching the tapestry and listening to the sounds of belts being unbuckled, of chairs being pushed across the floor, men beginning to groan in pleasure. The barman crossed over to stand in the doorway.

Mark's cock was hard as a rock though it was a fairly standard size. He stroked it slowly at first, until the pre cum began to seep out from the tip. As the sounds from behind the tapestry grew louder, the squeaks of Sadie and the sharp sounds of slapping skin, Terry watched Mark's cock. The excitement had returned in Terry. he'd never experienced anything like it. all he might compare it to was taking ecstasy, the night had been an impossible roller coaster of excitement and he could barely believe he had the energy to continue feeling anything. He could feel how drained his body was, not to mention his emotions, but somehow he couldn't stop. He began to feel the urge to start stroking to but before he could act on it Mark shot his load all over himself and the table.

He zipped up and stood, the cum still glued to his jacket, before speaking again.

"I'm going to bring the car around. Get Sadie when she's finished yeah?".

Terry watched Mark leave, then turned again to listen to the sounds of Sadie and the old men before rising and walking toward the tapestry.

As he pushed it aside he saw Sadie; on her side on the wooden bench, curled into a fetal position and silhouetted by the fireplace. She rolled over revealing clear, milky fluids glistening on her stomach and her thighs. She was shuddering, not from the cold but from sheer overstimulation, her breath hitching in exhausted sobs.

Terry didn't speak. He simply leaned down, hooked one massive arm under her knees and the other behind her shoulders, and lifted her. She was startlingly light, a bundle of bruised bones and overheated flesh.

"Wait there" a voice murmured. terry looked over to see one of the men standing nude before them. His cock was thick and uncut, the foreskin a wrinkled hood over the bulbous head. It was mottled, angry purplish-red, with a scattering of small, rough-looking bumps and lesions along the shaft.

Sadie gazed at i from terry's arms, then gently shuffled herself on to the floor. Terry grabbed her arm but one look from her emerald eyes made him know he could not stop her.

She knelt down in front of the old man and began to suck him hard, he lasted only a few minutes and once he had dribbled his load down her face she lay down on the carpet with a beatific smile. She took a trembling hand and rubbed the spunk from her chin, down her chest and into her glistening cunt. The old man smirked and began to dress.

Terry stood frozen, bewildered and once more rock-hard.

The cold night air was a shock after the pub's cloistered heat. Sadie whimpered, burrowing deeper against Terry. Mark unlocked the Volvo's back door. Instead of putting her in the seat, Terry climbed in arranging Sadie on his lap, her back to his chest, her bare, slick skin against his clothed torso. He wrapped his thick arms around her, enveloping her completely. Mark got into the driver's seat, started the engine, and the headlights cut two white swathes through the darkness as they pulled out of the gravel car park.

For a few minutes, there was only the rumble of the engine, the hiss of tires on wet tarmac, and Sadie's ragged, slowing breaths. She smelled almost anti septic. The world outside was a blur of black hedgerows and occasional pinpricks of distant farmhouse lights. Then, slowly, she stirred in his arms. She turned her head, her face a pale smudge in the darkness. Her green eyes, swollen from crying, found his in the dim glow of the passing street lamps. They were deep, dark pools of utter exhaustion and a strange, dawning gratitude.

She lifted a trembling hand and placed it against his stubbled cheek. Then she leaned in and kissed him.

It was nothing like the desperate, gagging kiss from the hotel room. This was tender, achingly soft. Her lips were chapped and salty from tears, but they moved against his with a gentle, searching reverence. Terry remained still for a moment, then he responded in kind, his own lips moving gently against hers, his tongue tracing the seam of her mouth until she parted her lips with a sigh. The kiss deepened, slow and wet and profoundly intimate, a silent conversation in the dark, moving car.

Her hand slid from his cheek to the back of his neck, holding him to her. She broke the kiss only to whisper against his mouth, her breath hot and sweet with beer and something else, something fundamentally *hers*. "Please," she breathed, the word barely audible over the engine. "I need you to finish me."

He shifted her in his lap, his hands moving to her hips. He unzipped his jeans with one hand, freeing his cock. It was heavy, half-hard, but it stirred to full, throbbing life as soon as her bare, slick skin brushed against it. He guided her, lifting her slightly. She understood, raising herself up on shaky knees, straddling him there in the backseat of the moving car. Mark drove on, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, a faint, knowing smile playing on his lips in the rear view mirror.

Sadie lowered herself onto him. He thought of all the violations that had occured tonight as he slid into her buried to the hilt. His heart pounded. somehow all the violations deepened their connection. It was as if their hearts stopped whenever they weren't intertwined. She gasped, her head falling back against his shoulder as he shot his muck. She kept riding.

His hands roamed her bruised body with a rough tenderness, palming her breasts, tracing the line of her spine, gripping her hips to guide her slow, rocking rhythm. His cock softened though not entirely. They just grooved, like the drip of rain water that deforms a rock over thousands of years. She was a gentle, undulating tide, her inner muscles fluttering around his shaft in soft, grateful pulses. Her mouth found his neck, planting soft, open-mouthed kisses against his pulse point.

"Terry" she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Oh, Terry."

Her orgasm built slowly, a deep, coiling tension and when it broke her entire body seized, locking around him, her cunt milking his cock in rhythmic, powerful waves that seemed to pull his own climax up from the very roots of him. He came again with a low, guttural groan, flooding her with a fresh, hot rush of his seed, adding his own claim to the chaotic mixture already inside her. She collapsed against him, boneless, sobbing quietly into his jacket, but these were tears of a different kind--cleansing, overwhelming tears of completion.

They stayed like that, joined, as the car wound through the night. Mark turned on the radio, low, some late-night talk show murmuring inconsequentially.

After a long while, as the first outskirts of the city began to glow on the horizon, Sadie stirred again.

Terry looked down at her.

"One more." she pleaded, her green eyes gleaming in the lightening sky outside.

He didn't answer with words. He simply began to move again, his hands tightening on her and flipping her face down into the car seats. She screamed and he simply pushed her face into the car seat to muffle her. It was quicker, more urgent, a hard, possessive claiming that ended with him grunting and spurting deep, another scalding load into her womb just as Mark pulled the car to a quiet stop outside a block of flats.

Terry sat down again and pulled on his clothes. Sadie found her ruined coat on the seat and wrapped it around herself, a pathetic shield that made her nothing but a pale head, feet and arms in the dimness of the car.

Terry kissed her goodbye then shut the door on her and watched as she lay down and seemed to almost immediately fall asleep.

"Good night mate." Mark grinned before pulling away.

Terry waved goodbye to Mark and watched as they disappeared off into the night.

Inside as he showered his heart raced remembering everything that had happened. He'd never felt so completely empty, yet somehow full. His phone buzzed rattling on the ceramic surface by the sink. Terry's heart skipped a beat thinking of Sadie and he climbed out, shutting the water off and lifted it with still-wet hands; it was from Mark.

"Sadie wants to see you Monday. You free to drop by her work?"