The Phantom Fuck

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“So been screwing the birthday girl have you?” Marcia said to Gareth as they were eating breakfast.

It was at the last knockings of Sammi’s twenty first birthday party. There were two servings of bacon and eggs, with all the trimmings; the early one was between six and seven for those still partying and the later one, from nine onwards, for those who had lost the will to go on and had crashed in the marquee or the pool changing rooms where Amanda and Kevin had thoughtfully provided loads of sunbeds, loungers, lilos and blankets. Most had been occupied for the past few hour, some even for sleeping on!.

“Fuck off Marcia, what do you mean?” the, City boy derivatives trader in his early thirties snarled.

“Come on don’t be pissed at Aunty,” the forty five-year-old immensely wealthy wife of one of the leading consultant psychologists in the UK said, smiling and putting her hand on Gareth’s arm, after making sure no one could see them.

“What got you so worked up about our Sandra Dee? Her stockings? Did you get your sweaty paws up her silky draws?” Marcia asked almost singing the words from Grease.

“How the fuck did you know she wore stockings?”

“You should know by now darling, Aunty Marcia knows everything, she wants to know.”

“And why would you want to know about Sammi’s stockings and whether I shagged her not?”

Marcia wasn’t Gareth’s aunt at all, but they had used that term ever since their first time, when Gareth had said “It is a bit like having sex with my aunt.” He was her friend Amanda’s husband’s son from his first marriage. Close, but not web feet territory, and that had been sufficient for Marcia and him to have been having sex on and off for nearly ten years. She preferred young men to those her own age.

“No particular reason,” she said slipping her finger into his dress shirt, which had three buttons undone with his black tie draped round his neck. She slowly rubbed him between his breasts.

“Other than checking up on my property.”

“I’m not your property.”

“Really?” Marcia said moving closer and staring right into Gareth’s eyes.

She pointedly slid one hand into the back pocket of her very tight, black, shiny trousers. That caused the front of her button up dress shirt, which she had worn with black tie earlier, to gape open. Whereas, Gareth had left three buttons undone, Marcia’s shirt had four unbuttoned. That meant the shirt was open to more than half way down between her breasts. She was not well-endowed in that area, having only small mounds capped by large, dark nipples, so she could get away with showing so much. That is until the shirt gaped, then whoever was looking would see all and that is precisely what Gareth saw.

As she saw him looking right where she wanted him to, she again glanced round to make sure there were no onlookers. Reassured, she moved even closer. She caught his wrist with one hand and placed it on her pert, shapely, nicely rounded bum. She slid the other down his front and rubbed his bulge, as she leaned forward and kissed him. As she had anticipated he, firstly stroked all over each orb and then squeezed her bum and kissed her back.

“Ok you bitch,” he grunted, recognising that she was the only woman that could always get to him. All the others, his age, younger, older, models, hookers, fellow city traders and bankers, starlets and MILFs, he could take or leave. With Marcia, he always came back for more.

Chapter 2.

Marcia didn’t wear underwear. She rarely bothered with a bra, having small tits, and felt that without panties she, not only got rid of any ridges under the ridiculously tight jeans, trousers and skirts she favoured, but she also gained such fantastic sensations. As she had said to Amanda, who was Sammi’s mum and Gareth’s step-mother as well as being one of Marcia’s best friends, although Marcia occasionally also dallied with Amanda’s husband Kevin, but then as she thought to herself, ‘who hasn’t?’ feeling rather sorry for her friend.

“It’s like walking around with a vibrator up your cunt.”

Marcia and Stephen had a pretence of a happy marriage. As it happens they got on quite well, for neither really believed in love, but there it ended. True, they attended many functions together, both the medical ones that resulted from his job and the charity, hunting, showbiz, sporting and celebrity ones that came about because of Marcia’s family connections and massive wealth, now well into the billion plus sterling.

Marcia had never been faithful to Stephen, but until recently Stephen had not thought of straying. Well he did have hookers and escorts, but they didn’t really count, did they? Marcia had a number of fuckbuddies, had a penchant for young guys, particularly golf and tennis coaches and ski instructors and recently, she had found herself being more and more attracted to women, particularly younger ones.

Although she had absolutely no evidence whatsoever, Marcia was always thinking that Stephen was having affairs. After all he was lovely. Tall and slim with long, blonde hair turning grey, he Travesti had a great body and dressed immaculately managing to be cool and stylish without seeming to be trying to look too young. Not an easy knack, but he pulled it off both with formal and casual clothes.

Most of her friends told her how lucky she was to have such a gem. Marcia, with her lack of empathy and understanding of other people, ascribed her own standards and morals to her husband and to others. Stephen, a psychologist understood such thinking, after all that was what he was trained to do. He accepted that his wife would assume he would behave as she did, but until he had recruited Kate, it hadn’t really entered his mind, despite many opportunities.

He had come so close with Kate, his Medical Assistant for a couple of months. So close that they had ended up in a hotel room masturbating, but not fucking.

The most uncanny aspect of his brief relationship with Kate, was how Marcia seemed to know his feelings about his assistant; almost before he did. She used those in bed. Several times, after an emotionally steamy day with Kate, Stephen would get into bed with Marcia. She would somehow sense his aroused thinking about Kate and her full breasts and slightly oversized bum and would start talking about her and them. That would arouse Stephen even more and several times as he fucked his wife, not only did he make out it was Kate, but Marcia made out she was her as well.

“Feel my big tits Stephen,” she would moan as he slid into her and “Oh yes Stephen you’re making Kate cum” as he gave her an orgasm.

Yes, not only did Marcia not wear underwear, she also had an unusually voracious sexual appetite, a wide range of sexual interests, well fetishes really, no discernable morals at all and a totally selfish approach, “If I want it, I’ll have it and fuck the consequences.” Marcia lived for the buzz.

Chapter 3.

“Follow me, big boy,” Marcia said removing her hand from Gareth’s bulge, which rather disappointingly hadn’t started to grow.

“Where we going?”

“To fuck, where do you think? That is, of course, if you’re still able to after sticking it to Ms Goody Twoshoes, the blessed Sammi.” Marcia replied leading him out of the marquee and round the side of the garage.

“You’d be surprised at her,” Gareth replied.

“Darling, I was totally gobsmacked when I saw her stockings, is there more to know?”

“Maybe,” Gareth said, unusually for him feeling protective and warm towards Sammi. Usually when he’d fucked a bird he didn’t want to know and didn’t care what happened to her. Sammi seemed different somehow, but then half-sisters probably do.

“So where we going.”

“Well, the lovely Amanda provided some of her closest friends, including moi of course, with a refuge. A little dressing room and loo for our exclusive use.”

“Mmmm, handy.”

Walking up the narrow and rather steep back staircase, Gareth’s face was only inches from Marcia’s undulating arse. He never ceased to be amazed at its awesome shape and her wiggle, which was the most erotic he had ever seen. He ran his fingers over the two orbs.

“Still no underwear, M?”

“Of course not, you know I don’t wear such stuff, prefer the freedom me.”

The mere though of her nakedness under the tight trousers and her bare tits in the shirt started to get him hard. When Marcia had come on to him, Gareth had wondered whether he’d be able to perform again, for he and Sammi had gone back for the second half a couple of hours after their first sex at around two. Those fucking stockings had a lot to answer for, he told her as he shagged her on all fours.

Luckily, he’d prepared well for the party and had taken it fairly easy during the early stages.

Unlike most Thursday nights, when the city boys partied in London and any other night when they could justify two hundred pound bottles of Chateau Petrus, a few Doms, a visit or two from their friendly dealer, often a few hugely expensive hookers and a ridiculously expensive dinner as entertaining clients, Gareth had been careful. He hadn’t popped a cocktail of pills, snorted numerous lines of coke and shoved any alcohol put in front of him down his throat. So he had got through Friday ok and he had had carefully planned Saturday.

At seven he’d take two Cialis on the basis that their effect would last longer than the ‘not to be exceeded’ dosage of ‘no more than one in any twenty four hours’; all his mates and fellow budding masters of the universe and he knew such warnings were for the birds not for real men like them. He took them as a ‘just in case’ not, of course, because he needed them, but then all the other stuff he took could slow a bloke down a bit, the city boys always told each other. And in any, case wasn’t that why pills were invented to make up for where real life disappointed or let you down?

Apart from the Champagne before dinner and whilst fucking Sammi, twice, and the white and red wine at dinner, which didn’t really count, being wine, he’d been careful and not mixed his drinks. Antalya Travesti He was pretty sure he’d stayed on vodka all night, but maybe there was a dram or two of single malt and did he have a Henessy XO or two after dinner? Still, as a near million a year trader he had been trained very well in being able to take his drink, he hardly ever fell ever and couldn’t remember the last time he passed out.

What with the booming footsie, the crashing oil price, the manic trading and the total lack of any knowledge about what was happening by anyone, least of all Gareth, who ran a ten man desk, he’d had a tough week and could well have done without this party. Hence, his careful preparation; you didn’t earn a mil a year without being able to plan, he always told his team. So, just after arriving he had taken a couple of qualludes and during the evening he had a few lines. But then, everyone one was, weren’t they, well at least the twenty or so city boys at the party were.

He was quite proud of himself, therefore, after Marcia had locked the door behind them, to feel his cock growing as if to order. True, he was laying on a small bed; true, she had taken her shirt off and let him suck her fucking amazing nipples; true she had stood before him in the tight, shiny, black trousers and gradually eased them off revealing her nakedness under them; true she had flashed her totally bald cunt at him and true she had then completely undressed him.

‘Ok’ he had to admit ‘it was taking longer than normal.’ ‘Ok’ he acknowledged, ‘Marcia was working harder than normal, and ‘for sure’ he muttered, when with her mouth stuffed full of his cock, she’d asked, “Any good babe?”

“Come on stud,” Marcia whispered her tongue licking the length of his semi-hard dick as her finger found his anal hole. “You want that Gal?”


“Will it help?”


“What are you thinking?” She asked, sliding her finger up to the first knuckle into his arse.

“How I want to fuck you?” He replied diplomatically, scared to say that he was really thinking’ I hope the fuck that I get hard soon.”

“I hope you aren’t thinking of Sandra Dee are you?”

“No, of course not, not with you here.”

“Yeah, right bollocks,” Marcia said pushing hard with her finger so it slid well into Gareth’s arse, hurting a bit, as it was intended, but also reaching his prostate.

“Come on Marc, you know me.”

“Yes I fucking well do know you and know well that you’re thinking of our little virginal nun in her sexy hold up stockings aren’t you?”

This was a tactic Marcia had worked with several men including her husband Stephen; find their real turn on and talk to them about that.

“No, honest I was thinking of your arse in those trousers.”

“In them? What’s wrong with it out of them?” Marcia asked wiggling round so her bum was closer to him. Her finger still up his arse.

Gareth laughed, stroking her beautifully rounded bum that showed not the slightest hint of sagging or, worse, cellulite. She really did have a great arse, he thought slipping his finger into the crease between the perfectly symmetrical cheeks.

Still not fully hardening, he was getting worried. He knew from previous times with hookers that he was in that viscious circle; it doesn’t get hard, you think too much, then worry and that stops you getting hard. Twice he’d done that with thousand a night hookers, the bitches.

“And what, may I ask is Ms Goody Two Shoes’ arse like, or were you too busy with her lovely little tits?”

“Both are great,” he replied.

“So you are thinking of her?”

“No, I’m not.”

“I bet you would like her to be here right now wouldn’t you? Like when we had that hooker, her and me fucking you?”

“Sounds divine,” Gareth grunted his fingers finding the wet warmness of Marcia’s pussy. ‘Fuck she really does have hot juices,’ he thought wondering if the temperature of women’s secretions varies very much. He made a mental note to give the new trainee that as a project to research, but was brought back to the wonderful reality of Marcia burying his cock deep in her mouth and sucking him long and hard. He still wasn’t hard though, he guiltily realised.

“I know you would like darling Sammi sitting across your face right now, her young sweet cunt dropping its juices right into your mouth as I suck your cock and you suck her fucking nylons wouldn’t you?”

“Oh God,” he grunted. “Would you like that Em? Would you like Sammi to be here so you could suck her cunt.?”

“I’d rather she was sucking mine, perhaps I’ll ask her, you reckon she swings?”

“No idea, but most girls do a bit nowadays,” he said feeling those welcomingly familiar hardening sensations as Marcia continued.

“Wouldn’t you like to walk behind both of us with us wearing tight trousers and you fondling our bums?

“Finding out neither of you was wearing panties?” He offered.

“Yes both of us without our knickers,” Marcia grunted between sucking and licking his cock that was now nearly there. “And then, Gary Bursa Travesti as we take them off you see we are both wearing stockings and we say, fuck us in these stockings Gareth.”

He was so relieved to find that he was now fairly hard and that Marcia had climbed onto the bed, got onto all fours and was saying.

“Now fuck me, not Sammi.”

She was soaking. ‘But then’ he smiled as he slid so easily into his third cunt, well second, but third time, of the evening, ‘She always is fucking wet.’ Briefly wondering if she really was a nympho, he pushed himself as far into Marcia as he could and then held his cock embedded right up her. Gareth then wrapped himself round her body his hands finding her almost flat tits, his fingers pinching her long, dark nipples. It felt good, it was comfortable, he liked laying like that the warmth of her insides gripping his pleasantly respectable erection, his fingers pinching and rolling her long, rubbery nipples.

“Harder, cityboy,” she grunted.

He pinched harder.

“No not there you fucking maniac, fuck me harder I mean. I thought you had gone to sleep.”

In fact, Gareth could easily have done that. What with all the booze, he had actually drunk several single malts and a few Hennessy XOs in addition to the wine and champagne, the line, or was it two, of coke Bret, a broker he worked with, had provided and of course the two shags with his half-sister, he was feeling tired. However, that he put down to the time, it must have been almost getting light, real cityboys aren’t really affected by booze or drugs are they?

He started to fuck Marcia. He started pulling almost all the way out then plundering himself all the way in. It didn’t work properly. She was so wet and had her legs wide open so it was a bit like fucking a jelly, nice and smooth, but no friction, he thought.

“Close your fucking legs,” he growled.

“Why?” Marcia asked knowing that many men, including Gareth’s father Kevin liked her ‘wide-open’ position.

“Its better,” he slurred.

Marcia could feel this going badly wrong. Gareth was far further gone than she had thought and she was worried he wouldn’t be able to perform properly, he hadn’t done very well so far. It happened sometimes she knew, but not to her. Marcia prided herself on that. In all the time she had been unfaithful to her husband by committing adultery, which she often giggled, coincided almost perfectly with the length of their marriage, for she’d had two little adventures on their six-week honeymoon, no man had ever ‘lost it’ with her. Gareth, though, had come near a couple of times and this was, by far the most worrying.

She did close her legs a bit and that gave him more friction, but also applied more pressure to his cock, which was not fully hard. As he slid backwards after one deep thrust, he obviously went a little too far and he popped right out.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned grasping his dick and trying to find the way back in.

“Come on Gareth for Christ’s sake,” Marcia rather unhelpfully urged.

He began to panic. He didn’t seem to be able to find the way in and, certainly, he couldn’t get the angle right, that’s not always easy when a woman’s arse is pointing upwards. On top of that, the more he tried the more he softened and the more his head seemed to be losing touch with his body.

Marcia felt and sensed what was happening. She had two choices, get dressed and walk out and maybe try and get another fuck from someone or, work on Gareth. Her manipulative mind weighed up the options. There were only two other guys there who she could reasonably proposition. Kevin, Gareth’s dad, who she’d been having an affair with for a while. It was his and Amanda’s party, though, and the chances of him being able to get away and spend time with her were limited and Ken. He was one of her husband’s medical colleagues with whom she had bonked at a conference she had attended with Stephen, which was a very rare event. Again, though, she doubted if he would be able to get away from his fat, straight-laced shrew of a wife. So working on the bird in the hand principle’ she decided to fuck Gareth.

“Don’t worry baby,” she cooed turning and falling flat on the bed. Come and lay here next to Aunty.

Marcia probably was a nymphomaniac. Certainly, she had a need for a great deal of sex on a very regular basis and, without doubt, when she started on a sexual jaunt there was little, in fact nothing she could think of, that could stop her. So now, naked, on a bed with one of her young studs, she smiled, and having had his dick in her, she had to finish.

“Let Aunty get you hard,” Gareth heard as if through a badly tuned microphone.

This wasn’t that familiar territory to her. Marcia enjoyed sex, not romance. She was in it for the buzz, not the tenderness, the satisfaction not so much the pleasure, the outcome not the chase. To her, the fuck was the objective not the foreplay, which often she forewent. On top of that, men normally followed her, they did as she instructed, she directed events not them. And she rarely, if ever chose extended foreplay. She realised now though, that was needed if she was to get what she wanted and that was for Gareth to fuck her, which was now an emotional as well as strongly physical need for her; she was like a junky needing that fix.

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