Thursday, January 03, 2013

Sex Story Competition

Kinky Halo are holding a sex story writing competition, the theme is school fantasies.

Kinky Halo Erotic Story Competition.

There's a $50 prize so get your writing heads on and send them your entry.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Free Sex Story Website

We've opened up a new site with lots of out old kinky sex stories and a lot of new ones. In fact over the next couple of days there's a free sex story for those into lactation kink and those of you who like waters ports in the bedroom. Both of these are firsts for me so I'd be interested to see what you all think of them.

They can both be found over at

You might also be interested to know that the Sex Stories can be viewed on your cell phone!

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Elliot Brown - Part 5

This story was originally published on 7 April 2006.

In the entrance hall of the governor’s office a small round beetle of a man scurried scarab like across the marble toward the reception desk. He peered at the young, nameless Barbie doll off a girl behind the counter, “You have a package for me.”

She opened her mouth to ask his name, but before she could utter the words he said “It’s Thompson, J Thompson”. She mutely handed over the UPS envelope, a pen and a receipt pad. Thompson scribbled his name on the pad and handed it back to the girl. Stopping only to give the slightest of nods to the girl he turned on his heels and walked briskly to the elevators. Envelope in hand and pen stowed in his jacket pocket he ascended to the thirty-ninth floor.


Louis Baker Governor of the city reviewed the contents of his desk. From here he controlled the last remnants of civilisation not relocated to the moon, Mars and beyond. The job had been good to him. As the population dwindled, bribing the remaining civil servants had become easier and therefore fixing the elections to ensure his extended tenure much less expensive. They were all desperate to gather the funds to move off-world and therefore easily “persuaded”.

As for his desk, he kept it clear. A few antiques on its tooled leather top, desk blotter, lamp, wooden in and out trays. He had no real duties to perform, his lackeys did that. But today his desk had a new ornament, young blonde, naked and eager to please. Her shaven pussy beckoned him. Slender legs draped over the edge or the ancient mahogany.

He unzipped himself, cock springing from his flies. “All hail the god of pharmaceuticals!” he thought as he approached her.


Elliot stood in the shadow of one of the great gothic buttresses of the governor’s office. Waiting.

His cell phone beeped a message alert. It was time. The security pad of the manhole cover at his feet chirped and flashed. The cover flipped open and Elliot dropped inside.


Louis waddled forward, pants now around his ankles. His cock nuzzled her labia. Finding her dry he spat on his hand and wet his glans. He slid into her unsteadily, shuffling forward and pulling her to the edge of the desk.

Liver spotted hands grasped at her spherical silicone breasts soliciting an “Ooooh”.

He began to slide in and out of her pussy. It began to moisten as she imagined the twenty year old fuck of her dreams ploughing into her.


Elliot walked calmly down empty corridors. Cameras blindly patrolled from high corners, their feeds bypassed by Jim and looped onto an endless uneventful recording. Elliot unscrewed the lift shaft access panel swung himself inside. He opened a junction box to his left and placed a small black box next to the mass of wiring.

He dialled a short number on his cell phone and waited. Thirty seconds later the lift car hurtled down the shaft, slowing to a stop one floor below him. He jumped on the roof, dialled another number and tried to enjoy the ride.


Panting and perspiring Louis pounded at his young companion like a geriatric jackhammer. Veins on his temples pulsed and threatened to burst. He skin became more parchment like with every thrust.

Like a prostrate cheerleader she urged him on. He liked that, amongst other things. This she could put up with, the other things, they really tested her resolve. But so what, she would have enough money soon and then … damn it girl concentrate, the old bastard needs a good show!

He pulled out of her, though it may have been more of a stagger caused by light-headedness than a conscious decision on his part. She slid off the desk, taking her opportunity. He liked head and this would make him blow quicker than yet another marathon session on her back.

Instead of the corrupt, loathsome example of humanity using her body for his pleasure she saw a dark haired muscular youth. Olive skin, deep brown eyes, cock like a baseball bat. He was stretching her, hitting the spot, making her wetter with every thrust. Teasing her with orgasm after orgasm, then letting her rest, allowing the waves of ecstasy to ebb before thrusting powerfully into her again.


The elevator stopped at the thirty-ninth floor. The doors opened, someone shuffled inside, then shuffled out again. Elliot dropped through the trapdoor in the roof as the doors closed.

He picked up the UPS envelope and emptied the contents onto the carpet. The pen slid onto the cell phone with quiet click. The barrel was unscrewed. Elliot forced himself to exhale then inhaled hard and deep through his nose. The small bullet hit the back of his throat, he coughed it into his hand and slid it into the weapon.

Elliot stood and selected the top floor.


The old man’s hands gripped her head, pulling her onto his chemically hardened cock. He began to come to the girl’s relief, she was gagging and not relishing Louis’s attention today. She had shoes to buy. Louis had screwed this city for his wealth and power, so buying a girl a few trinkets was not going to bankrupt him.

With his final “Aaaw Gaaawd!” Louis made his deposit in the girl’s throat, she did her best to look overjoyed. Not that Loius noticed, he was dizzy from his exertions.

Elliot Brown, removal man opened the office door and raised his weapon. “By the power invested in me by the city council and the authority of this removal order I declare you removed.”. Louis was silhouetted against the office window.

He pulled the trigger.

No! Something was wrong, either this guy jerked off in the office or someone else had removed his pants. The girl screamed as she stood up from behind the desk, cum still running down her chin.

The bullet entered her left eye socket, lodged in her anterior cortex, then exploded. Her headless corpse slumped to the floor leaving the open mouthed Louis covered in blood, soft tissue and bone.

Elliot dropped the weapon and it began to sublime, nanobots converting it’s structure to anonymous gasses before self destructing themselves.

Elliot ran. He had committed the worst crime a remover could commit. Removing the wrong human being.

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Elliot Brown - Part 4

This story was originally published on 3 April 2006.

Elliot picked up the package containing his weapon from Eve’s empty apartment. She was probably in an illegal bar on the fringes of the commercial quarter oiling the wheels of the black market with the money he had paid her for his custom piece. She could handle herself, but he did not let his mind linger on how dangerous it was for a woman, alone with $60,000 in her pocket such parts of the city were.

Yes he still cared about her, but his relationship with her was one of the painful sacrifices he’d had to make in recent years. Better that he didn’t care too much, about anyone.

When he got back to the office he opened the parcel carefully and flipped the catch on the aluminium box inside. There were three pieces. The barrel, which looked like a fountain pen, the grip, disguised as a cell phone and the single bullet.

The next forty minutes were spent writing three short notes on smart paper and wrapping the pieces for delivery to the governor’s office. A ten minute walk to the UPS office and they were on their way.

Another twenty minutes through dusty streets took him into the entertainment section of the city. Every sensory pleasure was available, for a price. The stuff of dreams and nightmares huddled together in a dense collection of old buildings.

The whole district was bathed in red and purple neon light. Giant screens and holo-projectors insinuated the enjoyment to be had by immersing yourself into the depravity of the neighbourhood. Male, female and everything in between with dildos, touching themselves suggestively. It was curiously un-erotic, everything on display, joyless, the precursor to a business transaction rather than an act of love making.

He walked past the live displays, men and women for every persuasion, calling out at him, sensing a prospective client. Around him milled the real clientele, men, women, couples. All here to satisfy their needs. Some brazen, laughing, loud, others furtive, avoiding his stare.

A slim brunette, looking almost old enough to be legal stepped in front of him. She wore shiny red thigh-length boots and a basque. Subtle.

“We don’t get many handsome professionals like you down here. What’s your pleasure.” She moved close to him, slipping an arm around his waist, her mouth now next to his ear. “I’m almost a virgin.” She whispered. The seed of honesty in the statement amused Elliot, which is why he didn’t break her nose.

There was a click and a switchblade appeared, pressed against the girl’s jugular. “Now, just give me back my wallet and I won’t spoil that pretty little face of yours.” His voice was quiet, level, menacing. The steel pressed against her neck was the most compelling part of the conversation.

She released his waist and proffered the wallet. “BASTARD!”, she shouted as he walked away.

He reached his destination and entered. Money changed hands, or to be more accurate, a bank credit was made and the final piece of the removal was positioned.


There was a knock at the door. Jim ignored it. A few minutes later a louder knock rattled down the hallway. Cursing he got up, fragments of potato chips falling to the carpet and becoming lost amongst the accumulated detritus.

A piece of smart paper had been slipped under the door. He stooped to pick it up, abundant ass cleavage making a brief appearance as he did so. Placing his thumb on the ident-square made the message visible. He read the note, smiled a lascivious smile and confirmed deletion. The note crackled, fizzed and disappeared, leaving only a blue wisp of acrid smoke in the air.

He opened the door to be greeted by a plump platinum blonde prostitute. Heavy makeup covered her leathery skin, in an attempt to disguise her advancing years. A light weight blouse with low neckline made no attempt to disguise her huge breasts. “Hi, I’m Rosa, you must be Jim”

Elliot knew what Jim liked.

Jim took Rosa to the bedroom. She undressed herself swiftly. He lay on the bed and she undressed him. “Honey, I’m gonna have to wash that before you put it near me!”. He just smiled as she walked off to the kitchen.

She returned with a bowl of water and a grubby face cloth. He was already semi hard, the sight of her pallid buttocks jiggling as she walked to the kitchen and the sway of her breasts as she returned had seen to that. She soaped his groin, hands moving around his stiffening member, under his balls, tickling his ass. He stank, and there was no way she was sucking this lollipop until all she could smell was soap.

His sanitised, throbbing member was about ready to squirt. Let’s put on a show for him she thought. She grabbed his peaked cap from the bedside table and placed it at what she considered a provocative angle on her head, becoming an honorary security guard for the night.

Then she began a slow grotesque ballet. As he watched from the bed she gyrated and swayed her way around the room, graceful as a bulldozer, light as a boulder, lithe as an iceberg. Her hands stoked her curves, fondled her own ass cheeks and cupped her breasts. Her nipples, framed in saucer sized areola were squeezed and pulled.

She pouted, she shimmied, she even turned her back on Jim and did her best doe-eyed look over her shoulder. Then as a finale she bent over to display her great round ass.

Jim had resisted the urge to jerk off while watching her, but his quivering cock dribbled its appreciation over his belly. She sat on the edge of the bed and grasped him in one hand. “Did you like my little dance?”. False eyelashes fluttered at him. Then with an agility not betrayed by her earlier terpsichore she swung her self onto the bed and over his face.

He was locked into a suffocating 69 in a prison of fleshy thighs. His hands reached up and each took possession of a hand full of buttock. Rosa then attempted to prolong what threatened to be the shortest blowjob of her career with Jim lapping at her labia.

“Aaaah!” she moaned in “ecstasy”.

“Hmmmhffffhhmmmm”, he replied.


Then finally Jim’s muffled exclamation of “Yeah baby!” marked the end of proceedings as he unloaded his balls into her mouth. Rosa, consummate professional, managed to dump most of the product of his passion onto the bedsheets whilst simultaneously licking his cock and exclaiming “Sugar, you taste so good.”

Jim fell asleep while Rosa cleaned up his flopping tool. She then helped herself to the remains of a bottle of bourbon from his kitchen cupboards. The virgin bottle of vodka and twenty “Isle O’ Joy” cigarettes found themselves safely stowed in her capacious handbag.

After a two hour “nap” Jim woke to find his bed occupied by Rosa, complete with pink feather boa. “How’d you like to fill me up with that big hunk o’ meat you got down there?” she asked. Rosa rolled onto her back and assumed the position.

Jim hauled himself up on to his knees, erection waving like that of an excited puppy. He clambered over the prone pro and slid into her well lubed folds. “Oh My!” she gasped in mock surprise.

As Jim pumped away between her legs her great tits rolled too and fro. Their owner, cried out to the neighbouring apartments, advertising the quality, size and stamina of her new lover. Which had the desired effect of making the whole act mercifully short. Jim was a sucker for compliments.

Jim rolled off Rosa and reach for his cellphone. He sent a brief message



Elliot’s cell phone beeped. He took it from his pocket and read the message. A smile flickered briefly across his lips. His route to the target would be clear.

He walked slowly home from the office. Savouring the evening atmosphere in the city, knowing this might be the last time he did so.

The life around him represented what was left of society on earth. The few people yet to abandon this husk of a planet that had been so ravaged by war and pollution that most of the surviving population had chosen to live off-world. They were eclectic, cosmopolitan, decadent and corrupt. Many just scratching a living scavenging the remains of once great societies from the wastelands. All of them on the edge of oblivion.

He didn’t love the city, hate would be a much more accurate appraisal of his feelings toward the place, but it was part of him as he was a part of it. Locked together in a mutual dependency that neither seemed able to break. Though he knew that one day the city would be the one to dissolve that relationship.

And that day might just be tomorrow.

Thursday, March 30, 2006

Elliot Brown - Part 3

This story was originally published on 22 March 2006.

Tuesday Eveneing
Eve was tied to the bed blindfolded, naked and vulnerable. The room was silent, insulated from the noise of the adjoining brothel. Laying there spread-eagled on her back she remembered when this had been a familiar part of her life. When her and Elliot had been a team, at work and in their up-town apartment. But that was long gone, their lives irrevocably altered by the city’s brutal codes. The reality of this place was so well hidden from the wealthy elite by a veneer of civilisation, and so cruelly obvious to the rest of the population.

Just as she felt her mood becoming melancholic she sensed him enter the room. He moved like a cat, almost silently. He was naked, she could tell, no sound of clothes moving only the quietest of footfalls, and occasionally the sound of his breathing.

She waited for the first sign that he was close to her, perhaps his breath on her neck? But no, he had time to play. She could feel the heat of his body close to her thigh, his hand probably, hovering a few inches above her skin. The hand moved slowly up and across her stomach and on to her breasts. He had not touched her yet her nipples were hard and hot. Eve felt herself becoming breathless.

Elliot still did not touch her, prolonging the suspense. Would it be a gentle caress of her firm expectant breast? A tongue probing her pussy lips, searching for an opening? She began to squirm at the thought of it, raising her body slightly from the bed, rolling to one side, straining at her bonds.

She heard the crack of his hand on her buttock, milliseconds later she felt the stinging jolt of pain. He had been waiting for her to expose soft flesh of her ass, letting her reveal her soft skin to be struck. She was a willing participant in this game, a game that he controlled.

Her skin began to display the imprint of his single blow, developing like a photograph under the red glow of a safelight. She relished the though, knowing the acute pain she now sensed would soon dull, but the impression would remain on her flesh, perhaps for days. She craved for more, a switch on her thighs, clamps on her … but that wasn’t Elliot’s style, he enjoyed the thought that the cruel caress of his palm on her backside aroused her but would never indulge her desires to the full.

A hand cupped a breast, Eve felt the nipple being sucked into his mouth, lips wide. He teased the tip with his tongue, rolling the nipple around against the areola. His teeth brushed against the engorged tip, still he maintained a partial vacuum, drawing more blood to the reddening button.

His hand was in her hair again, pulling her head back sharply. She released a moan of joyful resignation.

Then she felt it, the hot hardness of his cock against her leg. The pulsing iron rod in its velvety sheath of skin. Her tongue flicked across her lips willing him to hurry. Wanting him to enter her. But wanting him to control her first, wanting him to demand her submission. Wanting to submit to him without question. Wanting him.

She became immersed in the thought of what he would do to her, how cruel he would let himself be to her…

Then he was gone. No hands on her flesh, no tongue probing and darting. He had not left the room, she was sure of that. She heard an almost inaudible noise at the foot of the bed. The clink of something against glass. What was it?

The ice and water drenched her breasts just as she realised his intention. She yelped as the cold water hit her and arched her back. She tried to lower herself as the shock and cold subsided, but couldn’t. The ice that had been in the jug now lay on the bed under and around her. She squirmed and pulled at the ropes.

A hand holding a lump of ice traced its way down from her neck, between her breasts and to her most sensitive lips. Her clitoris stung as the glacier drove between the valley of her thighs, the tiny strip of pubic hair no defence against the chill.

He held the ice there, against her writhing body. It began to melt, sending a rivulet of icy water between her labia. The melt water reached her ass and wet her anus, cooling it, making it contract and tighten.

The it was gone, replaced by his hot cock. It nudged her lips apart and drove into her pussy. Her lips where deathly cold, but inside a warm wet cavern welcomed the pulsing intruder.

She tilted her hips to allow him to thrust deeper. Now, even restricted by her bound ankles he was reaching the back of her. She could feel, or thought she could feel, the blood coursing through his cock.

Her first orgasm arrived almost immediately. She threw her head from side to side. She pulled the rops on her arms so taught one started to sting as it sheared the epidermis from her wrist.

She imagined him above her, pumping, thrusting his huge cock into her. And it was huge, because he was cumming. So was she, only seconds after her first orgasm, before she had time to float down from that euphoria another tsunami of pleasure washed over her.

He pumped into her, shrieking and moaning, pumping his seed into her.

They lay for several minutes, his cum beginning to dribble from her red swollen pussy, before he untied her. They showered, separately, before he left.

“It’ll be ready for you Thursday. Pick it up after lunch. ”, said Eve as he was about leave.

“I’ll see you then.”

Friday, March 24, 2006

Elliot Brown - Part 2

This story was originally published on 19 March 2006.

Tuesday Eveneing

She blinked as the laser scanned her retina. “Good evening Mrs Baker”, greeted the rich rounded voice of the apartment’s security system. “Good evening George”, she replied. Her husband was still out. He’d be another couple of hours, recovering from his infidelity with that young slut no doubt.

She would have to entertain herself until then. She flung her suit and hat on to the bed and headed for the bathroom.

A luxurious soak with a bottle of 2012 Ch√Ęteauneuf-du-Pape, sixty years old. Sealed in its bottle by the hands of a long dead artisan in the desert that used to be called France. “George, open the blinds.” The blinds on the west facing floor to ceiling window slid back to allow the orange glow of the setting sun to bathe the room. Relaxed by the wine and skin caressed by the syrupy light she slid her hand between her legs.

Her fingers found her clitoris and gently stroked it. “Mmmm …”. She rolled and caressed her bud, rubbing harder. She hooked one leg over the edge of the tub, her hand sliding deeper between her thighs. She involuntarily bit her lip as her middle and ring finger slid into her swelling pussy. Her free hand cupped a breast gently squeezing. A finger rolled the nipple round and round on the areola. It swelled with blood plump and erect.

The feeling of warm water swirling inside her and her fingers working hard began to force moans of pleasure from her lips. As the sun touched the hills on the horizon she began to cum, delirious with the orgasm she shrieked and thrashed. Water sloshing over the side of the bath soaking the hardwood floor.

The waves of orgasm subsided. She rose out of the water like Venus and patted herself dry before sliding into bed. The cleaning-bots could deal with the pools of water on the bathroom floor.

The sun dipped below the horizon and Elizabeth Baker slipped into a contented sleep.


Elliot picked his way between the piles of trash on the sidewalk. Occasionally stepping into the dusty gutter when the mountains of detritus were too impenetrable. He turned into a dark alley. At the far end a flickering sign promised exotic pleasures of an oriental kind, he made towards it.

Tap. Ta-tap. Tap. He drummed out the staccato entry code. The door opened enough for him to squeeze uncomfortably through. Sliding into the oily orange murk beyond transported him to another world. In the dim candlelight he could make out figures slumped against the walls, laid on couches or wandering zombie-like through the labyrinthine corridors of the whorehouse. The smell of hemp gave way to the sickly sweet odour of opium pipes as he ventured deeper into the building.

Eventually he came upon a colonial style door like all the others he had passed, yet different. It was clean and white as if freshly painted. Elliot pressed his hand onto the middle-right panel. There was a beep, the sound of a motor drawing steel against steel and the door opened. Elliot stepped inside.


“Your Bioscan sir”, the clerk gestured towards the scanner at the end of the desk. Louis Baker stared into the scanner. The clerk looked at the name that appeared on the screen, then at Louis, then at the screen again. “I could have sworn you were …”. He was stopped short of saying Louis’s name by a rapier stare from the concierge. “Sorry Mr Jones, er, I hope you enjoyed your stay Mr Jones”.

“Very much, now can we get on I’m late already”, Louis’s brow furrowed as he glared at this obvious newcomer.

Louis and his young companion walked out of the lobby followed by every pair of male eyes. The blonde’s short skirt barely covered her ass. She had a provocative wiggle that betrayed practice rather than poise but did the trick all the same.


The room was brightly lit and made Elliot squint. A comfortable looking red sofa occupied the centre of the space, facing a 150” plasma screen. Lab equipment covered one wall, the other hosted an open-plan kitchen. Everything was spotless. He peered from beneath a furrowed brow at his supplier. She was about five feet tall with a toned body and olive skin. Her name was Eve.

“Hello Elliot. It’s been a long time.”

“Too long.”

“I’d like to think this is a social call but I suspect you’re looking for something.”, ventured Eve, pouting playfully.

“I’ve got an important job, high security location. I need a multi-part composite weapon. Single shot and totally scanner transparent”, said Elliot flatly.

“You’re straight to the point aren’t you?”, purred Eve, moving toward him. “And just why do you need such a specialised, expensive piece?”, she asked as her hand came to rest on his crotch.

“The target’s in the Governor’s office.”

Eve took a step back and stared straight into Elliot’s eyes. “You’re insane. Who is it?”

“Probably, and don’t ask. Say, do you have a drink, I could do with one.”

“I’ve got just the thing …”

She returned with two glasses and an unopened bottle of whisky. “Single Malt, nearly 100 years old.” The label did indeed say single malt, but from which distillery was a mystery. The place of its origin long since worn away by the passage through the hands of a dozen scavengers.

They drank together, exchanging small talk, until there was nothing left to say. Then they simply drank together on the large sofa and watched the history channel. It was relaxing to see trees again, so relaxing that soon Elliot dozed off.

He woke from a warm black treacle of a dream to find himself hard. A mouth was at work on his throbbing cock. He looked south to see the top of Eve’s head bobbing up and down on his shaft. She was knelt between his legs, topless, rubbing her boobs with one hand. The other grasping his cock, augmenting her mouth’s attentions.

She looked up at him, “I figured this might be the last time I see you alive so what the heck!” He did not object, just lay back and let the sensations wash over him. He reached down and stoked her hair. She slurped at his cock, teased and bit him, then engulfed him, over and over. He took hold of her ponytail and pushed her down on to his erection, she coughed as he grazed her throat.

He felt his orgasm rising, and so did she. She stopped, waiting for the moment to pass, but not to recede entirely. She pounced on him again, this time the orgasm was unstoppable, the ejaculation intense and copious. Hot semen filled her mouth, her efforts to swallow the torrent not quite enough.

She raised her head, strings of saliva and semen dripping from her lips. His cock was glistening too, Eve’s hand still gently rubbing it, making him gasp when she ventured too close to his now sensitised glans.

He grabbed hold of her ponytail again a handful of hair at the back of her head and roughly pulled her face to within an inch of his. “Thank you”, she said. “You don’t know what I’m going to do to you yet.”

“No, but I can imagine …”, her train of thought interrupted as he kissed her, his tongue probing her mouth, tasting himself there.

Monday, March 20, 2006

Elliot Brown - Part 1

This story was originally published on 13 March 2006.


A trail of clothes led from the door of the hotel room to the bed. Two glistening bodies heaved and strained against one another. She lay, blonde hair spread on the pillow, eyes closed, moaning, her young over-enhanced breasts pointed to the ceiling. She implored him to fuck her, impale her with his manhood.

He needed no instruction, no encouragement. His brow was beaded with perspiration. Grey hair wet with his own sweat stuck to his scalp. “Do you want me to fuck you harder?”, he gasped. “Oh, yes!”, came the reply. He gathered himself for a final assault on her pussy. Hoping against hope he would not disappoint her.


His office was set just outside the buzzing hub of the city. The rent was cheaper and his type of business didn’t attract passing trade. City bylaws meant he couldn’t advertise, but an exemplary reputation for efficiency and discretion meant he was never without clients.

He sat facing the door. It’s yellowed glass bearing his practice’s name and trade. “Elliot Brown, Investigations, Surveillance and Removals”. Removals was his speciality. Any dumb ass could track and observe an errant husband skulk into his girlfriend’s apartment when he was supposed to be out with the guys, while his wife looked after the kids. Any fool could trace a maverick employee gone AWOL with the contents of the company’s safe. Hell, with only half a million people left on this planet how difficult could that be?

Elliot did removals, fully licenced, above board, legal removals. Not a back street hit man but a skilled practitioner, almost an artist.

The nicotine yellow light of midday seeped in through the cracked window behind him illuminating the motes of dust filling the stifling air. He sat at a wooden desk, replete with piles of paper, a 1923 Corona and Elliot’s link to the government’s Datanet. It was a small flat screened terminal, almost new but already flickering intermittently. Elliot rapped the top of the screen with his fingertips in that age old ritual men perform when fixing any appliance gone faulty. “Can’t we make anything that works any more?”, he muttered.

A knock at the door interrupted his musings on the state of society’s inability to maintain its infrastructure. “Come”, he instructed curtly.

As the door opened, the silhouette he saw through the frosted glass resolved itself into the figure of a dark haired woman. She was about forty years old, 5’ 6” and dressed in a blue government issue skirt suit and wide brimmed hat. “So she’ll be able to pay”, thought Elliot, satisfied she was worth considering as a client.

She strode into the room, possessing it at she did so. This lady had presence.

“May I sit?”, she asked. Elliot waved a hand, indicating the worn leather chair next to her. She sat with her legs together, short skirt riding up to reveal the tops of her black stockings. She sat not quite facing Elliot, her blouse was unbuttoned low enough to reveal an inviting glimpse of breast. Both calculated to appeal to his libido, both working perfectly.

“I’ll come straight to the point Mr Brown, I have a removal I want you to carry out.”. Her voice was level, matter of fact, but not cold. She was simply stating a requirement. The fact that that requirement involved the death of another human being seemed irrelevant.

Elliot reached into a drawer and pulled out a form. “You’ll need to fill this out and submit it to …”.

“I already have the necessary approvals.” She handed him a completed approvals form signed, dated and stamped by the removals committee. He noticed his name was already filled in as remover. This lady knew what she wanted.

Elliot suddenly became aware of the swelling in his groin. Maybe it was the self assuredness of this woman, or the expensive perfume which wafted over the desk, but he wanted her.

“It’s my husband”, she explained. “He’s been unfaithful to me since our wedding day, he drinks heavily and I have proof that he has been removing funds from our joint account and into one of his own.”

“OK, seems pretty straightforward. My fee is $100,000 credited in advance.” said Elliot. He looked down at the form she had handed him, he read the target’s name. His blood ran cold in his veins. “You’re married to him?”

“I’ll pay $250,000”, she said rising to her feet and walking round the desk. “And I’ll be very grateful when the job’s done”. Her perfectly manicured hand stroked his cheek.

Elliot swallowed hard to try and shift the lump in his throat, but the apprehension and sexual tension the woman was causing him meant that neither it or the lump in his trousers was going away soon. “It’ll be done by Friday”.

She was gone, only her fragrance hanging in the air to remind Elliot of her visit. Well that and the throbbing in his groin …

Elliot walked down the corridor to the rest room. It was unoccupied. Selected a cubicle and locked himself in.

He reached inside his trousers for his swollen cock. His intention had been to relieve his erection by peeing but now the throbbing member was in his hand he could think of nothing but fucking his new client with it. That was of course her intention, she had no right to presume he would take the removal contract and had ensured that he had every reason to do so. The empty promise of a liaison on completion was all part of her negotiation.

Despite knowing all this Elliot began to stroke his hard cock. He closed his eyes, imagining what it would be like to undress her. Feel her breasts, pinch her nipples, suck and lick at each soft mound. He imagined her hand closing on his cock, his hand rubbing her pussy through her panties…

His groin tightened and began to pump jet after jet of semen into the toilet bowl. “Aaaahh!”, was the only sound he allowed himself as he came for what seemed like minutes.


In the hotel room the man growled as he came, thrusting as hard as his body would allow him into the blonde prostrate beneath him. For her part she came, or gave the impression that she did. He was never sure these days, was it an act for him?

Some times it bothered him, the deceit. She was young enough to be his daughter, almost young enough to be his granddaughter, what could she possible get out of this but his money? But most of the time he didn’t care, or at least told himself he didn’t. He enjoyed having this young, firm body underneath him and a few lies never hurt anyone. Did they?

He made a mental note to see his doctor, she had nearly killed him this time. He was damned if he was going to let his failing health deny him this pleasure.