Our Porge

 

“FUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!” She would have screamed it out loud, if she could have been sure of not being heard. As it was, she screamed it deep into her heart, where it burnt, scraped, and dug, till she folded up double on her bed with anguish.

She looked again at her phone.

Sorry, love. It’s over.

Four words. She stared at them again. She did not cry. For she was not sad as such. Nor even angry. Just in pain, bereft, despairing.

She lay back on her bed trembling, fists clenched against breasts. And in her abandonment, she pondered. She knew how she had got here. But, though she did not know how to escape, she knew what she wanted. She had wanted to, yearned to, for ages. And now, more than ever, she needed it – and now she was free.

She thought again. Now, or another time? It would be harder once she got home, because too many people would find out. So it was now or never.

Now.

She tiptoed out of her room and down the staircase, so as not to wake her neighbours. Out the front door, round the quad, past the porters’ lodge, into the town. It was dark and deserted, but warm. The college ramparts and chapel spires made soft silhouettes against the midsummer sky which, even at this deepest time of the night, harboured a tiny glimmer of not-quite-blackness from over the horizon.

As she walked, she saw that the town was empty.

She paused. This wasn’t a solution, was it? This was not wise.

But this was what she had wanted for so long. Freedom to do this – to go where her mind had gone so often. In a day’s time it would be too late. So, just this once. And then it would be all right. It would be different. Wouldn’t it?

She knew where to go. She had seen them there before. And so she walked onward, through the town centre, past colleges, over the river, across the Backs, along one of those footpaths heading west out of town, over a pedestrian bridge across the motorway, up a small hill, till she could see the grey skyline of the town behind her, distant, crenellated and proud, ruined only by the brutalist outline of the library tower.

She paused again. She knew this was not wise. But she wanted it. Oh God, how she wanted it.

~

“‘Appy Anniversary, luv!” Reg beamed, as he sat facing his wife over the candlelit remains of crêpes suzette. Pat had a sympathetic round face, graced with a gentle grin which five pregnancies, two miscarriages and a menopause had not managed to efface. Though older than Pat, Reg was still relatively slender, and his hair was not quite all grey.

“Thirty year!” sighed Pat. “Where ‘as it all gone?”

“Remember when we met, down Mosborough way – ‘oo was it, our Jackie’s birthday?”

“An’ you were too shy to dance – but I made you!”

“Well, you were prettiest girl in t’ room, weren’t you?” Reg grinned.

“Oh, long time since I were pretty…” sighed Pat wistfully.

“Rubbish!” replied Reg. “You’re still pretty: there’s just – ‘ow do I put it – more of you!”

“Tha can bugger off, Mister Blagg!” Pat chided him mockingly. “If you want your payback, you’ll ‘ave to do better ’n that!”

“Payback? What payback?” replied Reg, with an exaggerated air of innocence.

“Gi’e o’er, Reg, I saw you slipping that little blue pill int’ your wallet.”

“Oh, rumbled again,” groaned Reg.

“Go on then,” smiled Pat. “You’ve wined and dined me and listened to me wittering on about nowt all evening, you deserve it.”

“Shall I get t’ bill then?” grinned Reg enthusiastically.

“Before I change me mind!” laughed Pat. “But you’d better tek that pill first – otherwise I’m going to be disappointed!”

They laughed.

~

Georgie,

I’m sorry, love, but this can’t go on. I know it’s hard being away from home and all. But we said we’d wait for each other. And I have. Every moment I think of you makes me happy. But now every moment I think of you, it’s agony.

I love you, Georgie. But I can’t share you. Either it’s you and me and no one else, or we’re going to have to call it quits. I’m sorry, my love.

Ronnie

~

“Can’t we turn ‘em off?” asked Pat, as she removed her underwear.

“Oh, you know ‘ow much I like to see you, luv…” remonstrated Reg, as he took off his boxer shorts.

“Well, I don’t think I’m much to look at me,” pouted Pat.

“Y’are to me,” said Reg firmly, putting his arms gently around his wife, feeling her breasts squash against his slightly saggy chest.

“Well, you’re biased!” said Pat.

“‘Course I am. And just as bloody well! Don’t you want an ‘usband who biased toward you? Or would you rather I be out ogling all t’ young tarts instead?!”

“All right then, luv. Just turn off t’ big light, leave t’ little one on,” said Pat, as husband and wife lay down, drawing crisp sheets and blankets up over themselves.

~

It was there, down a country footpath, that Georgina knew she would find them. And now, at last, she sensed their voices carried through the gloom by the gentle summer breeze. It was too dark to see how many there were in the little wood tonight – but she heard two or three male voices first, clearly foreign: maybe some Eastern European fruit-picking lads out for some fun.

“You suck my cock,” commanded one of the Slavic voices through the darkness.

Georgina froze. Was he calling to her? Had she been seen? She waited, trembling.

“Me also,” came a second voice – also male and foreign, but higher pitched.

Georgina heard a thump, as if of knees on damp soil, the sound of a pair of zippers being unfastened, and a squeal from a third person – female, young.

The two men were egging the unseen girl on now: “Two cocks, bitch – you like?” The girl was responding with gulps and squeals, apparently struggling to work out how to pleasure two penises simultaneously without choking.

Georgina’s heart was pounding with excitement, nervous but eager to join in with the glorious debauchery taking place somewhere out there. The girl was clearly getting into her stride now: “Oh yeah, d’you like it when I suck your big dicks?” she spoke from the dark woods – clearly a local, by her accent. “Want me to take ‘em all the way down me fuckin’ froat?” she spat, followed by a short gurgle as she presumably did just that.

Georgina stood listening, transfixed.

~

Pat continued to chatter, for at least the next thirty minutes, whilst Reg held her softly in his arms, gently stroking down the length of her back (“Ooh, that’s nice, darling, do that some more!”), softly squeezing her ample buttocks, running his finger down the moist crack of her bottom to tickle the hindmost wisps of her pubic hair, feeling her nipples tickling his chest. Pat continued to talk about her day, about her friends, about her job (“down t’ Co-op”), and about their grown-up children – and Reg nodded and grunted the odd “hmm”, basking in the vapid but cheery loveliness which, he reckoned, he must have fallen in love with all those years ago.

“I worry for our Porge, though – don’t you, luv?” said Pat, as Reg pulled her closer, enjoying the tender sensation of her nipples rubbing against his, and feeling his penis begin to stiffen in response. “I mean, I’m as proud as you are of ‘er an’ all – especially when you consider what she’s gone through. But I don’t think things are right between ‘er and ‘er Ron. You know, I saw ‘im t’ other day down Crystal Peaks, and ‘e practically avoided me. And whenever I ask ‘er about ‘im she avoids t’ subject.”

“Well, it must be ‘ard keepin’ up t’ relationship at that distance, you know. But ‘e said ‘e’d wait for ‘er. And she’ll be ‘ome reyt soon, don’t worry…” Reg could feel his penis slowly rising and nudging against Pat’s public hair, and he kissed her. Shutting his eyes, her lips felt as soft and moist and young as they had over three decades previous – and he remembered her youthful slender beauty, her young firm breasts, and her winning smile which had swept his heart away all those years ago.

“I’m not so worried about ‘im, Reg,” replied Pat, in-between her husband’s kisses. “It’s ‘er. I don’t think she’s being… faithful – you know?”

~

Dear Georgie,

I got your letter.

What can I say? I knew it would be hard for us being apart. And I knew it would be hard for you to stay faithful – what with everything you’ve told me about yourself and what’s happened to you in the past. And if you’d said to me that you’d met someone else you love more – well, that would still hurt, but I’d know you’d be happy.

But this – this will never make you happy, love. Because this just gives you a bit of fun for a few hours, and then you’re lonely again, and looking for your next thrill. This is no way to live a life.

I can’t promise you a rose garden, my darling. But I can promise you that I’ll be there for you, always. We can get help: advice, counselling – whatever. Please, come back to me. Let’s make this work, love.

~

Georgina’s heart was now pounding with lust. “This is what I want,” she thought, as her hand reached under her skirt, pushed her moist panties to one side, and found her cunt. It was already wet, and two fingers slipped inside easily. “Fuck,” she muttered under her breath. “That’s so fucking good…”

With her pleasure came a new defiance. “You can’t hurt me anymore, Ronnie,” she spoke in the silence of her mind across the 150 or so miles which separated her from her imagined interlocutor. “You dump me, and I fucking dump you. I’ve got twenty-four hours left here, and I’m gonna spend them fucking whoever I want, however I want – and I don’t give a shit what you think.”

Placing her bottom on a large tree-stump so she could open her legs wide, Georgina began rubbing her clit hard, whilst listening to the debauchery taking place somewhere out there in the dark woods. The unseen threesome had clearly changed positions now: the girl was squealing, “Oh yeah – little man, you fuck my cunt now. And big boy, you keep fuckin’ my mouth, go on, ram that fuckin’ cock deep in– mmmfff…” Her tirade of filth was suddenly cut off, presumably by “big boy’s” cock being brutally rammed into her face. Georgina heard a loud gagging noise, followed by the girl screaming, “Oh yeah, you dirty motherfucker, make me fuckin’ choke on that big co–aargh!”

Now Georgina knew she was free, the pain in her heart washed away by the symphony of pure depravity which echoed towards her through the dark – and with it all her inhibitions and pretensions. She rubbed her clit with her palm, whilst ramming three fingers deep into her cunt. She was panting now, in the throes of her approaching orgasm, as she whispered under her breath, “Yeah, this is what I was meant for, Ronnie. ‘Cause I’m a slut – a worthless filthy whore who likes fucking anyone and everyone I want. I was never going to be your faithful docile wife, Ron – ‘cause I’m a fucking whore! A dirty, degenerate, motherfucking trash whore! If you can’t deal with that, then fuck you!”

And so Georgina came, a wave of mindfucking ecstasy washing over her as she revelled in the sheer liberating debauchery of her situation. She tried hard to stay silent, but to no avail. A muffled groan escaped from her lips – which the unseen threesome must have heard, because the next thing she noticed was a bright light from a torch shining straight into her face from between the trees. She was caught – and blinded.

~

Reg wasn’t listening very carefully to Pat anymore. His penis was fully erect now, and he could feel Pat’s sex moistening and beginning to yield. And – at last – she stopped talking about other things and said, “Oh, luv, that feels nice. Come on, love away all me worries, won’t you?”

Soon Reg was on top, gently nudging his penis against Pat’s moistening love-lips, feeling them gradually open and flower, welcoming him in. “Oh, you’re in good form tonight, aren’t you, luv?” smiled Pat.

“So are you!” grinned Reg, as he felt his penis slide slowly into her warm slippery depths. “Nowt dry ‘bout thi tonight!”

“That’s ‘cause you wined me and dined me, and let me talk all me worries away!” said Pat, before letting a gentle moan escape her lips, as she felt Reg hit bottom, filling her completely, his glans firm against her cervix. “Oh, go on, luv, in and out like you like it!”

Soon Reg was making love to his wife as only he knew how – sometimes letting her drop her legs inwards so he could grind the base of his penis against her clitoris; sometimes moving downwards so he could kiss her soft breasts and his shaft could glide against the sensitive spot on the front wall of her vagina; and sometimes letting her open her legs wide and upwards so his penis could slide unimpeded in and out. The covers slipped off, as he pulled all the way out, teasing her soft lips with his glans and then plunging back in – again and again, Pat’s pleasure gradually building until she was gently squealing and moaning at his every touch.

“Oh, that’s good, luv – I forget, you know, I keep forgettin’ ‘ow nice this is!” said Pat.

“I don’t!” pouted Reg.

“Oh, ‘ow can you be so patient with me?”

“I must love you, mustn’t I?” he laughed, as he plunged in deep again, eliciting another happy squeal from his wife.

“Can I come on top?” asked Pat, with a glint in her eye.

“Thought tha’d never ask!” said Reg, grabbing her by her ample hips and rolling over so her body was on top, her happy eyes gleaming down at him, her luscious breasts dangling in his face.

Pat began a slow clitoris grind against the base of Reg’s penis, gradually ramping up toward her orgasm. Reg cupped her large breasts in his hands and tipped his neck forwards to suck her wide pink areolas deep into his mouth, tonguing and slobbering until the saliva dribbled off and her breasts slithered happily back and forth across his lips. Soon Pat was in a world of her own, eyes shut as pleasure overtook her, a series of happy groans escaping her lips as her honeyed walls pulsated, her cervix spasmed, and Reg felt his member being squeezed again and again by her internal contractions.

“Oh, luv, that’s wonderful!” said Reg, squeezing his wife’s buttocks lovingly. “I like it when you come all around me. ‘Ow d’ you do that?”

~

From the direction of the light, Georgina heard laughter – first from the men, and then from the girl: “Look guys, someone likes friggin’ ‘erself off while watchin’! Look at that cunt!”

Georgina too looked down at her cunt. It was beautiful: wet, hot, juicy, pink and wide open, shamelessly displaying itself to the roving eye of the torch. “D’ya like watchin’ us fuck, bitch?” called the girl. Georgina nodded, open-mouthed, staring brazenly into the light, opening her legs wider, and using both hands to hold her cunt wide open.

“Where are you from?” called the girl.

“Emma,” said Georgina quietly.

“I said, ‘Where are you from?’ not ‘What’s your name?’!” she tittered crassly.

“No, Emma. Emmanuel College.”

The girl laughed raucously. “Ha ha! A student! A fuckin’ student whore out on the prowl! You like fuckin’, ‘Emmanuelle’? Wanna get fucked?”

Georgina nodded. Her lip trembled, but her cunt throbbed. “Come on in, then, girl,” called the other girl. “These guys can give you a good fucking, if that’s what you’re after – can’t you, boys?”

Georgina kicked her shoes off and removed her skirt and blouse, leaving them draped over the tree stump, then walked slowly into the copse, feeling the warm dewy earth squelch slightly under her feet. This was what she wanted. She smiled. The faintest glimmer of light was beginning to warm the sky in the east, making the distant town silhouette stand out against the sky. Georgina stood, trembling in ecstatic anticipation. Her adventure was beginning.

“Fuck me, please,” she whispered.

~

Pat’s orgasmic ecstasy subsided enough for her to notice Reg again and say, “Ooh, I need t’ do summat for you now, don’t I?”

“You can do whatever you want, luv: I’m always ‘appy like this.”

“D’you want be on top?”

“No, stay there, mek me come like that,” said Reg.

And so Pat did. Reg marvelled at how she seemed to know just how to do it, calibrating the pace of her up-and-down perfectly to pleasure Reg’s erection and keep him just on the edge until he was in perfect ecstasy. Every now and again she paused, the lips of her vulva gently kissing his glans, teasing him to the edge before plunging downward again to engulf him whole and entire. “Oh, my luv, you are sooo sexy, you know that?” chuckled Reg.

Pat giggled in mock embarrassment, before building the pace up again. Soon she felt Reg grow stiffer and larger, saw the ecstasy on his face, heard it in his breath, in his incoherent adorable little groans. And as he began to spurt, she plunged down for the last time, so that his penis could felt her soft warm walls caressing him, holding him, squeezing him, welcoming his seed, loving him like no one else on earth ever had and ever could.

Pat giggled, and Reg laughed tears of joy. “Oh, I miss this so much, you know!” he said.

“We must do it more often, then, mustn’t we?” said Pat, before suddenly breaking off again – “oh, oh, oh,” she panted. Reg knew what this meant, and he let it happen, softly running his fingers up and down her back and buttocks and gently kissing the slopes of her breasts. This time he was inevitably going soft, which meant that he felt his wife’s spasms even more acutely than before, felt his semen swashing around inside her as her cervix squeezed and blended their shared juices – squidgy, luscious, lovely.

~

Georgina was running – naked, barefoot, and caterwauling incoherently in agony and humiliation. A rosy gleam was beginning to break across the eastern horizon. Her breasts scratched and bleeding, her feet and knees soiled with mud, her hair bedraggled and laced with earth and grass, her anus leaking blood and semen – she ran.

Caustic jeering and whistling echoed in her ears, as in terror she reached the tree stump at the edge of the wood. “Where’s my phone? Where’s my fucking phone?” she whimpered. She scrabbled in the dirt, filthy fingers clawing through cowpat and worms till she found it. And then she ran again, desperately pressing numbers on her keypad. “Oh God, Ronnie, I’m sorry. What have I done…?”

No signal.

Terror and humiliation overtook her, and she screamed again at the dawn sky.

~

Pat and Reg lay in each other’s arms, her large soft curvaceous body limp and damp on top of his trim figure, gently kissing and stroking each other and revelling in each other’s loveliness and familiarity.

Weeping incoherently, Georgina kept running, still naked, till the first rays of direct sunlight pierced the sky, blinding her watery eyes. She tripped and fell, sprawling on the ground on her face, bruising her arms and breasts, scraping the skin off one elbow, and sending her phone flying. Crawling through mud, she grabbed it, and dialled again.

It rang.

“Bloody ‘ell,” laughed Pat, as she lifted herself off Reg’s body, extricating his soft penis and hastily wrapping a towel around her crotch. “‘Oo could that be at this time?” she wondered aloud as she hobbled over to the phone and picked it up.

“‘Ello…?”

“Mummy?” came an anguished cry.

“Nah then, Porge? Y’ a’ reyt, luv?”

“Mummy. Please help me, Mummy. It’s all gone wrong. I’ve gone all wrong. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

She collapsed onto the dirt trembling. “Mummy, help me…” she wept, as she folded up double and screamed silently again into her heart, where her shame dug, scraped and burnt deeper than ever.

The sun rose higher, and in the distance the ancient town spires gleamed in heartless mockery.

(c) GrushaVashnadze 2021. All rights reserved.