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Her husband had said nothing since they had left home. Not a word. She in turn, had remained silent, watching the miles of suburbia as they headed out of North London in the light traffic of a Saturday evening. Looked at the mock Tudor in Woodford, the Mercedes in the driveways and the neat hedges. Inside those houses were women like herself; respectable and respected, putting their children to bed, their stockbroker spouses drinking after dinner whiskies. These women were different from her now though, and always would be from this night on. They hadn’t forced their husbands to drive out to a remote part of Epping Forest so that they could be fucked by men they had never met and would never meet again. Twice or maybe three times she nearly changed her mind. Nearly gave in to the impulse to keep things as they were. But the decision, the instinct that had been with her all week was, she found to her surprise, unshakeable. She wanted to destroy something. Someone she didn’t want to be anymore.

As the expensive houses receded and the forest took over she retreated a little more into the mink coat she was wearing. She didn’t feel sexual or anticipatory; just very tense. Maybe it was because her imagination hadn’t really caught up with her decision making. The idea alone had propelled her, the likely reality was so far out of her experience that she couldn’t think it through, couldn’t see it in her head. Not surprising, she thought, it had only been on the Monday that a chance remark from a woman who couldn’t resist gossip, had turned her life upside down.

She had been having coffee with Jackie Martin after the Monday morning gym session. She always had coffee with Jack after gym. She didn’t really like her but it was a routine now. This time, she could tell that Jackie really wanted to tell her something exceptional. On the exercise bikes and in the weights section she was building up the story, using phrases like “Sam, you’ll never believe it” and “Kate Mellors, of all people”. Eventually, after looking carefully around the empty coffee bar for possible eavesdroppers, she had leant forward and whispered “She went dogging with her boyfriend and got shagged by three men over the boot of her car”.

Samantha had no idea what ‘dogging’ was but the three men part of the story was clear enough. She didn’t know Kate Mellors beyond a casual acquaintanceship but well enough to picture an attractive woman in her early forties, newly divorced and with two sons at Harrow. Her ex husband, Sam remembered, was a senior partner at a big firm of accountants – just as Paul, her own husband was. ‘What’s dogging?’ Sam asked.

Jackie had looked at her in obvious amazement at such naivety. ‘You know, going to car parks to have sex with other people. Like that footballer, whatisname did. You can either watch or join in.’

Sam suddenly had many questions but could only say ‘where?’

‘In a car park near Blackheath apparently. Quite a well known spot if you know about these things it would seem. But I mean, what a slut. I was told that she went there naked under her coat…and the men were all black.’ Jackie shook her head in a clear display of disapproval. ‘She’ll get what she deserves.’

Afterwards, Sam was to identify those few unexpected sentences as the catalyst that changed her life. At the time, no such coherent understanding existed. She just knew that she had been told about someone who had done something extraordinary in a way she had never done. She, who had been married to Paul at twenty one. No university, no living to speak of. Only three boyfriends before she married and now two children at private school and sixteen years of sex so boring that it barely existed. An appearance in Vogue many years ago, to both prove her beauty and to mock her now for taking it nowhere.

The shift in her thinking was so fast and so total that it could not find expression. Sam even found herself incapable of giving Jackie the usual glib agreement that she might have once offered about Kate Mellors. She said only: ‘It sounds rather fun’ and standing up, left, never to return to the gym again.

When she had got home. Sam took all her clothes off in the kitchen and having found the biggest carrot in her vegetable rack had bent over her kitchen table and, reaching behind, fucked herself thinking of black men and black cocks and cars and car parks. Afterwards, still naked, she had searched the internet for everything she could find on dogging. She had read the messages, looked at photos, printed off locations and masturbated for a second time. A picnic site in Epping Forest was where she had decided to go.

She was holding the directions now and they were close to their destination. But a different sort of journey during that week had seen them to their current hostile silence. For two days she had said nothing, not believing what she herself was thinking. Obsessing with the idea. Awake at night with thoughts she had never had. Then on the Wednesday after she had virtually forced Paul to have sex with her she told him what she wanted. Three nights of argument and abuse followed. He had called her a whore and a bitch and a slut. He had even hit her. The intensity of his reaction surprised her. Her determination made him angry and as far as Sam could remember, he had never been angry before, never showed that passion. She knew from what he was saying that it was actually some idea of himself that he couldn’t stand losing and not that he cared about the thing itself. She had given him an ultimatum to agree or to lose her. He hadn’t believed her but that morning he had agreed to take her (but on the condition they did nothing) as one might humour a difficult child. She knew he thought she was having a brainstorm which would pass. She knew, and he didn’t, that the marriage was over.

Paul made a noise, a sort of clearing of his throat, then: ‘It must be off this road. This is the sign for the picnic area. What do those directions say again?’

The sound of his voice was so unexpected that Sam returned to reality with a sudden jolt and a lurch of her stomach. ‘Oh’ she said, reading them again, although she knew it by heart. ‘Go down the track for 400m and turn left into the car park – that’s all’.

The car bumped its way down the forest track. Leaving the main road added a new dimension of nearness to an unknown meeting. She felt the urge to turn back rising again, an urge heightened as they entered the car park. Several cars were there, their sidelights on, she could see people moving between them in the faint light. The headlights of Paul’s car picking out a couple of old Fords and a VW with a wild paint scheme. The fact that they were in a brand new and very expensive BMW with all that implied, gave her a shaft of real fear. A recognition that she might have willfully and stupidly bought them somewhere seriously dangerous.

Her husband parked the car well away from the others, maybe fifty yards or more and switched off the engine and lights. She just glimpsed a wooden picnic table, a sign of the place’s more normal use. He said nothing but as the sound of the BMW’s systems shutting down died away she heard his tense breathing, sensed the anger and then the explosive ‘you stupid bitch’ and more silence. She sat for a while thinking only blank thoughts before a decision unsought and unconscious made her press the button to lower her window.

The warm late August night, heavy with dew and forest scents drifted softly into the car. As always, on such nights, sound carried with great clarity and she could hear voices, both men and women, interspersed with laughter and the clink of bottles. She could even see cigarette smoke dispersing in the faint light. She wondered if it was their arrival that was being laughed at – the shy and retiring rich bastards. The amateurs. She listened for a while and realized that she was just that, an amateur, a middle class failure who knew nothing of the more visceral (or so it seemed to her) culture over by the old cars. Her fantasies had been about anonymous fucking, they hadn’t involved real people. Real people it seemed, who were going to laugh amongst themselves and take not the slightest interest in her or her life changing mission. The mink and the ruinously expensive black lingerie served only to mock her now.

She listened for a while and then turned to Paul to tell him to drive away. To go. But the remote control that seemed to have affected her subliminal self all week manifested itself again. Even as she formed the words her hand switched on the interior light. Some sense that she did not want to fail completely, that a statement was needed, that she had been to this place and done something. Her hands went down to her husband’s crotch and she unzipped his jeans. ‘Oh, for fucks sake’, he said but made no attempt to stop her, said nothing more as she pulled his cock out. Sam looked at the flaccid member in her hands with something close to fear. If she failed now, her sexual ignominy was complete. Not even looked at by a stranger and a husband not aroused by her touch. She had never given Paul a blow job, hadn’t done one since she was seventeen, wasn’t good at it then and likely, she thought, to be no better now. Panic forced her head down and put her mouth to work.

Perhaps it was the intensity of her trying, the urgency of her lips and the near frantic movement of her hand. Whatever it was, his cock became hard in her mouth, a slight moan telling her that he was involved. The moan gave her a new confidence and she slowed down a little, letting him slide out of her mouth and circling the tip with her tongue. She let saliva run down him and then softly enveloped his cock sucking and twisting her head. Sam didn’t really know what to do but the upthrust of his groin and the shift of his body down the seat told her what she needed to know. Just as she thought he was starting to come, he suddenly pushed her head away. She looked up in puzzlement to see why and saw as he was seeing, a face at the car window. The reflections made it hard to see, but it was a girl – a girl with a wide smile and she was making lowering motions with her hand. It was not Sam but her husband who lowered the window. ‘Thank fuck for that’ said the face. The face, Sam could now see of someone rather beautiful, twenty maybe, long dark hair and Sam thought, from the slight accent, Polish or Czech.

‘Open the door then’, this was said with a grin. ‘He’s going to lose that if we’re not careful’. The girl’s smile was infectious and a tension broke in Sam. The alien culture had come to them after all. At first she couldn’t remember where the central locking button was but in relief found it and released the door. ‘It’s quite a big one isn’t’? This was said with an undertone of mock admiration. ‘Shall we do it together? Do you mind?’

She felt utterly stupid answering. It seemed bizarre to assent to another girl asking if she could suck her husbands cock. She said ‘lets’ but the girl, who was wearing only jeans, naked above those, had already taken Paul in her hand and was kissing him hard at the same time. Sam knew that this was someone far more skilled than her, someone whose confidence was obvious. On an impulse, she bent her head and licked not her husband’s cock but the girl’s fingers. Immediately, dark hair cascaded over her and she found herself looking closely at some hazel eyes, a slight scent of Chanel and beer together. Unexpectedly, the girl kissed her, not softly but hard, biting her bottom lip. Sam tasted blood but also felt herself go wet, really wet and she kissed back, forcing her tongue against the other woman’s. The girl felt for Sam’s hand and pulled it across to her naked breast and as if by mutual consent their mouths moved to the hard penis beneath them. They licked the shaft together and then the hazel eyes flashed up at her, ‘I’ll do him and then you finish it. OK?’

The dark head bobbed up and down quickly, the mouth moving fast. A low sound came from the man ‘Oh fuck, fuck, fuck…..’

Sam’s hair was grasped by the girl and her face pushed down on to the ejaculating cock. Semen flooded her mouth and she gagged as her head was forced up and down. The hand kept her there as she semi choked on the come in her mouth. Seconds passed and with the release of the girls hand she sat upright and closed her eyes, holding the salty liquid behind her teeth. With her eyes still shut she leant out of the window, with the onset, tiny but persistent, of triumph in her mind. She let her mouth fall open, spitting slowly, car door metal cool against her cheek.

It was the slight shifting of feet on grass that opener her eyes. Right in front of her….people. People who had been looking in. Men, maybe five of them and a blonde girl. She could see all this because one of the men was holding a lantern of some description. The men had erect cocks in their hands. She saw tattoos, tee shirts, some without tops on. Muscular bodies, builders arms. Fear froze her and not moving her eyes from what she had seen, she let the remaining come dribble slowly down the car door.

‘Eva. Come here and do some of your best coaxing. I think we’ve put the fucking shits right up her.’ The biggest of the men stood back after saying this and the others did the same, melting some way back into the darkness. ‘Reassure her a bit.’

The dark haired girl quickly appeared by window. ‘Hello’ she said brightly. ‘Don’t worry they won’t hurt you….and anyway, I want to kiss you again.’ She opened the door and reached her hand in. Sam hesitated, the need to kiss was taking her but she first glanced round at her husband. She wanted a sign from him, support maybe. For him to get out too, but instead she saw him switch off the interior light and turn his face away. Her resolve, far from weakening, drew strength from this hypocrisy and she stepped out onto the forest floor, the damp grass under her feet, her mink slipping off behind her. She had never shown her cunt to a stranger before, now she wanted then all to see it. She fixed her eyes on the leader of the men and took her knickers off, slowly, deliberately.

The forest seemed suddenly silent to Sam. A motionless tableau, harsh breathing in the night air, her cunt wet. The accented voice giving its approval. ‘You are fucking stunning darling.’ This time the kiss was softer, longer, hands inside her bra, urgent. Sam’s own hands went to Eva’s breasts, instinctively squeezing the nipples between finger and thumb as she liked done to herself. She tightened her grip as Eva undid her own jeans and pulled them down. Her hand gently dragged down to the now naked pussy. Sam had never felt another girl before, hadn’t expected it to be so wet, for her fingers to go in so easily. Soft hair against Sam’s ear and naked thighs pushed hard against hers. A whisper, ‘Lick me please. On that table. I need to come now.’

It was only a few yards to the picnic table that Sam had seen earlier. Only a few yards but she felt part of a strange procession. Eva pulling her by the hand, the lantern swaying, faces, then feet illuminated, sweat on chests and arms. Eyes on her. Anticipating.

Sam, empowered as never before in her life, a star of the show but with no control of events. Needing to be fucked. To lose control, to have no control. Eva, pulling herself up onto the damp wood of the table and opening her legs. Sam looked at the shaven pussy and leant forward her on elbows, touching the wetness and opening with her fingers. The girl’s head sank back on the table but turned on one side to take an erect cock into her mouth. The man was holding the lantern and put it down on the table, his face lit and looking down at Sam and what she was doing. She put her tongue on Eva’s cunt, knowing where but not how. Dragging unevenly and slowly up the slick flesh, the clitoris harder than she expected, Eva’s legs pulled further apart by unseen hands on her knees.

Behind her, a cock was against her thighs, entering her. She had no idea which man but the first thrust caused her to slump her forehead down on Eva’s cunt. The girl moaned ‘Don’t stop, don’t stop….use your fingers in me.’ Sam licked hard, sensing the girl coming, she had three fingers in her now, her arm awkward against the wood of the table, the thrusting from behind jarring her. The man came, hotness inside her. Eva’s fingers were on herself now, greedy for her orgasm, sucking hard on the man in her mouth. Sam’s head was pulled back by the hair, another man in her, bigger, harder. The noise made her come, the wet slapping of one man’s semen penetrated by another, it was fast upon her, almost as if she was ambushed by it. Her face collapsed on Eva’s slowing fingers, her orgasm taking her somewhere she had never been. Never been near. So many years of touching, just touching the outside of something.

The shattering disturbance of her coming ebbed away and the forest smells and sounds returned. The night air and where she was in full realization. Beneath her, Eva’s pussy gave off its smell of sex and behind her another man came, thrusting hard and then replaced, another cock and this time she gripped the girls’ hips and kissed and bit her belly as unexpectedly another orgasm flooded over her.

They were all gone when Sam raised herself up. Low voices disappearing into the dark. No laughter, just a murmuring as if they too were satiated. Sam stood, leaning back on the table, unfocussed but feeling the come running down her thighs. Her own come and the semen strangely cool between her legs as the breeze touched it. Quite how many men had been in her she didn’t know. More than she had had in her life before, she thought. She looked across at the darkened BMW, knowing what he had seen. Knowing he hated her now. The girl, back again, holding Sam’s arm, writing on it. ‘My mobile….tomorrow…please’ and kissing her, long again, hard, her fingers in the wetness, looking down at her hand, leaving.

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