Bedtime Stories

By Kate Allcock

A trilogy dealing with the lives of ordinary people, people who might live next door to you. People you might know. We are all driven by the same forces but how those forces play out depends on the individual. Not everyone is a winner.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Gardner
• Release date: Aug 13, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463087978

Kate Allcock

Erotic Author

Book preview

Bedtime Stories

An erotic trilogy

by

Kate Allcock

It has given me a lot of pleasure, writing these stories. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them.

Kate x

Copyright Kate Allcock 2019

Published by John Gardner at Smashwords 2019

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. I wouldn’t steal your work, please don’t steal mine. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Kate Allcock reserves the moral right to be identified as the author of this Work.

Acknowledgements

No book is just the product of the writer’s imagination. There are editors, proof-readers and artists involved, all of whom help to make every writer’s work better and all of whom have my thanks. And, a big thank you to FreeDigitalPhotos.net for the images used in this book.

Front cover image courtesy of Vlado at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

First story image courtesy of radnatt at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Second story image courtesy of Vlado at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Third story image courtesy of Vlado at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

To my friends who called in with bottles of wine and takeaway Thai food to help me stay on track when I was tired - thank you!

MISS BLOW JANGLES Angie is young art teacher, a woman with a secret profession, living in an unhappy marriage to the fabulously wealthy Piers. Their strange sex life is no longer enough for her. She needs romance and true love, which she finally finds in a surprising and highly erotic way.

BIRTHDAY GIRL Sally is happy in her marriage until one day Richard appears. She finds herself swept up in the sexual power of this young man and abandons herself to highly erotic, newfound pleasures. But will it destroy her marriage?

HEAD SCREAMS Lew’s flu fever gives him images and erotic thoughts that leave him wondering about his wife’s past. Did she really tell him about her affair or was it a dream? Will their marriage survive the truth and will Jane give Lew his dream?

Miss Blow Jangles

She felt the warm spurt of his salty cum as she sucked his small, soft piece of flesh in her mouth.

He moaned, groaned and panted like a man who had just run up a long flight of stairs as he collapsed back on the bed gasping like a heart attack victim. She looked at his rapidly shrinking member lying on the left leg of his pants, glistening with the film of his cum. He hadn’t been able to wait.

As soon as they had entered his hotel room he made his intentions plain. The subtle lighting and the easy listening music coming from the in-built stereo system created an immediate atmosphere of intimacy.

He ordered her to drop to her knees, undo his flies and pull his tiny, thirty-seven year old cock out of his immaculately tailored pants and put it in her mouth. His big hands roughly fondled her breasts and to stop him from tearing her designer silk clothes she undid her blouse and let him pull and squeeze her tits through her wine coloured bra.

Within a couple of minutes he was thrusting hard against her face and grunting. The fact he had managed to come at all was a miracle, given the considerable amount of alcohol he had consumed earlier.

‘Swallow,’ she heard him grunt.

He was almost unconscious with drink so she surreptitiously spat his cum onto the inside face of a corner of the bed cover.

She charged extra for swallowing and he had paid it. Most men wanted to know that the woman sucking their dick would swallow. It was a macho thing so she made them pay extra. They almost always did. City boys, bankers, lawyers, the professional assholes were always the ones who wanted it so she made them pay. If the trick was alert she made a big show of swallowing with a lot of phony lip licking as if she savoured every sticky, yicky drop.

A novice client was an easy target for a tip and they paid it not knowing the proper protocol with a whore. If the trick was out of his tree she spat his mess out.

‘I did already,’ she replied with that naughty little girl look men seemed to like so much. This guy was a cynic, a drunken cynic, but not so easily fooled.

‘I didn’t see you do it. Suck me again so I can see you swallow.’

She toyed with his tiny shrivelled member. ‘I don’t think so sweetie. I swallowed or where is it? Mmm? Where has your cum miraculously gone?’

‘Open your mouth.’ Still on her knees she leaned over him putting her right hand over his glistening member so as not to get any cum on her blouse, and opened her mouth. He inspected her as best a man with several glasses of champagne and the better part of half a bottle of expensive malt whisky inside him could manage.

He stank of booze, cigars and expensive cologne through which the B.O. still permeated.

She had long ago learned to accept the stink. All she wanted was the money and she never fucked. It was strictly a BJ contract and she had a reputation as the best in the business, which meant she could charge top dollar.

Her business card read, Miss Blow Jangles.

‘Okay, you swallowed only I didn’t see it.’

‘Next time keep watching sweetie,’ she said as she got up and buttoned her blouse. He struggled to sit up.

‘Hey, where’s the smile?’

‘I smiled as I sucked.’

‘Don’t get fucking lippy bitch. You could at least smile.’

What was it with these assholes? They never got it. It was called a blowjob and that’s exactly what it was - a job. This was not a blow experience, a sucky-sucky fun time, a yicky-sticky mouthful of joy. It was not something she did to relieve boredom, or to give herself a social life. It was a fucking blow-job! Work! Market forces and all that. The simple economics of supply and demand. Assholes!

She picked up her vintage Dooney & Bourke bag to leave.

‘Hey, come on stay a while. I paid didn’t I?’

‘You paid for a blow job, the best fucking blowjob of your life, which you have just had. Chat costs extra.’

‘Fucking bitch! Fucking sit down and fucking talk to me!’

It never failed to amaze her how men changed during and after sex. That nice, polite, smiley guy could suddenly turn into a physically abusive grade ‘A’ asshole. But she knew it and was always prepared for it. The foreigners were the best and the worst. They could tip lavishly or turn into animals. She never knew what she was getting until the deed was done.

‘Sweetie, a deal is a deal. We had a deal. I blow you, you pay me and I leave. That’s it. I have other people to see, so it’s goodnight, big boy. Catch me another time when you’re back in town.’

‘Hey ya fuckin’ whore! I’m the fuckin’ man! The man! Do you know who the fuck you’re dealing with here?’ He did not wait for an answer. ‘When I say ‘jump’ everybody say, ‘How high?’ So you do what you’re fuckin’ tol’, capice?’

Earlier that evening he had told her he was a Turkish Cypriot and now here he was speaking Italian with what sounded like a really bad Mexican accent. Worse, he looked and sounded as if he was on the edge of launching into violence, that most predictable of macho reactions.

‘Oh we speak Italian do we? Tell you what lover you lie back, close your eyes and I will give you something really special. Okay?’

‘That’s more like it and don’t fuck with me again bitch!’

‘Oh sweetie I promise I will never fuck with you again. Now lie back.’

He lay back and closed his eyes but the room started to spin so he opened them again – too late. She had already reached into her handbag and pulled out a miniature sling with a very strong elastic band. It was cocked and ready to be released by a small trigger. In one fluid move she lifted his flaccid member with her left hand and in her right was the sling, which neatly formed a half circle round his dick. She squeezed the trigger and the sting of the elastic band when it hit was like an electric shock. He screamed and curled up on the bed clutching his now very red little piece of manhood, unable to stand.

He opened his mouth to speak but only a series of grunts and moans came out.

‘Don’t ever talk to me like that again. Capice?’

She retrieved her card from his pocket, took his mobile phone and left. She had removed everything that could have linked her, a respectable art teacher in another town, to the agonised prick lying on the bed. As she went down in the lift she searched for her number in the phone and deleted it then handed the phone in at the desk claiming she had found it in the lift.

Upstairs the shock of the powerful elastic band applied to his cock made the man vomit and he nearly choked to death. He was now and forever a man who would be suspicious of all women who offered him a blowjob. Handbags would be searched!

Miss Blow Jangles went home casual and easy. It was all in a day’s work.

Over the years she had dispatched a few pricks to emergency rooms, but it never bothered her. There were rules, her rules and rule number one was, she would suffer no man’s abuse. Rule number two was she never did women or couples but she had done male groups. Her biggest had been a coach load of dart players and supporters heading to the south coast for a tournament. Twenty-seven cocks to suck on the bus. Even the driver was treated. All the others chipped in to pay for him. She had worked out a special rate for them and made a game of it. She made it fun and walked away with over three thousand pounds in cash. Bon voyage!

She had hired a limo to get home but didn’t have to pay for it, as the owner preferred the blowjobs to the money. All in a day’s survival. She gave excellent service at a fair price all she required was that she was respected.

When she got home to the luxurious penthouse apartment she shared with Piers, her husband of three years, he was already stretched out on one of the enormous cream leather sofas, feet up, tapping away on his iPad. The Rolling Stones were playing in the background and Piers had a large gin and tonic on the coffee table. The last rays of the day’s sun were filtering through the large terrace windows to create deep shadows in the corners. The lights came on automatically, a soft pink glow that filled the room.

‘Hi honeybunch,’ he shouted to her without taking his eyes of the iPad screen.

She gave him a cheery greeting from the hall and walked in to peck him on the cheek.

He regaled her with some totally boring anecdote about his day at the bank. She oohed, ahhed and ummed at the right places as she went to the bedroom to undress and step into the large shower. He was still talking but she had never been listening.

This was generally the best part of her day. Alone with the hot water, the steam and the expensive lemon body wash. Alone to feel and caress herself. She loved the feeling of her body, her remarkably firm, upturned 34C breasts with their big, lightly tanned nipples and her tight bum. She never had to pluck hairs from her nipples, they were unusually smooth and soft and she enjoyed playing with them, flicking them with her thumbnail and tracing circles round them with her index finger. She loved having them sucked, it gave her a warm sensual feeling in the pit of her stomach. At thirty-two her skin was as soft and smooth as a baby’s and she felt wonderful.

She had always had a firm body, not muscular and ugly like some female pop stars and she had never felt the need to join the ranks