Alan Hardy's Blog - Posts Tagged "raw"
SEXY, STEAMY EXCERPT FROM GOOD QUEEN BETH
If, after reading this excerpt from GOOD QUEEN BETH, you want to read more, here's the link:
http://www.amazon.com/GOOD-QUEEN-BETH...
http://www.amazon.co.uk/GOOD-QUEEN-BE...
"Jason, come on in!" Beth called out. "We're feeling lonely."
Jason ambled into Beth's large bedroom, seeing himself reflected in the maze of mirrors there, shuffling along with two left feet, his face red as a beetroot, his gaze cast down. Sandra was laid out on the bed, on her back, her tiny mini-dress pulled up and revealing a skimpy beige-laced G-string. Beth, still in her spaghetti-top and jeans, was standing by the bed, waiting for Jason. Sandra seemed barely conscious.
"What's the matter with her?" asked Jason.
"Nothing. Just can't take her alcohol," answered Beth with a slight grin.
"Have you spiked her drink?"
"Course I haven't."
Jason looked down at Sandra. Sleeping Beauty. Her eyes were half-open, gazing blankly at both of them. Her body stirred gently, and her lips made vibrating movements, her tongue coming out and licking over them.
"There you are, Jason. The bitch who messed you up. The slut who threw your love back in your face, and tore up your poncy poem. You can get your own back. Go on." Beth looked at him. Her eyes were wide-open and nastily bright. She had a big smile on her face. "Give her a good seeing-to."
She moved away to a wardrobe, and came back with pieces of string. She went up to Sandra's prone figure, placed a hand under her bum and roughly raised her up, pulling off her knickers with her other hand. Jason heard a slight tearing of lace. Beth seemed driven, focused on what she was doing, and angry. She pushed Sandra's inert body this way and that, even pummelling it at times, getting it into position, and began tying one arm to the bed-railings.
"What are you up to, Beth?"
"Help me. You tie that arm." She gave him a piece of string. "Tie it really tight."
Sandra started moaning, and Beth put her hand on Sandra's fanny, pushing her fingers inside and rubbing. Sandra's lips curled with excitement, and her eyes shone appreciatively. Beth withdrew her hand, fixing Sandra with a smile, and moved down to the bottom of the bed. She took Sandra's right leg and began to tie it to the railings. Sandra let her do what she wanted, wriggling about with her midriff, haunches, groin, her left leg, everything that was not tied down, but still caught up in her body's constriction. Beth pulled the knot tight, and a cry escaped from Sandra's lips. Beth tied down her other leg, and came to inspect Jason's fumbling efforts, all fingers and thumbs.
"That's fine," she said.
They looked at Sandra, imprisoned, twisting, turning, making writhing movements with her torso, getting hot and bothered, moaning and moaning, her eyes still dull and, Jason would have said, dissolute. Beth moved up to her, half-turning her body over, as much as the strings would allow, and hitched up her dress even more. She laid her back in her former position, and pushed her dress up to match its position under her body. She grabbed Sandra's shoulder-straps and yanked them, ripping them, and pulled the top of her dress down a little, revealing more of her heaving breasts. Beth worked her hand in amidst her bosom and dress and squeezed and pressed hard, causing Sandra to fling her head about and push her body up and, coming up against the limit of the play she had for free movement, it fell back. Again and again she would push her torso up, and fall back, churning up the duvet, dampening it with her hot sweat. There was a panic about her eyes; Jason couldn't be sure if it was fear or maddened desire, maybe both. He felt himself getting aroused. His bollocks got that ache, that independent life of their own where he thought he was losing control, and the images in his mind wouldn't be able to hold him back.
Beth was pawing at him, helping him take his clothes off, discarding them on the carpet, and rubbing her hands expertly over his body, harsh yet lovingly. She took hold of his bollocks, breathing over him, and gave them a good squeeze.
"Go on, Jason! Get in there! Give her a good shagging! She can't wait! She wants you! Murder her!"
She practically man-handled him on to Sandra, breathing harshly, and giggling all the time. Jason also felt excited, infected by her laughter, and made ridiculous-sounding gasps or even sobs of desire. He plopped his penis somewhere around her fanny, prodding about, and awkwardly entered Sandra, with the help of a rough, swift hand around his dick pushing him into place. He got really excited riding the rocking bronco horse that was Sandra, as she pulled and twisted against the knots holding her down, and writhed and wriggled her middle bits for all she was worth, up, down and sideways. Her shuddering, heaving body he was held within, squeezing and clamping hard on his dick, thrilled him, and he felt this time...As he thought that, the excitement which was running through his body lessened, became localised in his bollocks, and, quickly, he found himself rubbing and thrusting against a growing numbness and limpness, that post-coital flaccidity he always got even before he had come. He was slipping down the hill. Rough hands gripped his bum and pushed him into Sandra, back and forth, to the rhythm of Sandra's gasps and half-yells; he tried hard to make the thrill return, but it was useless. He slipped out, and climbed wearily and sweatily off the bed, jarring against Sandra's limbs, and found himself standing at the bottom of the hill again, next to Beth.
She took his hand and placed it on Sandra's fanny, moving it about. He let her do it, limp and lifeless. He kept his gaze fixed on the floor. Beth was caressing Sandra's breasts, pulling her dress down even further, and then suddenly took her hand away from Jason's, which was still up Sandra's throbbing, soaked sponge of a vagina, and smacked her savagely across the face. She smacked her again and again, and Jason felt Sandra's yearning straining body explode and her frantic gasps mingle with her screams, at one and the same time unable to bear it any longer, and unable to resist.
"What are you going to do, Beth?" he croaked, giggling, red-faced, excited.
Beth ran her finger-nails down Sandra's pulsing body, and then dug them deep into the flesh of her hips. She took Jason's free hand, and dug one of his long finger-nails into Sandra's inner thigh below her groin. Sandra's body became like a snake in torment, wriggling, writhing, coiling. Her screams were terrifying. Jason had withdrawn his hand from Sandra's fanny, intimidated, scared, still giggling like a titillated schoolboy. Beth, her face enraged and savage, pressed hard on Sandra's groin and delivered slap after slap to her face, breasts, midriff, and thighs. She even seemed to punch her. Sandra's skin became blood-red, and trails of blood like veins trickled down her hot, wet flesh and intermingled, tributaries running into each other over the hills and dales of her body. Sandra's passionate writhing never ceased, nor did her screaming and paroxysmal shuddering of body, as she, crazed, wrenched hard against the strings that kept her pinioned to the bed, a prisoner within her body's endless explosion of pain. Beth grew tired of Sandra's insatiable appetite, and moved away, dribbling saliva, giggling, a wicked gleam in her eyes. She looked at Jason, and he, naked and shaking, giggled back.
Beth moved to the bedside-table, took out a fag and lit it, inhaling deeply. She moved back to the delirious slab of flesh that was Sandra, who was mouthing without sound, drifting in and out of her sexual high, one moment trying to wriggle away her body's itch, the next moment flat out in a zombie-like stupor. Beth held the cigarette, and its curling halo of smoke, high above Sandra and, with a slow descent, brought it, to an accompanying gasp from both entranced members of her audience, down on to her right breast. As Sandra winced and yelled out, Beth snatched the cigarette away, and flicked a route with its lighted end along Sandra's midriff. Sandra was in agony, her body shuddering madly; she made whining noises. Beth held the fag over her, and Sandra tensed up, watching the fag, waiting.
"Shall we kill her, Jason?" Beth asked.
"What?"
"Shall I get a long sharp knife? We can cut her nipples off, stab her in the shoulders, the belly, anywhere...You can stick it up her fanny! Up her arse! Why don't we kill her? She deserves it. For what she did to you. She made you what you are." Jason stared at her, unable to breathe. "Frank will know where to dump the body somewhere where it will never be found. Anyway, there are always bodies lying around every morning, and the police never bother about them any more..."
She was excited, rabbiting on, her deep blue eyes glimmering intensely, scarily.
"You're not being serious, are you, Beth?"
"Course I am. Kill her! Knife her up her fucking arse!"
"You're having me on, aren't you?"
"Won't it be fun to see what noises the slag makes when we slice her up? Go on, do it. I'll fetch the knife, will I?" She was vicious. Possessed. Crazed.
"Beth, Sandra didn't make me the way I am. I would probably have always been a bit of a weirdo."
Jason moved towards her. She stared at him, and seemed to relax, to relent. She went over to the bedside-table, and stubbed out the fag. She went to the wardrobe, hurriedly took off all her clothes, and took out the tiny white tennis-skirt Jason liked her in so much. She slipped it on, came back and led Jason to the far wall. She leant back on it, and toyed with his dick as he stood obediently in front of her. She guided him into her, and he, excited once more near the top of his hill, pushed and thrust, demented again, feeling her flesh and the material of her skirt upon him, and, just before the excitement was about to shrink back into his bollocks, she pushed him out and turned him round against the wall, jamming herself up against his back and bum, enveloping him with her body. He wanked himself against the wall, and saw himself reflected in a tall mirror to his right, naked against the wall, and Beth behind him, naked but for the white mini, within him it seemed, pushing him, hugging him, controlling him, her arms around him. He couldn't stop, banging and banging himself against the wall, until he came. He waited a while, pulled himself away from Beth's hold and moved off to the bathroom, exhausted.
She came in to join him. They had a shower together, side by side, letting the suds and warm water cascade over their bodies. They didn't touch each other, just gave each other two or three kisses on the lips. When they came out, Beth went over to the inert figure of Sandra on the bed, and undid the knots tying her to the bed-railings. Sandra, in some dream-world of her own, turned over on her side, hunching up her body. Beth pulled the duvet around her. Sandra needed to sleep.
Jason was already making himself a drink in the next room.
"Make me one too," she said, standing naked in the bedroom's door-way. "What do you want me to put on? It's all right," she said with a laugh as she noticed Jason's expression, "you don't have to perform any more. But you like looking at me, don't you? What do you fancy?"
"It doesn't matter. Put your tennis-skirt back on." She turned round. He called her back. "Beth! You weren't serious about that, were you? You know, slicing her up?"
"Of course not. I was just playing you up." She stared at him. "Anyway, she's only a dirty old slag. She loved every minute of it. She's a perv. Did you notice all those marks on her body?"
"No."
"She loves it. Pain and that. And I bet she doesn't mind dishing it out either. Well, you know all about that already. She's a little shit."
She put on a green spaghetti-top. When she came back, Jason looked at her. In her green top and white skirt, with her damp hair, she was stunning. But then Jason always found her stunning. He looked at himself in one of the free-standing, tall mirrors dotted about the room. Smart black shirt and grey trousers over his slender frame. Drawn face. And that thin moustache. He watched her again, in the flesh, and also reflected in another mirror behind her. The stillness of the reflected figures, his and hers, on opposite sides of the room, were like stained-glass images of themselves, frozen apart from their real bodies. He felt he wanted to move those mirrors side by side, even face to face, and unite them forever, but, if he did move the mirrors, the images they held would disappear. They would slip off the glass, the magic would be gone and all that would be left would be their bodies. Again.
"Come and sit down on the sofa, Jason. We'll talk."
Already her grey-blonde hair was drying and fluffing out. The nasty glimmer in her eyes had gone. Her face looked serene, chirpy as ever, but tired.
"You have a face hewn out of rock," he said.
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"A face that will live through the ages, Beth. It's an image of eternity. It represents your class, all its anguish, all its beauty, all its durability, even all its nastiness."
"You do speak shit, Jason."
"But, Beth," said Jason as they snuggled down side by side on the sofa, "we are the good guys, aren't we? We're on the side of the angels, aren't we?"
"Aren't you so sure about me now, Jason?" Beth asked, laughing at him.
http://www.amazon.com/GOOD-QUEEN-BETH...
http://www.amazon.co.uk/GOOD-QUEEN-BE...
http://www.amazon.com/GOOD-QUEEN-BETH...
http://www.amazon.co.uk/GOOD-QUEEN-BE...
"Jason, come on in!" Beth called out. "We're feeling lonely."
Jason ambled into Beth's large bedroom, seeing himself reflected in the maze of mirrors there, shuffling along with two left feet, his face red as a beetroot, his gaze cast down. Sandra was laid out on the bed, on her back, her tiny mini-dress pulled up and revealing a skimpy beige-laced G-string. Beth, still in her spaghetti-top and jeans, was standing by the bed, waiting for Jason. Sandra seemed barely conscious.
"What's the matter with her?" asked Jason.
"Nothing. Just can't take her alcohol," answered Beth with a slight grin.
"Have you spiked her drink?"
"Course I haven't."
Jason looked down at Sandra. Sleeping Beauty. Her eyes were half-open, gazing blankly at both of them. Her body stirred gently, and her lips made vibrating movements, her tongue coming out and licking over them.
"There you are, Jason. The bitch who messed you up. The slut who threw your love back in your face, and tore up your poncy poem. You can get your own back. Go on." Beth looked at him. Her eyes were wide-open and nastily bright. She had a big smile on her face. "Give her a good seeing-to."
She moved away to a wardrobe, and came back with pieces of string. She went up to Sandra's prone figure, placed a hand under her bum and roughly raised her up, pulling off her knickers with her other hand. Jason heard a slight tearing of lace. Beth seemed driven, focused on what she was doing, and angry. She pushed Sandra's inert body this way and that, even pummelling it at times, getting it into position, and began tying one arm to the bed-railings.
"What are you up to, Beth?"
"Help me. You tie that arm." She gave him a piece of string. "Tie it really tight."
Sandra started moaning, and Beth put her hand on Sandra's fanny, pushing her fingers inside and rubbing. Sandra's lips curled with excitement, and her eyes shone appreciatively. Beth withdrew her hand, fixing Sandra with a smile, and moved down to the bottom of the bed. She took Sandra's right leg and began to tie it to the railings. Sandra let her do what she wanted, wriggling about with her midriff, haunches, groin, her left leg, everything that was not tied down, but still caught up in her body's constriction. Beth pulled the knot tight, and a cry escaped from Sandra's lips. Beth tied down her other leg, and came to inspect Jason's fumbling efforts, all fingers and thumbs.
"That's fine," she said.
They looked at Sandra, imprisoned, twisting, turning, making writhing movements with her torso, getting hot and bothered, moaning and moaning, her eyes still dull and, Jason would have said, dissolute. Beth moved up to her, half-turning her body over, as much as the strings would allow, and hitched up her dress even more. She laid her back in her former position, and pushed her dress up to match its position under her body. She grabbed Sandra's shoulder-straps and yanked them, ripping them, and pulled the top of her dress down a little, revealing more of her heaving breasts. Beth worked her hand in amidst her bosom and dress and squeezed and pressed hard, causing Sandra to fling her head about and push her body up and, coming up against the limit of the play she had for free movement, it fell back. Again and again she would push her torso up, and fall back, churning up the duvet, dampening it with her hot sweat. There was a panic about her eyes; Jason couldn't be sure if it was fear or maddened desire, maybe both. He felt himself getting aroused. His bollocks got that ache, that independent life of their own where he thought he was losing control, and the images in his mind wouldn't be able to hold him back.
Beth was pawing at him, helping him take his clothes off, discarding them on the carpet, and rubbing her hands expertly over his body, harsh yet lovingly. She took hold of his bollocks, breathing over him, and gave them a good squeeze.
"Go on, Jason! Get in there! Give her a good shagging! She can't wait! She wants you! Murder her!"
She practically man-handled him on to Sandra, breathing harshly, and giggling all the time. Jason also felt excited, infected by her laughter, and made ridiculous-sounding gasps or even sobs of desire. He plopped his penis somewhere around her fanny, prodding about, and awkwardly entered Sandra, with the help of a rough, swift hand around his dick pushing him into place. He got really excited riding the rocking bronco horse that was Sandra, as she pulled and twisted against the knots holding her down, and writhed and wriggled her middle bits for all she was worth, up, down and sideways. Her shuddering, heaving body he was held within, squeezing and clamping hard on his dick, thrilled him, and he felt this time...As he thought that, the excitement which was running through his body lessened, became localised in his bollocks, and, quickly, he found himself rubbing and thrusting against a growing numbness and limpness, that post-coital flaccidity he always got even before he had come. He was slipping down the hill. Rough hands gripped his bum and pushed him into Sandra, back and forth, to the rhythm of Sandra's gasps and half-yells; he tried hard to make the thrill return, but it was useless. He slipped out, and climbed wearily and sweatily off the bed, jarring against Sandra's limbs, and found himself standing at the bottom of the hill again, next to Beth.
She took his hand and placed it on Sandra's fanny, moving it about. He let her do it, limp and lifeless. He kept his gaze fixed on the floor. Beth was caressing Sandra's breasts, pulling her dress down even further, and then suddenly took her hand away from Jason's, which was still up Sandra's throbbing, soaked sponge of a vagina, and smacked her savagely across the face. She smacked her again and again, and Jason felt Sandra's yearning straining body explode and her frantic gasps mingle with her screams, at one and the same time unable to bear it any longer, and unable to resist.
"What are you going to do, Beth?" he croaked, giggling, red-faced, excited.
Beth ran her finger-nails down Sandra's pulsing body, and then dug them deep into the flesh of her hips. She took Jason's free hand, and dug one of his long finger-nails into Sandra's inner thigh below her groin. Sandra's body became like a snake in torment, wriggling, writhing, coiling. Her screams were terrifying. Jason had withdrawn his hand from Sandra's fanny, intimidated, scared, still giggling like a titillated schoolboy. Beth, her face enraged and savage, pressed hard on Sandra's groin and delivered slap after slap to her face, breasts, midriff, and thighs. She even seemed to punch her. Sandra's skin became blood-red, and trails of blood like veins trickled down her hot, wet flesh and intermingled, tributaries running into each other over the hills and dales of her body. Sandra's passionate writhing never ceased, nor did her screaming and paroxysmal shuddering of body, as she, crazed, wrenched hard against the strings that kept her pinioned to the bed, a prisoner within her body's endless explosion of pain. Beth grew tired of Sandra's insatiable appetite, and moved away, dribbling saliva, giggling, a wicked gleam in her eyes. She looked at Jason, and he, naked and shaking, giggled back.
Beth moved to the bedside-table, took out a fag and lit it, inhaling deeply. She moved back to the delirious slab of flesh that was Sandra, who was mouthing without sound, drifting in and out of her sexual high, one moment trying to wriggle away her body's itch, the next moment flat out in a zombie-like stupor. Beth held the cigarette, and its curling halo of smoke, high above Sandra and, with a slow descent, brought it, to an accompanying gasp from both entranced members of her audience, down on to her right breast. As Sandra winced and yelled out, Beth snatched the cigarette away, and flicked a route with its lighted end along Sandra's midriff. Sandra was in agony, her body shuddering madly; she made whining noises. Beth held the fag over her, and Sandra tensed up, watching the fag, waiting.
"Shall we kill her, Jason?" Beth asked.
"What?"
"Shall I get a long sharp knife? We can cut her nipples off, stab her in the shoulders, the belly, anywhere...You can stick it up her fanny! Up her arse! Why don't we kill her? She deserves it. For what she did to you. She made you what you are." Jason stared at her, unable to breathe. "Frank will know where to dump the body somewhere where it will never be found. Anyway, there are always bodies lying around every morning, and the police never bother about them any more..."
She was excited, rabbiting on, her deep blue eyes glimmering intensely, scarily.
"You're not being serious, are you, Beth?"
"Course I am. Kill her! Knife her up her fucking arse!"
"You're having me on, aren't you?"
"Won't it be fun to see what noises the slag makes when we slice her up? Go on, do it. I'll fetch the knife, will I?" She was vicious. Possessed. Crazed.
"Beth, Sandra didn't make me the way I am. I would probably have always been a bit of a weirdo."
Jason moved towards her. She stared at him, and seemed to relax, to relent. She went over to the bedside-table, and stubbed out the fag. She went to the wardrobe, hurriedly took off all her clothes, and took out the tiny white tennis-skirt Jason liked her in so much. She slipped it on, came back and led Jason to the far wall. She leant back on it, and toyed with his dick as he stood obediently in front of her. She guided him into her, and he, excited once more near the top of his hill, pushed and thrust, demented again, feeling her flesh and the material of her skirt upon him, and, just before the excitement was about to shrink back into his bollocks, she pushed him out and turned him round against the wall, jamming herself up against his back and bum, enveloping him with her body. He wanked himself against the wall, and saw himself reflected in a tall mirror to his right, naked against the wall, and Beth behind him, naked but for the white mini, within him it seemed, pushing him, hugging him, controlling him, her arms around him. He couldn't stop, banging and banging himself against the wall, until he came. He waited a while, pulled himself away from Beth's hold and moved off to the bathroom, exhausted.
She came in to join him. They had a shower together, side by side, letting the suds and warm water cascade over their bodies. They didn't touch each other, just gave each other two or three kisses on the lips. When they came out, Beth went over to the inert figure of Sandra on the bed, and undid the knots tying her to the bed-railings. Sandra, in some dream-world of her own, turned over on her side, hunching up her body. Beth pulled the duvet around her. Sandra needed to sleep.
Jason was already making himself a drink in the next room.
"Make me one too," she said, standing naked in the bedroom's door-way. "What do you want me to put on? It's all right," she said with a laugh as she noticed Jason's expression, "you don't have to perform any more. But you like looking at me, don't you? What do you fancy?"
"It doesn't matter. Put your tennis-skirt back on." She turned round. He called her back. "Beth! You weren't serious about that, were you? You know, slicing her up?"
"Of course not. I was just playing you up." She stared at him. "Anyway, she's only a dirty old slag. She loved every minute of it. She's a perv. Did you notice all those marks on her body?"
"No."
"She loves it. Pain and that. And I bet she doesn't mind dishing it out either. Well, you know all about that already. She's a little shit."
She put on a green spaghetti-top. When she came back, Jason looked at her. In her green top and white skirt, with her damp hair, she was stunning. But then Jason always found her stunning. He looked at himself in one of the free-standing, tall mirrors dotted about the room. Smart black shirt and grey trousers over his slender frame. Drawn face. And that thin moustache. He watched her again, in the flesh, and also reflected in another mirror behind her. The stillness of the reflected figures, his and hers, on opposite sides of the room, were like stained-glass images of themselves, frozen apart from their real bodies. He felt he wanted to move those mirrors side by side, even face to face, and unite them forever, but, if he did move the mirrors, the images they held would disappear. They would slip off the glass, the magic would be gone and all that would be left would be their bodies. Again.
"Come and sit down on the sofa, Jason. We'll talk."
Already her grey-blonde hair was drying and fluffing out. The nasty glimmer in her eyes had gone. Her face looked serene, chirpy as ever, but tired.
"You have a face hewn out of rock," he said.
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"A face that will live through the ages, Beth. It's an image of eternity. It represents your class, all its anguish, all its beauty, all its durability, even all its nastiness."
"You do speak shit, Jason."
"But, Beth," said Jason as they snuggled down side by side on the sofa, "we are the good guys, aren't we? We're on the side of the angels, aren't we?"
"Aren't you so sure about me now, Jason?" Beth asked, laughing at him.
http://www.amazon.com/GOOD-QUEEN-BETH...
http://www.amazon.co.uk/GOOD-QUEEN-BE...
