Sensual Contact

by Emma Allan

Genres: Erotic & Steamy Romance

Synopsis

Amanda's existence lacks lustre. Her sex life with her husband, Greg, has become a chore. Amanda secretly craves the kind of erotic excitement her friend Maggie is always telling her about. And Maggie has the answer - a little magazine called Contacts.

Soon it turns out that Amanda's troubles are just a phone call away from a very welcome solution. But making that call is a bold step. The first on the road to sexual enlightenment and the experience of a new dawn of sensual fulfilment . . .


Discover Piatkus Entice: temptation at your fingertips - www.piatkusentice.co.uk

Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group

Print pages: 256

Sample

‘So, what did you do then?’

‘I was very bold. I told him I thought he was gorgeous and asked him to take me to bed.’

‘Just like that?’

‘Of course. There’s no point beating about the bush is there?’

‘And?’

‘I told you, I’d got all dressed up like a dog’s dinner. I mean, I had this slinky black dress with a skirt split up to the
thigh and one of those bras that make your cleavage look like the Panama Canal. So, as I got into the car the skirt fell open
and he got a good look at my thighs. And my black stockings, the shiny ones with the lacy tops. His eyes nearly popped out
of his head.’


‘I bet.’

‘Naturally, I didn’t bother to fold the skirt back. Actually I managed to work it up a bit so he could just see my panties.’

‘I’m surprised you were wearing any,’ Amanda Landseer said, laughing. Maggie O’Keefe never failed to amaze her.

‘I’d thought about it, but I decided on a more subtle approach.’

Maggie was a tall, statuesque woman with a figure most women would die for, and a strong, slightly masculine face with a straight
nose and high cheekbones. Her large sparkling brown eyes reflected her no-nonsense attitude to life. At the moment the ample
curves of her body and her long legs were encased in bright yellow Lycra that clung to every contour, emphasising in particular her big breasts. Her thick, jet-black
hair was cut to an equal length just above her shoulders, its healthy sheen catching the light.


‘And?’ Amanda asked impatiently.

‘Naturally, he had a great deal of trouble keeping his eyes on the road. He asked me if I always wore stockings. I asked him
if he liked them and he sort of moaned. So I put my hand down between his legs.’


‘Christ, Maggie, you’d only known him an hour.’

‘So? I was very attracted to him.’ Maggie was a public-relations consultant for an advertising agency and had met the man
at a party for one of their client companies who made swimwear. He was a designer.


‘What did he do?’

‘There wasn’t much he could do. He was driving. He had a hard-on, I’m delighted to say. So I asked him if he was uncomfortable
then unzipped his fly and got it out.’


‘You didn’t?’

‘Well, I was creaming too. It was a nice one. Big and very thick. I asked him if he’d mind if I sucked it. He nearly crashed
the car.’


‘I bet.’

‘So he pulled over. Fortunately it was a dark street. The controls for the electric seats were in between the armrests so
I pressed the button and his seat started to recline. Perfect. There he was in all his glory. I slipped it into my mouth and
gave him a really good suck. He was squirming and groaning like he was in pain. But he was hard. Like steel. Lovely. Unfortunately
there were too many people about. I mean, we’d left the party early and there were a lot of people walking about and peering
into the car.’


‘I didn’t think that would have stopped you.’

‘You’re right, I found it quite exciting. I’ve always liked being watched. If only I’d known.’

‘Known what?’

‘I’ll get to that later. Anyway it wasn’t very comfortable. So I let him up and promised I’d behave until he got me home.’

With anyone else, Amanda might have suspected that Maggie was spicing the story up but they’d been friends since she moved
in next door two years ago and she knew the woman was not one for exaggeration.


‘So he drove home, like a bat out of hell,’ Maggie continued. ‘with his cock hanging out of his trousers.’

‘And your legs still on display?’

‘Naturally. Do you want another glass of wine?’ They were curled up in big comfortable armchairs in the front room of Maggie’s
large Victorian terraced house, a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon opened on the coffee table in front of them. It was a warm
spring evening and the French windows were open on to the garden, a pleasant scent of flowers drifting in on a light breeze.


‘Thanks.’

Maggie lent forward and refreshed their glasses.

‘Anyway, he’s got this beautiful penthouse apartment in Highgate. Fantastic views. Luckily there’s a garage in the basement
and we went up in the lift.’


‘What, with his thingy still …?’

‘Sticking out of his trousers, yes. I don’t know why but that really turned me on. The moment we got inside his flat I just
couldn’t contain myself. I practically threw him to the floor. Didn’t even bother to take my knickers off. Just hopped on
top of him and pulled them aside. I was slicker than a jar of cold cream and I bounced up and down on him, like I was demented.
He was so big. Filled me right up. Right here.’ She dug her fingers into her belly. ‘And you know me. Come at the drop of
a sailor’s trousers. I think I came three times just in the hall.’


‘But he didn’t?’ Amanda asked.

‘No. It’s great. He didn’t. He was still as hard as a rock. When I’d calmed down a bit, he helped me up and lead me into the front room. Asked me if I wanted a drink. Believe me, I needed a brandy.’


‘And?’

‘He started to strip his clothes off. Very unselfconscious. He’s got a great body. Big broad chest covered in a mat of hair.
Thick muscles like cords of rope. Lovely. When he was nude he poured two drinks and brought them over, his cock sticking out
like a poker. Then he sat down and looked up at me, like it was my turn to strip. So I did. I had a big gulp of brandy, and
it was really good stuff, then put the glass down and started unzipping my dress. I put one foot up on the coffee table right
in front of him so my skirt fell open and he could see my stockings again, then I peeled my dress away. I saw his eyes moving
from my thighs to my bra, like he couldn’t decide where to look next. When I slipped out of my bra – and you know I’m very
well endowed in that department – I just stood there in my little black suspender belt and these thong cut panties and let
him get a real eyeful.’


‘I don’t think I could ever do anything like that.’

‘Of course you could. It’s a turn-on.’

‘And he just sat there?’

‘Yes. He sipped his brandy and just looked at me. Funnily enough, I found that very sexy.’

‘You find everything sexy.’

‘True. Anyway, I slipped my panties off and knelt on the sofa, right on top of him. By that time I was really in the mood
again. And he obviously was. I held his cheeks in my hands and kissed him on the mouth while I pressed myself down on that
lovely big erection. God, it felt good. But that’s when it happened.’


‘What?’

‘I was, like, gone – I mean coming again. His tongue was in my mouth and his cock in my pussy. Wonderful. I had my eyes closed
and I was quivering. I must have heard a noise. I opened my eyes and there was another guy standing in the doorway behind
the sofa. He’d got this expression on his face that’s like mild interest, as if we were some diverting exhibit in a museum. I don’t know why but if he’d been drooling at
the mouth it would have been a turn-off, but the way he was so cool about it just put me into orbit. My whole body seemed
to clench and I had this incredible orgasm.’


‘Who was he?’

‘A friend staying for the weekend. An old schoolfriend.’

‘Did he apologise?’

‘No. When I came round, Robert, that’s the guy I’m sitting on, calmly introduced us, like it was perfectly normal for us to
be copulating while I said hello to his friend. We actually shook hands! And then he sat down in a chair opposite, obviously
not intending to leave.’


‘So, what then – you stormed out?’

‘I suppose I should have done. But to tell you the truth the thought of walking out never crossed my mind. I had Robert’s
cock buried inside me and the fact that this guy was watching was an extra thrill. It was for Robert too. I swear he’d got
harder and bigger. So I start riding him again. I thought I was turned on before but this was completely different. I was
coming continuously. And I could feel Robert’s cock beginning to spasm. That and those cool eyes boring into me … well, I
don’t think it’s ever been better.’


‘You always say that.’

‘It’s always true. Sex gets better and better as far as I’m concerned.’

‘I wish I could say the same. So did this other guy join in?’

‘What a suggestion!’ Maggie mimed shock.

‘Come on let’s have the whole sordid story.’

‘I felt as if I couldn’t take anymore. I sort of collapsed on the sofa, curled up into a ball of pleasure. I don’t know how
long it was before I could be bothered to do anything but wallow in the aftermath of what he’d done to me. Eventually I rolled
over and this guy, Tom he was called, was standing looking down at me. He was naked and he’d got his cock in his hand, wanking it up and down with his eyes a glued to my thighs. He was young, I mean only about twenty, and perhaps he’d never
seen black stockings before. So I turned around and lay on my back and slowly opened my legs, you know, like an invitation.
I could see his cock pulsing.’


‘And what was happening to Robert?’

‘He was still sitting at the end of the sofa, with his brandy glass in his hand. Tom looked a bit scared, like he was afraid
to do anything. So I told Tom that it was perfectly all right. That I’d like it if he put his lovely big cock right up me.
And he did. Naturally I was wetter than I’ve ever been but it didn’t put him off. He started hammering into me. Over his shoulder
I could see Robert watching us. I wrapped my legs around Tom’s back. One of my suspenders popped. I knew it wasn’t going to
take him long. But it wasn’t going to take me long either. The feeling of him against all that sticky wetness was incredible.
But it was the thought of it that was the biggest turn-on. The idea of having these two men one after the other, and them
both spunking me. Christ, just talking about it is making me wet again.’


‘Maggie!’

‘Well, it’s true. I’m going to have to go and change.’

‘And is that it?’

‘Not really. But let’s skip over the rest.’

‘Let’s not. I want to hear it all.’

‘Put it this way. The recovery rate of the young is remarkable. By the time Tom’s finished with me, or I’ve finished with
him, Robert’s was hard as he was in the first place. So I suggested that maybe they’d like to take me somewhere more comfortable.
We ended up on this king-sized bed with me in the middle. After Robert had another go, Tom got it up again. Wonderful. What
more could any woman want?’


‘You’re incorrigible.’

‘Life’s not a rehearsal. And they took me to breakfast at the Savoy next morning.’

‘When was this?’

‘Last Saturday. I could hardly walk all weekend.’

‘I vaguely remember that feeling.’

‘Only vaguely?’

‘Greg’s not very enthusiastic anymore. Five years of marriage seems to have dulled his appetites. He used to be really good
at it. But now he just doesn’t seem to find me attractive anymore. Sounds like a letter to an agony aunt doesn’t it?’


‘Have you tried to spice things up?’

‘God, yes. I spent a fortune on lingerie. Dressed up like a first-class whore. I even met him at the front door in a pair
of red high heels and hold-ups and nothing else. Oh, he took me to bed, but it didn’t last long. Ten minutes and he’s downstairs
watching his favourite soap. The trouble is, I really like sex. I always have. I used to be quite good at it too. Now I can’t
remember the last time I had a really good orgasm, you know, the sort when the earth moves.’


‘Pity. Greg’s an attractive man.’

‘That only makes it worse.’

Maggie leant forward and poured the remains of the wine into their glasses. She got up and went through into the kitchen to
get another bottle.


‘Well there’re these counsellors now, for married couples.’

She put the bottle back into the room and opened it, then topped up the glasses.

‘He’d never agree to that.’

‘In that case you’ve got two choices.’

‘Which are?’ Amanda picked up her glass and drank the wine. It had begun to taste a little sour.

‘Divorce or a fling.’

‘Basically, I like Greg. He’s a nice man.’

‘Then have a fling.’

‘What if he found out?’

‘Be careful.’

‘I’m not very good at lying.’

‘Get good at it. You can do anything if you try. It doesn’t have to be a serious affair, just sex.’ Maggie got up again and
went to a small bookcase that was crammed with books. She extracted a small, thin magazine from between the tomes. ‘Here,
look at this.’


She handed it to Amanda. The cover was nondescript, plastered with cut-outs of small ads, its title, in large white lettering
printed diagonally across the page: CONTACTS. Amanda flicked it open. Inside, the small ads were set in columns, each accompanied
by a black-and-white photograph. She stared at them in amazement. They were pictures of singles and couples. Some were scantily
clad in underwear, the men in posing pouches, the women in everything from basques with stockings and suspenders, to G-strings
and lacy bodies and bras. Others were completely nude. More than that, most of the women were lying or bending over with their
legs wide open so their vaginas were completely exposed. Some even held their labia open for the camera so the mouth of their
sex was visible. Some had their breasts in their hands, squeezing them together or pushing them up towards their mouth intent
on showing they were big enough for them to be able to suck their own nipples. The men were less obvious. Most were not erect
and stood looking uncomfortable. One or two had large hard-ons and stood side on to the camera presumably in an effort to
emphasise the length of their phalluses.


‘What’s this?’ Amanda asked, flicking through the pages.

‘What it says. It’s a way of contacting like-minded people. Ones who are interested in sex.’

‘Have you used this?’

‘That would be telling.’

‘Don’t be coy.’

‘Of course I’ve used it. Why do you think I’ve got it in the house?’

‘I didn’t think you had any trouble finding men.’

‘I don’t. But sometimes … well, sometimes this is easier. And more exciting. I see a man I fancy and that’s it. No emotional
claptrap. No wondering what’s going to happen at the end of the evening. He knows all I want is sex. I know that’s all he wants too.’


‘Just like that.’

‘Just like that. It’s ideal for you, Mandy. You can get laid with no complications. You don’t even have to use your own name.
And you can use my telephone number if you want. He doesn’t even have to know where you live, so there’s no risk.’


‘It’s still cheating. I’ve never cheated on Greg. And I’m pretty sure he’s never cheated on me.’

‘Come on, Mandy. Sex isn’t something you can just forget about. If you’re not getting it at home sooner or later you start
looking around for it elsewhere. And if you want my advice it’s better to do it this way, with no involvement, than get so
desperate that in a couple of years’ time you confuse lust with love. You could find yourself in bed with someone you start
imagining you’re in love with just because he’s given you a good time.’


Amanda thought about that. It made sense. She flicked through the pages of the booklet again. This time she noticed how many
of the photographs were couples, though they were not often photographed together, two different pictures cropped to fit side
by side, each, presumably, taken by the other partner.


‘I can’t,’ she said decisively, closing the booklet and putting it down on the coffee table.

‘Fine. But do me a favour would you?’

‘What?’

‘Just take it with you. Think about it. Read some of the ads. If you still don’t want to do anything about it there’s no problem.
But at least think about it. I tell you, Mandy, if you feel sexually frustrated now, it’s only going to get worse. And the
more desperate you get the more likely it is you’ll do something silly.’


‘Like what?’

‘Like getting involved with someone totally wrong for you just because he’s got a big dick.’

Amanda laughed. ‘Sounds good to me.’

‘If all you want is sex then that’s the answer.’ Maggie picked up Contacts and handed it back to her friend.


‘So, what you’re saying, basically, is this little book can save my marriage.’

‘Exactly. If you’re frustrated. And you know you are or you wouldn’t have brought the matter up.’

Amanda looked at her watch. ‘I’d better be going. I’ve got to think about dinner.’ She got to her feet, feeling the effect
of the wine they had drunk. ‘I think I’ve had too much to drink.’


‘It helped loosen your tongue.’

‘Just between you and me, right?’

‘Of course.’ Maggie got to her feet, unfurling her long legs. The Lycra body was so tight it had folded itself into the lips
of her sex.


‘When do you want this back?’ Amanda held up Contacts.


‘Keep it. There’s a new edition every month. I subscribe.’ Her face broke into a mischievous grin. ‘But don’t let Greg find
it.’


‘I won’t.’

They kissed at the front door and Amanda walked down the front path, out of the little wicket gate and up her own path to
her front door.


‘Bye,’ she called as she opened the door.

The phone rang five minutes later. Amanda answered it in the kitchen.

‘Sweetheart, I’m going to be late.’ It was her husband.

‘How late?’ Amanda was not annoyed. In fact she was delighted. It gave her a chance to sober up.

‘Couple of hours. I should be home by ten.’

‘Fine.’

‘We could go to the Italian, if you like.’

‘Let’s just have a salad and some cheese.’

‘Perfect. See you later. You are all right? You sound a bit odd.’

‘I’m fine. Just been in to see Maggie.’

‘That explains it.’

‘Does it?’

‘—Vino veritas. How many bottles this time?’


‘One,’ she lied.

‘I bet. See you later.’

They exchanged goodbyes and Amanda put the phone down. She sat at the kitchen table, glad of the excuse not to have to do
any cooking. She’d left Contacts on the table and the cover stared up at her. She picked it up and opened it at random.


Young male, 23, good physique, well-endowed, seeks fulfilling sexual partnerships with women of any age and type. Loves lingerie,
and high heels. Good at oral. 45 67 66.


The photograph above the ad was of a slim, naked male with his hands held behind his back. His flaccid penis was not circumcised
and his foreskin covered his glans. He had a thick thatch of curly black, pubic hair. Like most of the photographs in the
magazine though by no means all, the picture was cropped at the neck so the head was not visible.


As Amanda looked at the naked man she felt her clitoris flex. Maggie’s graphic description of her Saturday night encounter
had given Amanda a sort of sickly feeling in the pit of her stomach that she was sure had translated itself into a wetness
in her sex.


She turned the page.

Attractive couple, early thirties, seek friendly couple for swapping and mutual activities. Cleanliness and discretion assured.
Can accommodate. Home counties area. 33 21 45.


The picture above this ad was of a woman in a dark basque, i. . .