21 September 1987

Petra met William at the door to her flat dressed in a black see-through negligee, red satin suspender belt and matching panty and bra set, fully-fashioned black stockings and red high heels. Her makeup was heavy but perfect and she had accessorised with silver costume jewellery and she reeked of Poison, their favourite perfume.

She hadn’t gaffed and was already semi-tumescent, this was to be a short but sweet interlude.

“So you’ve come around for your farewell fuck,” Petra invited him inside and closed the door.

“If you keep being cheeky you might just go to bed frustrated,” William jested.

Petra and William had been lovers for two years, even though after their first night together they had vowed to keep what they did a secret and never speak of it again.

But David found himself addicted to his alter ego Petra. He put together a wardrobe, at first from Op shops but once he was comfortable with what size women’s clothing and shoes fitted him he began to purchase clothing and shoes from high street stores. At first it was daunting, being a man shopping for women’s clothing, makeup and accessories but he soon overcame his nervousness. David worked hard at developing Petra’s persona and after about a year he was confident enough to go out dressed as Petra; although that is not quite the right expression because he actually became Petra when he was transformed.

William found that he couldn’t get Petra out of his mind either; he thought about her constantly.

David and William met at the campus coffee shop not long after their tryst at the Head Office and David confessed that he was obsessed with crossdressing and was spending almost all of his spare time dressed as Petra, perfecting her female persona. William confessed that he was preoccupied with thoughts of the night he had spent with Petra.

They made a pact then and there. William and Petra would become lovers; Petra would contact William and advise him when she was available. David and William would never speak of Petra’s existence, they would remain friends while Petra and William were lovers and of course Petra and William would never speak of David. Eventually Petra and William settled into a routine, they met for dates four nights every week and when Petra had perfected her ability to pass as a woman they even started going out together, but never anywhere where they might run into the other Gamers. They even went away for weekends together now and then.

So when Petra met William at the door to her flat they bantered with each other almost like a married couple.

“I’m sorry I have to go away darling but I’ll think of you every day,” William pulled Petra into his arms and gazed into her pretty eyes.

“Bollocks; you’ll be chasing pretty Maltese girls around the island,” Petra pouted.

“There won’t be any girls there near as pretty as you,” William kissed her nose sweetly.

“Do you have to go?” Petra moued.

“I promised my parents I’d spend the long weekend with them at the house; you’ve known about this for ages now. We’ve had most of summer together,” William sounded exasperated.

William’s family had owned a house on the island of Malta since the nineteen fifties and holidayed there twice a year, leasing the house out when they were not in residence.

“We start the autumn term when you come back, it’ll be back to the grind,” Petra sulked.

“Hey mommy and daddy pay my rent and provide me with my allowance which in turn means I get to buy my girlfriend lots of nice lingerie, perfume and jewellery,” William teased.

“Well ok then; maybe you do deserve a farewell shag,” Petra grinned.

Petra poured them both wine, she had been drinking heavily before William arrived because she was angry that he was going away. She had placed the usual sheer red scarf over the lamp so that the little flat was lit by a rosy glow.

She lay back on the bed and watched William undress; he was tumescent in anticipation of their lovemaking. He stared at her long legs clad in the gossamer nylons; he had a real fetish for her stockings and Petra was always willing to oblige him as she too loved wearing the silky sheer garments.

William climbed onto the bed and Petra worked her stocking foot on the underside of his shaft, just below William’s glans and was rewarded with a filament of pre-ejaculate oozing from the tip of his penis. William ran his hands up and down Petra’s stocking-sheathed leg from the tips of her toes to the tops of her hose. He moaned with pleasure as Petra massaged his phallus with her silken foot.

“I’d love to play our usual games Petra but you know I’m in rush to make my flight,” William lamented.

“So you just want to fuck me and leave,” Petra sulked.

“Come on honey I told you when I phoned you that I was in a hurry but you begged me to come around,” William found Petra quite petulant when she didn’t get her way.

“Ok lover; come to me,” she opened her arms and William lay on top of her.

They kissed and Petra opened her legs and lifted her buttocks to allow William access to her behind.

William pulled the gusset of Petra's panties aside and slid his cock into the crease of her soft creamy buttocks and his glans probed her sphincter. Petra wriggled to encourage him; as usual she was pre-lubricated and William’s penis slid inside her anus. His glans had found her prostate and Petra moaned with lust as waves of intense pleasure surged through her body.

When William lowered his mouth to hers she kissed him back, deeply, passionately. She drove her tongue into his mouth and lifted her buttocks up off the bed and pushed herself up against him; she moved her legs so they were around his waist and locked her ankles together and held him against her. She felt totally feminine lying here underneath this man; wantonly giving herself to him.

They fucked quickly and passionately knowing that William was time poor but intent on enjoying this last lovemaking session before he had to leave for overseas. William jackhammered his penis in and out Petra’s anus with long quick thrusts and she raised herself up to meet him. They moaned and grunted into each other’s mouths; the fucking accompanied by one long passionate kiss.

"Fuck me darling!" Petra moaned, writhing under William as he slid his engorged phallus in and out of her tight passage.

Petra's cock was fully erect in her panties and William’s reached down and squeezed her through her panties.

"Oh lovely baby!" Petra moaned.

William fucked Petra and she fucked him back; both of them moaning and groaning with the intensity of their passion. He squeezed and stroked Petra's hard penis and the stimulation she felt from having her cock massaged through her satin panties amplified the rings of pleasure that radiated from her anus. She was going to orgasm quickly.

William ejaculted deep inside her; his cock pulsing and juddering as his scrotum contracted, ejecting steams of hot semen. Petra felt her back passage flood with William’s sperm and this triggered her own orgasm.

Petra felt him orgasm; his cock was fully embedded in her, his scrotum tickling her buttocks when he shuddered and wriggled his member inside her as it pulsed and throbbed. He kissed her passionately, their tongues entwined, lips mashed, their teeth occasionally cracking against each other with the intensity of the kiss.

Petra moaned as her own orgasm shook her body and she felt her penis begin to pulse and expel her issue; William milked her as she ejaculated; hot semen soaked her panties.

Petra slid her stocking-sheathed legs up and down William's torso and pulled him harder against her; her fingernails raked his back as their lips crushed together and their tongues intertwined as she drummed her heels against William's hard buttocks.

William lay on top of her, supporting his weight on his elbows as they both slowly came down from their orgasms. He placed little soft kisses on her lips and kissed her on the eyelids and stroked her hair. Petra felt fully sated and loved. She felt like she knew what it was like to be a woman who had just been made love to by the man who totally loved her.

Neither William nor Petra had ever mentioned the word love in their nearly two years together but both of them felt it for each other.

Petra continued to sulk as she lay on the bed in post-coital bliss smoking a cigarette but William was having nothing of it. He hurriedly dressed and kissed her just once as she tried vainly to get him to linger and then broke out of her embrace.

When William left her apartment neither of them realised it would be the last time they would see each other.

David was awakened that evening by a call from Timothy telling him the tragic news that William’s plane had gone down over the Mediterranean Sea. There were no survivors.

It was actually Petra who took the call and she broke down and was inconsolable. Making matters impossibly worse was the fact that there was no one she could share her grief with. She had no choice but to transform back into David and meet up with the rest of the Gamers to mourn and console each other. William’s body was never found.

David packed up all of Petra’s possessions and accoutrements and locked them away. Petra would not emerge again until the 21st September 2007, exactly twenty years to the date of William’s disappearance.

November 2007

David had finally received some good news. It was a month after he was forced out of his home and made to live alone at 12C. His publisher called him and told him that Warner Brothers had bought the film option to his third novel ‘Lady In The House’.

“Warner will definitely not be offering you a screen writer’s gig but the money is still good. They will need to cut and tame some of the sex scenes too but the cash they are offering will overcome any artistic concerns you may have,” his publisher explained.

Lady In The House was David’s most popular novel so far and was just shy of making the best seller list. It was the story of a transsexual who commits a felony and has to serve her time in a male prison because she isn’t legally recognised as transgender. She is forced into prostitution behind bars by the prison kingpin but eventually overcomes her tormentor and becomes a prison tsarina herself.

David was now living as Petra almost full time; the exception being when he was allowed supervised visits to his daughter Rachael, who was still a baby and did not understand why her father wasn’t living at home. Marie allowed him to visit supervised by the nanny; she still refused to see him or talk to him, except by email or over the phone.

Petra thought of David as a totally separate person to herself; they just happened to share the same body.

Petra was seeing Gary and Mick a couple of times a week so she had a busy sex life; she had not heard from the Quizmaster for over a week. The royalty from Warner Brothers she withheld from Marie and used to update her wardrobe and buy herself some luxuries. She had completed and sold a number of short stories, which she released under the pen name Petra Pantalon-Baissē, which she thought, was hilarious because it was a non-de-plume for Petra Pantsdown. She had also nearly completed her next novel.

It had taken a while but Petra had finally tracked down Timothy who was living in Edinburgh Scotland. She felt confident enough to drive up there and stay the weekend and drive back as Petra. During the drive north she thought she saw the black Mondeo come and go in her rear vision mirror but she couldn’t be certain. It made her nervous but she kept her resolve; she needed to confront Timothy. Besides, if it was Timothy tailing her in Mondeo she would soon find out.

David had contacted Timothy by email and arranged to meet for old time’s sake in a local pub.

“Jesus fucking Christ if it isn’t Petra the whore!” Timothy didn’t recognise his old friend from university at first.

“Take a seat and I’ll get them in; gin and tonic for the lady?” Timothy joked.

“I haven't been Petra the whore for twenty years now Tim but I will take a G and T,” David sat down at the small table that Timothy had managed to snag in the corner of the crowded pub.

Timothy worked his way through the crowd and came back with drinks and they both took out cigarettes, Timothy held out his lighter for David.

David got straight to the point.

“Are you the Quizmaster Timothy,” he asked.

“Are you crazy Petra? We haven’t played The Game for twenty years and I’ve been living up here in Scotland since I left uni,” Timothy continued to look at David with astonishment.

“Don’t call me Petra!” David snapped back.

“Well what name are you using? And how long have you been trans?” Timothy stared across the table.

“Trans?” David was confused.

“Transsexual? Transvestite? I don’t know what the correct term is and I don’t want to offend you,” Timothy said politely.

David looked down and noticed that his fingernails were painted with red fingernail polish. He looked at his reflection in the window and it wasn’t David staring back at him it was Petra.

Petra had come to the meeting not David. For few seconds David was confused but Petra soon took over.

“Sorry Timothy; I’m just not feeling myself this morning, of course you can call me Petra,” she sipped her drink and then smiled.

“And I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have called you a whore but I was so shocked to see that you had transitioned. Nobody told me, and you certainly didn’t tell me when you emailed me. When you signed off the email as Petra Pantalon-Baissē I thought you were taking the piss,” Timothy apologised.

Petra’s memory was cloudy; had she really sent the email to Timothy from her account and not David’s. But more importantly why had she come to the meeting as Petra not David? Was Petra taking over David’s psyche? Was she becoming the dominant personality? This was no time or place for her to be having a psychotic event; she got back to the matter at hand.

“I’m being blackmailed Timothy,” Petra began.

She told Timothy about the Quizmaster and how the Quizmaster was threatening to reveal David’s alter ego to the world and ruin his life unless he completed a series of dares, just like when they played The Game. She did not go into detail about the sex; she left that part out of it, nor did she tell him about the black Mondeo, she wanted to surprise him with that.

“But aren’t you living full-time as a woman now? My god you certainly look and act like one; I certainly wouldn’t think you were a man,” Timothy was confused.

“I’m living part time as a woman and you are the only one who knows my secret,” she replied thinking quickly on her feet.

“But why reveal yourself to me?” Timothy was no wiser.

Petra had to improvise; she had no idea why she had come out today instead of David.

“Because I have deduced that you are the Quizmaster. It isn’t Bethany, Sandra or Rachael so it must be you; only the six of us know about The Game,” she stated her accusation.

“Is that your Mondeo parked across the street?” she pointed to the black Ford that had been parked there when she arrived.

“You are a fucking loony! How the fuck do you think I delivered those lavender envelopes to you down in London while I live up here in Scotland? And Bethany’s pantyhose; how did I plant those?” Timothy was angry.

“And I don’t own a Ford Mondeo you dozy bint!” Timothy banged the table.

The throng of patrons in the pub turned their way and the bartender gave Timothy a menacing look.

“How do I know you aren’t in cahoots with someone? Maybe you have someone down in London working on your behalf,” Petra eyed him suspiciously.

“You are a loony; a paranoid loony. It’s as likely I’m the Quizmaster as it is that William returned from the dead and is the Quizmaster,” Timothy guffawed.

“Don’t speak about William like that!” Petra snapped.

“I always thought there was more to you and William. After that dare where you dressed as a woman you didn’t hang around with us Gamers as much as you used to. You were both very secretive. And look at you now! Were you and he getting it on back then?” Timothy put the question to Petra.

Petra blushed at first with embarrassment and then with guilt.

“I knew it! Look; more power to you both and I respect your right to live your life as a woman but I am not this Quizmaster that you speak of. I’d look closer to home if I were you. I wish you the best Petra, I really do, but I’m not sitting here listening to these accusations any longer. I think you need help,” Timothy stood and dropped some money on the table and got up to leave.

Petra stood.

“One last favour then, please Timothy,” she called after him.

Timothy turned and glared at her.

“What?”

“A few months ago; September 21st to be exact. If Marie calls, can you please just tell her, I’m begging for old time’s sake, tell her that you came to down to London and we spent the night on the piss together,” Petra pleased.

“Too late mate. She called already and I didn’t have a fucking clue what she was going on about; told her I haven’t seen you for twenty years,” Timothy spun on his heels and left.

Petra was seething, she was very angry with Timothy but what he said made sense; he was almost certainly not the Quizmaster so it had to someone closer to where she lived. She was hoping that Timothy would confess to either coming down south himself or engaging a co-conspirator to torment her. She was still stymied about motive; why was the Quizmaster blackmailing and tormenting David?

“May I join you?” Petra looked up to see a big Scottish fellow holding a pint and gin and tonic in his huge fists.

He was handsome in a rugged way with his ruddy complexion and flaming red hair; a real Scot.

“I’m not sure I’m the best company right now,” Petra sighed.

“Then maybe I can cheer you up then; even if you are a wee Sassenach lassie,” the man chuckled and sat down uninvited.

“I’m really not in the mood for company,” Petra said a little more sternly.

“Look. I saw you and your chavie get into a wee rammy but if you were my lassie there is no way I’d be leaving you alone in this pub. Good looking, unaccompanied, mature ladies in this howf are generally limmers or hoors. You appear to be neither so if I sit with you it will keep the ill-willies away,” the man replied.

Petra realised that she had let her prejudices get in the way and although this bloke presented himself as some sort of Scottish Hagrid he was actually quite articulate despite the Gaelic slang.

“Forgive me for being so rude; please sit and yes please join me and if that gin and tonic is for me I’d be very grateful,” Petra smiled at the man.

“I’m Billy Wallace,” the man introduced himself.

He took her hand and kissed the back of it like a true gentleman.

Petra guffawed and nearly choked on her drink.

“You’re William Wallace?” she laughed.

“Not ‘The’ William Wallace of course, nor am I related, but it’s a bonnie name to have for a Scotsman don’t you think,” his eyes twinkled and his smile lit his face.

Petra drank her drink quickly and listened to Billy done on about Edinburgh, he was obviously a fanatic about his home city and the conversation took her mind off her problems. It was quite pleasant being out and about as Petra whilst enjoying the company of a man who simply wanted her company and didn’t appear to be determined to get into her knickers.

Two of Billy’s friends came over and joined them and as the afternoon turned into evening Petra drank a lot as did her new Scottish friends. They talked about the rivalry between England and Scotland of course but in a jovial way, then they asked her about herself and Petra manufactured a story. Being a novelist, story telling came easy to her. She did not tell them that she was a transvestite but she noticed the occasional inquisitive stare at her and the odd knowing look between the three men.

Petra had had her hair professionally cut and styled with subtle highlights since she left home. When she went out as David she pulled it back into a bun or a ponytail so that the tinting was not so obvious. Today her shoulder length hair was brushed and styled and her makeup, heavy around the eyes as usual, was perfect although she had forgone her usual bright red lipstick and settled for a subtler ruby-red. She was wearing one of her new outfits; a navy blue suit with a short skirt and kick pleat that showed a lot of leg. Because of this she had not worn her usual stockings but Pretty Polly fifteen denier, sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose. The gusset helped her keep her gaff in place too.

Firm b-cup-sized breasts in the form of expensive and realistic breastforms held in place by a white satin and lace bra swelled the bosom of her cream silk blouse; she wore matching panties.

She had no recollection of dressing this way or slipping into the black three-inch high heels before she left her hotel; she had always intended to go out dressed as David. But the more alcohol she imbibed, the less she cared that she might be losing control of her psyche.

When the other two gentlemen went to the men’s room Billy scooted his chair closer to hers. She had taken off her jacket and hung it over the back of her chair and the more she drank the more dishevelled her appearance became, despite the fact that during her frequent trips to the ladies to urinate she had tried to repair her makeup and straighten her clothes.

Billy leaned in and whispered in her ear.

“I don’t want to offend you in any way; you’re a bonnie lass, very attractive and a lot of fun, but my friends and I were wondering if you might be a troon?”

“Well I might be if I knew what one was,” Petra giggled drunkenly.

Billy put his huge hand on her knee and squeezed it reassuringly.

“Are you a transsexual? I don’t mind by the way; it’s none of my business really but I find you quite fascinating but every now and then certain mannerisms and things you say lead me to that suspicion,” Billy softly stroked Petra’s thigh.

Petra politely but firmly removed Billy’s hand from her leg.

“So what if I am? Is it illegal in Scotland to be a troon or is it that you and your friends find me offensive?” Petra sobered a little.

She didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“Like I said; I don’t mind. In fact I’m very attracted to you if I may be so bold,” Billy put his hand back on Petra’s knee and squeezed a little firmer this time.

“Look Billy, I’m flattered but I’m not looking for that kind of company,” Petra patted his hand but he refused to remove it.

“Me and the boys fancy you; you know what I said about mature ladies who come to this pub unaccompanied. You’ve made no effort to leave since yer chavie left and that was quite a while ago. We naturally assumed that you stayed on enjoying our company in hope that one of us might take you home,” Billy stroked her thigh.

“Look I’m very flattered but I’ve no interest in that sort of dalliance. I came to Edinburgh on business and it didn’t go the way I wanted it to and my friend left in a huff. I should have left too but drinking with you and your friends took my mind off my troubles,” Petra was unable to remove Billy’s hand from her thigh.

“Ok dear, no offence given and none taken,” Billy lifted his hand from her thigh and put it back onto the table.

He scooted his chair away from Petra as his friends fought their way through the crowd and back to table. One was tall and skinny and the other short and fat; they were both jovial but Petra saw them in a different light now that she knew that they were only talking to her in hopes of a shag. She wished she hadn’t drunk so much.

Petra got unsteadily to her feet and tried to fumble her way into her jacket; Billy stood and held it open for her and then helped her straighten it.

“These Sassenachs cant hold their liquor Billy; especially the lassies,” short and fat remarked and tall and thin laughed along with him.

“Look thanks for the drinks gentlemen but it’s time for me to go,” Petra was anxious to leave.

“Bollocks to that! Let us at least walk you home, the streets of Edinburgh can be dangerous this time of night, especially around here,” tall and thin remarked.

“Never mind that; let me call you a taxi,” Billy pulled out his phone.

“You won’t need a taxi, we’ll walk you,” tall and thin said a little more forcibly.

Petra had no interest in getting involved in a squabble with these lads. Her hotel was only three streets away and she held her purse close to her body and fought her way through the crowd to the door of the pub suffering the indignity of a few pats on the rump and a stray hand slipping under her skirt.

Once out in the cold fresh night air she started to feel a little better; she leaned against the wall and took a few deep breaths. There was no sign of the Mondeo but the pub was so crowded that quite a few drinkers were huddled on the footpath and some of them were looking her way.

She put her head down and walked determinedly away from the pub towards her hotel. Once away from the hustle and bustle of the high street bars and restaurants the streets became almost deserted, dark and quiet. She had only gotten halfway to her hotel when tall and thin sprang out of an ally in front of her.

“Well if it isn’t the Sassenach troon who thinks she’s too good for us Scottish barbarians?” he grinned at her evilly.

Petra tuned abruptly only to find short and fat behind her; he must have followed her while tall and thin took a shortcut to the alley.

“Please gentlemen; I’d be pleased if you let me pass, I’m not feeling well, it’s nothing personal,” Petra begged.

“We’ll see how personal it is when I stick my cock up yer tranny arse!” tall and thin grabbed Petra by the shoulders and dragged her backwards into the alley.

Short and fat followed, stopping to pick up one of Petra’s high heels, which had came off during the scuffle.

“Maybe a mouthful of dick will make you feel better,” short and fat paw started to paw at Petra while tall and thin tried to hold her still, which was difficult because he had to keep one hand over her mouth to stop her screaming.

Petra wriggled and flailed out at the two men. Tall and thin managed to push her against the wall with short and fat’s assistance. Short and fat tried to pull down her skirt but Petra resisted.

“What the fuck is going on here then boyos?” a deep voice growled from the dark.

“You’ve come for a piece of the troon as well then Billy?” tall and thin laughed viciously.

“You two are not behaving like gentlemen at all; you’re giving my home town a bad name. Now I’m giving you the opportunity to fuck off right now or I’m going to take your blocks off!” Billy barked at the two assailants.

They looked at each other briefly but even at the odds of two to one they knew they were no match for Billy Wallace. They let go of Petra and ran away down the alley as fast as they could.

Petra fell against the wall, hanging onto it, sobbing with despair.

Billy picked up her discarded high heel and held it out to her.

“There, there, missy; they won’t be back and I’ll be seeing them later if you know what I mean,” Billy said consolingly.

“I’ve just been so stupid!” Petra cried.

“I accused a man who used to my best friend of something he couldn’t have possibly done, I got drunk in the roughest pub in Edinburgh, I was rude to you and I stupidly tried to walk home,” Petra sniffled.

“Here. Take your shoe. And I’ll have you know the King’s Head is far from the roughest pub in Edinburgh and you weren’t rude; you were just abrupt. You were stupid trying to walk home though,” Billy smiled.

Petra took her shoe and smiled back.

She put her hand on Billy’s shoulder to support herself while she slipped on her high heel.

To Billy’s surprise Petra then pressed herself against him and kissed him.

“Thank you so much Billy,” she sighed.

“You’re welcome lassie; now let me walk you home please,” Billy still held her steady.

Petra looked up into his pale blue eyes almost lost in the shadows of his bushy brows.

“I can’t invite you up to my room Billy; it’s not that kind of hotel,” she whispered.

“I wasn’t even thinking of such a thing,” he tenderly brushed a stray bang out of her eyes.

“But I should reward you for saving me,” Petra moulded her body to Billy’s.

She kissed him and her hand found him hard and needy inside his baggy pants. Billy gasped into her mouth when she squeezed him.

“Let me take you to my place,” Billy murmured.

He had Petra pressed against the wall, kissing her, his hand searching for the hem of her skirt. Petra rubbed against him inviting his advances.

“No time for that and I don’t want the humiliation of leaving your place later tonight or tomorrow morning feeling any form of regret,” Petra guided his hand to her thighs.

“Do me here while I feel like I do now. Do me up against the wall; I want it quick, I want it dirty and I want it rough,” she begged him.

Petra struggled to break free of Billy’s grasp but when he let her go she turned and faced the wall. She hiked up her skirt, opened her legs slightly and pushed out her bottom invitingly.

“Come of Billy; fuck me!” she wriggled her bottom.

The sight of those long legs encased in gossamer hose, that firm derriere clad in white satin panties that seemed to shimmer in the gloom, her pretty face pouting at him over her shoulder begging him to fuck her stirred his loins.

Billy unzipped his fly and released the biggest cock that Petra had ever seen. The girth of it! The magnificent bulbous head glistening with precum!

“Put it in me Billy,” she bent her knees slightly offering her behind to him.

Billy closed in behind her, pulled her panties aside and stabbed at her buttocks with his rock hard cock; Petra sensed his frustration at not being able to penetrate the gusset of her pantyhose.

“Here, let me,” Petra whispered.

She reached behind herself and took Billy’s shaft in her hand and guided it to her sphincter. She snagged the sheer gusset of her pantyhose with her fingernail and steered the glans to her puckered bud.

“Billy just be careful now; I’m not lubricated,” she said just as Billy thrust forward.

Billy’s cock ripped into Petra, sliding past her sphincter and filling her anus.

Petra screamed into her arm to muffle her cries; it felt like a giant red-hot poker had invaded her anus.

“I’m sorry gilly; I haven’t done this before,” Billy sighed into her ear.

“Hold me tight and let me do it,” Petra said through clenched teeth.

Billy held Petra against him and nuzzled her neck, whispering endearments in her ear. Petra was not prepared for sex today and the only lubrication was provided by Billy’s pre-ejaculate. But she wanted it raw; she wanted to feel some pain as well as pleasure. She slowly gyrated her buttocks coaxing more precum from Billy’s throbbing cock.

“You keep doing that and I’m going to come,” Billy sniggered.

“Well then why don’t you fuck me?” Petra broke loose of his grasp and placed her palms against the wall.

She bent over; presenting herself to huge Scotsman.

Billy gripped her hips and began to fuck her.

“Come on baby fuck me hard! Use me! Fuck me like a whore! Give me your cock!” Petra didn’t know where this blasphemy had come from but she didn’t care.

Her anus was on fire; the pain from Billy’s huge cock pounding her tight passage was almost unbearable but beneath the pain she felt a delectable tingling. A scintilla of pleasure began to build and then quickly overcame the pain. The pain did not recede; it combined with the passion and pleasure.

As Billy fucked her harder and faster Petra pushed back against him to encourage him. She could feel his cock buried into her up to the hilt; his pelvis pressed on her buttocks.

“Come on you big Scot’s bastard fill me with yer spunk!” Petra ground her soft white buttocks against him.

Billy held her hips so tight that Petra thought he would break her pelvic bone; she would find massive bruises on her hips the next day.

He drove himself inside her anus as deep as he could and Petra screamed with the pain and pleasure; the wonderful pleasure.

She ejaculated into her panties.

Billy spent himself inside her and as he started to ejaculate he fucked her again; hard and fast, the semen lubricating his passage. Petra writhed in his grasp, pushing back and squirming her buttocks to milk him of the remainder of his issue.

Billy held onto Petra, gasping as his orgasm began to subside; he sensed that if he let her go she would collapse. Petra was panting, her knees shaking, her heels sliding on the cobbled ground as she tried to stay on her feet.

Billy pulled her upright and his penis slid out of her; Petra felt his spend seeping from her, running down her legs.

He spun her around and kissed her; holding her tightly against him.

“Hold me up Billy or I’ll fall down,” Petra sighed.

“I don’t think it’s the drink; I think it’s you that has caused my legs to suddenly turn to jelly,” she giggled.

“I’d like to think it was me,” Billy grinned down at her and kissed her cheek.

“And I’d like to take you home and study your legs a little more in the comfort of my bedroom. I’d like to study a lot of your appendages in my bedroom,” Billy grinned.

“Fuck it! Take me home! I’m too shagged and too pissed to argue with you, just promise me you won’t wake me before ten o’clock and if you get post coital regret because you shagged a tranny in your bed you won’t blame me,” Petra chuckled.

“You say the sweetest things you Sassenach troon,” Billy laughed along with her.

They rearranged their clothing and Petra leaned on Billy when he put his hand around her waist and steadied her while he walked her out of the alley to his car.

“Your come is running out of me and soaking into my knickers and sheers,” Petra sniggered drunkenly.

“You say the most romantic things,” Billy laughed and helped her into the passenger seat.

Across the road the man in black Mondeo put away his camera and lit a cigarette.

To be continued