Then...

Robert Brinkley recalled his last few months in prison.

He was enamoured with a transvestite prisoner named Mary Reynolds. Most of the old timers didn't condone men having sex with other men in prison but the younger breed was more enlightened. A lot of prisoners would accept blowjobs from submissive or effeminate inmates and even fuck them if so inclined. It didn't make you gay; you were just being pragmatic, men needed release. Most of the men who did this did not consider themselves homosexual and reverted to heterosexual only relations when released.

But it was different for Robert. He didn't even register Murray Reynolds existence but whenever Mary Reynolds emerged from the makeshift dressing room behind the stage Robert became lovestruck.

At first he thought that his affair with Mary was only ever going to be a prison relationship but as Mary's release date approached, with his not far behind her, he began to fantasise about continuing their relationship outside.

At first Mary was reluctant to engage with Robert; that was until Robert forced her into a cleaner's closet and had his way with her. It lit a spark and Mary discovered that she really liked having sex whilst presenting herself enfemme. She tolerated Robert because he was enraptured by her, and he could protect her, being one of Larry's henchmen. Then, when he told her about the big scores that he helped Larry Connelly smuggle into Europe she set him up so that she could steal some of the loot and live full time as a woman far away from anyone who knew Murray Reynolds.

Robert knew all this. He knew he had been played for a tosser, he knew that she did not return his adoration... but he couldn't stop thinking of her.

He remembered the small stockroom in the prison that doubled as the play production office. The battered desk and chairs, the musty mattress he had laid on the floor. The mounting excitement as he crept along the corridor, entered the stockroom, and locked the door behind him.

Mary was dressed just the way he liked her to be. Her brunette hair cut into a cute bob with the fringe framing those delectable icy green eyes intensified by heavy black eyeliner and mascara, her eyelids daubed with burgundy and purple eyeshadow, rouged cheeks and those succulent plump lips glazed with bright-red lipstick. She was wearing a black micro-miniskirt which exposed the dark gauzy welts at the top of her fully-fashioned stockings, her white chiffon blouse revealing the red satin bra she wore underneath. He knew that the tits filling the cups of that bra weren't real but he didn't care. He also knew that she was likely wearing matching red satin panties under that skirt. Her feet at the bottom of those long toned legs clad in diaphanous nylon were shod in red 'fuck-me' high heels; her costume jewellery glittered in the dim light of the single table lamp.

The clothes, shoes and makeup that she wore were not requisite to her role in the play in which she played a femme fatale. Robert had smuggled the clothes, shoes and makeup in for her. He payed off one of the guards to bring in all sorts of contraband on behalf of Larry so why not treat his girlfriend to nice things.

He knew that Mary didn't consider herself his girlfriend but he didn't care; it's what he thought that mattered.

She smiled at him and ran her tongue across those luscious red lips; she wanted it as much as he did. It had been three days since their last meeting and they were both concupiscent and eager.

Mary was leaning back against the desk facing him and he stepped into her and kissed her, breathing in her delicious scent. They wrapped their arms around one and other and sighed. As was often the case they didn't have much time but Robert was determined to enjoy his princess to the fullest.

He slipped his tongue into her mouth; she tasted like sweet berries. He had been semi-hard for the last hour or so and when Mary raked her fingernails across the front of his jeans his cock engorged to full tumescence. He slipped a hand down to her legs and explored her thighs. The feel of her smooth soft skin sheathed in the gossamer nylons was incredible. Mary shivered with lust at his touch and gasped into his mouth when he began to slide his hand under her skirt and caress the creamy skin above her stocking-tops.

He found her erect inside her satin panties and he squeezed her gently, smiling when she sharply respired. She smiled too and began to unbuckle his pants. He eased away from her just enough to let them drop around his ankles. Mary freed his rampant penis and using his pre-ejaculate as a lubricant she began to slowly stroke him. He reciprocated the gesture and freed Mary's considerably sized member from her panties and caressed it. Their kisses became more wanton and greedy.

Robert placed his hands around Mary's slim waist and hoisted her onto the desk. She smiled up at him seductively and opened her legs. He stepped between them and kissed her and she wrapped her legs around him. He shucked off his shirt, he wanted to feel those cool, sleek nylons on his flesh. She extended her legs so that he could pull down her panties, her skirt was rucked up high on her waist and the desktop felt cold under her buttocks but she didn't care.

Mary opened her legs and put out her arms invitingly and Robert stepped into her embrace. She locked her arms and legs around his body and pulled him close as she slid her tongue into his mouth. Robert pulled her buttocks to the very edge of the desk and placed his penis at the entrance to her anus.

She clung to him, kissing him deeply as his shaft slid slowly inside her. She cried out when it was in her to the hilt and Robert took her in his hand. They remained bound together, enfolded in Mary's arms as Robert began to slowly fuck her, stroking her cock in time with his thrusts. Mary moaned and urged him on; they were both close to extremis having not been together for so long.

Mary's cock convulsed, ropes of hot semen erupted from her throbbing phallus. The scalding seed splashed onto Robert's belly and coated his fingers. He kissed her harder as she writhed with lust. Her actions elicited his own climax and he plunged himself deep inside her and ejaculated.

Now...

Robert came out of his reverie and stared at the house across the road from his parked van. It was an Edwardian red brick two-story with a neat garden out front. An identical house was beside it and he knew that it was there that the lad he had seen in the pub lived. He'd given the teenager a ride home because the boy was hopelessly drunk and incapable of walking.

The boy had rambled on drunkenly about being betrayed by his aunt and his neighbour and as much as Robert had tried to interrogate the boy about his next door neighbour he would just meander into an incessant rant about the two women deceiving him.

Robert considered just breaking into Abigail Thompson's house and beating her until she disclosed the whereabouts of the stolen money and jewellery. It was his usual modus operandi when dealing with people who had for some reason or the other offended him.

He looked down at the photograph and he couldn't help but sigh. Abigail might be a conniving stealing lying bitch but he still had feelings for her. He didn't understand why he felt like he did about her but it didn't matter; he was infatuated by her and longed for her. But he had a job to do. He set his resolve and opened the door of the white Transit van with the magnetic sign 'Falcon Electrical Contractors' emblazoned on the side. The numberplate on the van was conveniently obscured with a daub of mud. When he ripped off the magnetic sign the Transit would look like the thousands of other vans that travelled up and down the British motorways and backroads.

***

"I know about you and Abigail," Steven Balfour said unpretentiously to his aunt.

Beatrice McLennan had come into her nineteen-year-old nephew's room to admonish him for his behaviour yesterday evening when he had come home drunk from the pub. She was dressed in a navy-blue business suit with a tight pencil skirt, white cotton blouse and black high heels. She was heading into London for the day to see her investment banker again and wanted to look good; she wouldn't be home until late. Her makeup was perfect if a little heavy.

Steven was sitting up in bed, glaring at her when he announced to her that he knew about Abigail and her. Beatrice suddenly felt faint.

"She's not really a woman though is she? Well you know what I mean, she's a transsexual woman; you know... she has a cock. And you like her to stick it in you," Steven gnarled.

The click-clack of his aunt's high heels on the polished wood floors seemed deafeningly loud as she strode over to him with her hand raised.

Steven's reaction was lightening quick and he caught the blow inches from his face. He tightened his grip and twisted Beatrice's arm, forcing her down onto the bed. She sat on the edge of the bed, fuming but speechless. She sighed with relief when Steven let go of her hand and she tried to get up.

"Where do you think you're going Auntie Beatrice?" he said harshly.

"Sit back down!" he ordered.

Beatrice was fuming, outraged but dumbfounded. Then she opened her mouth to admonish her nephew but she never got a chance to speak.

"I filmed you with my phone. It's not very good quality but you can definitely see that it's you and the whore next door shagging. I'm not sure whether to post it online or keep it for myself," Steven sneered.

"Keep it for yourself, you degenerate. I know the porn sites you visit; it will make a good addition to your sick little collection of smut. I know what you've been doing with my underwear and my stockings too you sick little bastard!" Beatrice exploded.

"You're the sicko! The night you came home drunk and made me rub your feet and then pretended to be asleep and showed off your cunt to me through your pantyhose! That was sick!" Steven retorted.

"Sniffing and wanking into Abigail's knickers is sick too, especially now that you know she has a cock, you little perv!" Beatrice countered.

Steven started to laugh.

"We can trade insults all afternoon auntie; I'm the one with the video of you shagging our good neighbour. You're supposed to be a respectable spinster and I'm the randy young man; it's expected I'll be doing sexually deviant things. But when I send that video to the rest of the family well..." Steven grinned evilly.

Beatrice paled. You didn't have to be a Rhodes Scholar to know where this was heading.

"Surely you don't think you can blackmail with that video Steven," Beatrice bluffed.

"Oh I'm positive auntie Beatrice. I've made copies and stored them in the cloud. The copy on my phone is ready to be emailed, all I have to do is hit send," Steven lied; he had no video.

Beatrice was resigned. She noticed the bulge in the sheets and knew exactly what Steven wanted from her.

She stood up and at first Steven was afraid that she had called his bluff but then she started taking off her jacket.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"I'm hardly going to let you fuck me in my best suit now am I?" she grinned at him.

"I guessed this day would come, you can cut the sexual tension around here with a knife," she said unzipping the side of her skirt and catching it deftly before it hit the floor.

She stepped out of the skirt and took off her blouse and folded them neatly, putting them on top of her jacket on the chair by the window.

Steven was speechless.

She began to climb onto the bed dressed only in her red satin panties, matching bra, sheer taupe hold-up stockings and her heels.

"Here are the rules. You tell no one, I mean absolutely no one, about us. You tell no one, I mean absolutely no one, about Abigail being transsexual and her relationship with me. We have sex only when I want it, I am not going to be your plaything ok?" by the time she had finished her speech her face was inches away from his.

He looked into her eyes, enhanced by eyeliner, eyeshadow and mascara. He raised a finger to her red-lipsticked lips and she bit it playfully. He could smell her perfume and her womanliness. She was straddling him, he was naked under the sheet and absolutely terrified that he was going to prematurely ejaculate.

"You're a virgin aren't you?" she smiled seductively at him, the tables had turned, she was in control.

Steven nodded; his eyes locked on hers.

"You will probably come before I put you inside me but that's ok. A young strong boy like yourself with raging hormones will recover quickly," she whipped off the sheets and exposed his huge erect phallus.

She had seen it before but never up this close. It was thick and meaty with pulsing blue veins running down the sides, the glans were pink and swollen and leaking globules of pre-ejaculate.

Beatrice licked her lips in anticipation and got up on one knee. She eased aside the gusset of her panties and lowered herself on the boy's throbbing cock. She felt him ejaculate as soon as he entered her.

Steven was transfixed watching his cock slide into his aunt's hot wet tight cunt. He reached out to her steady her but it was too late, the feeling of his cock encased in Beatrice's slick vagina invoked his climax. He cried out with the ecstasy of it and then Beatrice's lips sealed his and he moaned into her mouth as she ground against him, extracting all of his spend, driving her sodden labia into his pubis so it rubbed on her clitoris. She gasped into the boy's mouth as she too climaxed.

She lay on top of her nephew until he finished shuddering and then she arose, still sitting astride him; his cock buried deep inside her had not shrunk or lessened in girth at all.

"Good boy," she smiled down at him.

"Now give auntie a good shagging before she goes out for the day," Beatrice began to ride up and down on her nephew's engorged phallus.

***

Dressed in blue coveralls with the logo for Falcon Electrical Contractors emblazoned on the back, Robert Brinkley walked confidently up the pathway towards Abigail Thompson's house carrying a tool bag. He noted that the garage was empty and that the place looked deserted. There was no burglar alarm and he quickly defeated the door locks and let himself inside.

Her scent hit him as soon as he entered the house; it was like she had walked through the room only seconds ago. Robert knew that Abigail had left for town to go shopping early that morning, it was the one piece of useful information that he was able to get out of the blubbering teenager last night. He had all day to explore the house and wait her return.

Robert had dreamed of this day for so long now that he had played out a number of scenarios in his mind. Every plan that he imagined involved making love to Abigail before he took retribution. She'd changed. She was even more feminine if that was possible, it was impossible to tell that she was not a genetic woman. He loved her new hairstyle; the black shoulder-length bob with burgundy highlights and the straight cut fringe just above those gorgeous green eyes. She'd filled out a little and was very curvy and those tits looked amazing. She'd had some alterations made to her face but she was still the same gorgeous Mary Reynolds that he had fallen in love with.

Robert had taken a series of photographs of her this morning with a powerful telescopic lens as she had prepared to depart for the day. He was tempted to follow her, maybe force her off the road on some backroad, drag her into the back of his van and have his way with her; but this was better. He could wait for her to return and take his time with her. In the meantime he had her house all to himself to explore at his leisure. He doubted that she kept all of the money and jewellery in the house; she likely had it stashed in numbered accounts or a safe deposit box, but he bet she kept some of the loot on hand in case she needed cash in a hurry.

It was going to be fun getting her to tell him where the spoils she had stolen were hidden. He hoped that she resisted just a little, she had bewitched him, captivated him, and then played him for a fool. He loved her, but she had to pay. Oh yes, she had to pay.

And he intended to take his time about it. She had a good setup here from what he had gleaned. No reason not to stay a few days, a few weeks, maybe a few months; what could she do about it?

***

Steven Balfour was the happiest nineteen-year-old boy in the world. He had just shagged his gorgeous, sexy auntie who was more than twice his age. Losing his virginity to the woman of his dreams had been better than he could have imagined. She'd taught him things he'd never dreamed of in the scant amount of time they had spent together in his bedroom; they'd fucked three times and she'd obviously enjoyed it as much as he did because she promised him that tonight he could come to her bed.

Beatrice McLennan was sore, but sore in a good way. Her nephew had been insatiable and at the height of his sexual prowess and had stayed hard long enough to fuck her three times. Of course she felt guilty, and so she should, she was shagging her sister's son which was probably illegal and certainly immoral. But they were both consenting adults.

Her sex life had recently become a conundrum. She was shagging a teenage relative and the transsexual next door neighbour. She was certainly enjoying the spice of life. She wondered if she should discuss this new development with Abigail. She was certainly aware that Steven fancied the pants off Abigail and would likely make a pass at her. She smiled to herself as she imagined Steven's surprise when he found at that Abigail was packing a penis in her panties. Anyway, most likely Abigail would reject Steven's advances. The last thing that Abigail needed was more complications in her life.

Steven was in a good mood when he finally got out of bed. He couldn't stop thinking about what had happened with his aunt and conjuring up what would happen tonight in her bed. It was a nice day outside so he decided to try to clear his mind by doing some heavy gardening in Abigail's back garden. He'd made a decent go turning the labyrinth of fruit trees and undergrowth into an almost recognisable garden. He was pleased with efforts and keen to make further improvements. Who knows, if he did a half-decent job maybe Abigail would throw him celebratory shag he chuckled to himself.

***

Abigail took scant notice of the white Transit van parked on the verge across from her house. Transit vans were like arseholes; it seemed that every tradesman, deliveryman, contractor and travelling salesman in the UK had one. She parked her BMW outside of the open garage doors so she could unload it easier. She heard Steven Balfour chopping away in the back yard and considered calling him to help her carry in her purchases but then she'd have to deal with him sniffing around her like a dog on heat. Although she had to admit that ever since the afternoon she and Beatrice had spied on the boy, which led to them making torrid love to each other, she wouldn't mind putting that large appendage of his to work. But he lived a little too close to home to strike up a dalliance with, and besides he was only nineteen and her new lover's nephew.

Robert Brinkley didn't hear Abigail's car pull up nor did he hear Steven Balfour hacking away in the back yard because the house had double-glazed windows; but her heard her key rattle in the side door leading to the kitchen. He let her put her purse and groceries down on the kitchen table before he made his presence known.

Abigail smelled the cigarette smoke as soon as she entered the kitchen. She smoked herself now and then but this was pungent fresh tobacco. She gasped when the kitchen door slammed closed behind her. She was almost too scared to turn around, a thousand thoughts ran through her mind but deep down she knew who it was.

"Hello Mary, sorry, it's Abigail now isn't it?" Robert Brinkley leaned against the door, smiling at her.

Abigail's mind raced. She could scream but she doubted that Steven would hear her and even if he did Steven would be no match for Robert Brinkley. She could try to run but there was nowhere to go in the house where Robert wouldn't chase her down. It wasn't a matter of fight or flight; she had no chance of doing either successfully. There was only one string to her bow, one weapon in her arsenal so to speak, but she doubted that Robert was going to be fooled by it again. She could see the bulge in his pants and she knew what fate awaited her. Robert was going to take what he wanted from her regardless of what she did. Her best chance was to try to seduce him and then overpower him or escape some way. It had worked once before but she didn't have a hypodermic full of sedative in her purse this time.

"Hello Robert, long time no see," Abigail smiled at him repressing her terror, trying to act as calm as possible.

Robert leered at her, casting his eyes from head to toe. Abigail was dressed provocatively as usual, a short black skirt, red satin blouse, black fully-fashioned stockings and four-inch high heels. Her black hair framed her pretty face enhanced with her signature dark eye makeup, rouged cheekbones and cherry-red lipstick. She was adorned with silver jewellery and enveloped in a cloud of Shalimar.

Robert stepped into her, his face only inches from hers. He remained silent, staring at her, studying her features. She gasped when he suddenly reached around her and snatched her purse off the table. He stepped back and turned out the contents on the kitchen table.

Two sets of keys, a small bottle of perfume, a small tube of lubricant, a packet of breath mints, cigarettes, notes and coins of various denominations, two opened letters, a credit card folder and the other detritus that women carry in the Tardis that they call their purses lay scattered on the tabletop.

"No sedatives, syringes or narcotics then?" Robert said sarcastically, stirring the clutter with a long finger.

He snatched up a keyring on which was clipped a safe deposit box passkey and dangled it in front of Abigails face.

"Looks like we will soon be taking a trip to use this," he whispered.

"The bank is in London," Abigail offered, she knew he would get the information out of her eventually anyway.

"And the rest? It can't all be in here," he shook the keys in front of her face.

"I have a couple of other bank accounts. I have some cash here in the house, I own the house and the Beamer outright," Abigail admitted.

"You're being very forthcoming," Robert was taken aback at her forthrightness.

"What's the point in not telling you? You are going to get the information out of me one way or another; you're a standover man for god's sake," she sighed.

"But I was looking forward to extracting the information from you," Robert sneered.

This was the cue that Abigail had been waiting for.

Abigail struck a seductive pose, thrusting out one leg and leaning back against the table; she gave him a submissive flirtatious look and fluttered her eyelashes. She took a chance and slowly reached out and stroked his cheek.

"Robert. It doesn't have to be this way. I went into hiding from Barry Pinkerton and Larry Connelly not from you. I would have contacted to you but it was too dangerous," she said meekly.

Robert grinned at her and reciprocated, stroking her cheek too.

"I suppose I get that, you didn't know if I would give you up did you?" he whispered.

"But we can make up for lost time. I'll give you half of everything that's left from the heist; the house is worth nearly a million pounds so I can sell it too," Abigail continued.

"Or I can live here with you. Larry will never know where to go looking for me. I can disappear off the grid just like you," his smile turned into a grin.

"I'd like that," Abigail mewled.

She leaned in and kissed him softly. Robert wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, he intensified the kiss and drove his tongue into her mouth and Abigail put her hands on his shoulders and pressed herself against him.

She reached between their bodies and found him turgid inside his jeans. She squeezed him and he gasped. Abigail sensed his need, she would let him fuck her here in the kitchen and then take him upstairs. If she could get him on the bed maybe she could reach into her bedside table and get her hands on her pistol; she didn't know what would happen after that but at least she would be in control.

"I wanna see those new tits of yours," Robert broke the kiss and began to paw at her blouse.

She let him unbutton it and take her firm breasts out of the cups of her red lace bra.

"Fucking magnificent," he groaned, hefting the pert globes in his hands.

Abigail gasped as he thrummed her sensitive nipples. They hardened to his touch and then he lowered his face to her breasts and began to suckle them. Despite the situation Abigail was becoming aroused as Robert lapped and nipped at her engorged teats. She was still squeezing his cock through his jeans bringing it to full tumescence.

Abigail began to fumble with Robert's flies but he became impatient. He disengaged from her, unzipped his fly, unbuckled his belt and yanked down his jeans and underpants in one swift movement. His prick stood out proud and throbbing and Abigail's instinctive response was to reach for it.

"Oh no girly. I want more than a wank from you," Robert pulled her away from the table and pushed her to her knees.

His turgid shaft was right in front of her face.

"You know what to do you whore," Robert pressed forward and Abigail obligingly opened her mouth.

At least his cock was clean, Robert had obviously taken the time to freshen up before she got home. She wondered what else he had been up to alone in her house but she let that train of through pass for now and concentrated on working on the magnificent erect member that was entering her mouth.

She knew how Robert liked it, working her lips slowly up and down his shaft whilst using the tip of her tongue on his fraenulum, she smiled around his cock when she heard him gasp. He put his hands to her face and guided her head as she bobbed up and down on his cock. Although she was a prisoner in her own home that feeling of power and control that she always felt when she was having sex with a man returned. Also she couldn't control her body's instinctive reaction to sexual stimulus. She was becoming hard.

Abigail knew that she would have to put on good performance to lure him into a situation where she could get the upper hand. They had been jailbird lovers and he would know if she were faking it. She freed her erection and began to stroke her penis, she looked up at Robert with feigned devotion, she knew that he liked to look into her pretty green eyes while she fellated him. She felt his cock pulse in her mouth and knew that she was having the desired effect on him; she saw that he was looking at her engorged penis while she stroked it whilst sucking his cock, he liked that too. For all his faults Robert had always liked her to enjoy having sex with him, even if he was effectively violating her, just like that first time in the cleaners closet.

She could feel his cock become fully turgid, secreting a constant flow of precum, a sure sign that he was about to climax.

As she fully expected he would, Robert pulled her to her feet. He liked fellatio as much as the next man but to him sex meant fucking and Abigail was intent on giving him what he wanted. She hiked herself up onto the kitchen table and opened her legs invitingly. Robert stepped between them and pulled her panties aside exposing her puckered bud. Abigail was about to protest when Robert snatched up the small tube of lubricant that he had shaken from her purse.

"You always were a good Girl Guide, what's their motto... 'Be Prepared,'" he chuckled as he lubricated his shaft.

Abigail smiled at him, lewdly stroking her erect penis. The phase that came to her mind was 'Lie back and think of England' as she concentrated only on giving Robert a good time to lure him into a false sense of security. Robert daubed a gobbet of lubricant on the entrance to Abigail's anus and then slid his finger inside her. He knew where her 'special place' was and she moaned like a harlot when he found it.

Robert leaned over her and kissed her and she instinctively locked her arms and legs around him and drove her tongue into his mouth. Robert interchanged his finger with his penis and very slowly began to slide it inside her. Abigail tried to push against him, to fill her void with his hard cock but he held her down and teased her, putting just hus glans inside her and then pulling it out, then pushing it back inside her again, but only just.

"You want it don't you, you whore," Robert murmured around their crushed lips.

Abigail nodded, still not breaking their kiss, trying to force more of him inside her. Robert broke the kiss and gazed down at her pretty face, contorted with lust and need.

"Beg for it!" Robert sniggered.

Abigail conceded that she had lost the upper hand for now, she just wanted to be fucked.

"Fuck me Robert. Please fuck me," she pulled his face to her again and kissed him passionately.

Abigail gasped into his mouth as he slid his cock all the way inside her. She locked her legs around him, ensuring her stockings rubbed on his flanks, she knew that he was captivated with their gossamer tactility on his sensitive skin.

It triggered the response she wanted.

Robert took her buttocks in his hands and squeezed them as he began to thrust his cock in and out of her back passage, slowly and steadily building the pace. Abigail had forgotten where she was and the danger she was in, she was filled with carnality and a compulsion to sate her desires.

Their mouths were locked and tongues working frantically as they both gasped and moaned. Abigail's tight rectum gripped Robert's engorged cock like a velvet glove, she contracted the muscles in her anus to stimulate them both. The shaft of Robert's penis triggered little wavelets of pleasure from her sphincter whilst his glans pressed on her prostate inducing a deep quickening that would soon trigger her orgasm. Her cock was rock-hard and pulsating, a dribble of pre-ejaculate oozed from it and soaked into her satin blouse. She didn't care, she just wanted release.

And so did Robert. He thrust harder and deeper and then Abigail felt a growl resonate from back of his throat as he drove his cock deep inside her as far it would go. She knew he was coming and she clung to him and writhed on the table, skewering her buttocks to encourage him to climax.

Robert roared as he peaked, his cock convulsed and spewed forth a geyser of hot creamy semen. Abigail screamed and raked his back with her nails and locked her ankles behind him, grinding against him, draining him of his seed as her own cock spasmed and erupted, spattering her blouse with her issue.

They kissed and ground against each other, eliciting every scintilla of pleasure for each other. Their orgasms seemed to go on forever until finally they were both spent and Robert pulled away from her even though she clung to him wanting more. His sperm flowed freely from her sphincter and dripped on the kitchen floor.

Abigail lay panting on the table almost exhausted; her legs akimbo, her blouse saturated with seminal fluid. Robert pulled up his pants and buckled his belt or but did not zip his fly. He staggered over to fridge and opened a can of lager and drained it in one continuos swallow.

He took something from the fridge and pushed it into the waistband of his jeans.

Abigail got up on her elbows with some difficulty and watched him and when he turned around she was amazed to see that he was still erect. His swollen member jutted from his flies like a steely pole.

"Wow! Already?" Abigail's lust had abated sufficiently that she was ready to try to take control of the situation.

"Yeah already babe. You know the effect that you have on me and I've missed you for so long," he slammed the empty can down on the top of the fridge and strode over to her and pulled her upright so that she was sitting on the edge of the table.

He stepped between her legs and began to kiss her tenderly and she responded, mewing with contentment.

She held his face between his hands and gazed at him lovingly.

"I could get used to this," she smiled up at him, hiding her deceit from him.

"I could too Abigail, we could live together and make love every day," he tenderly brushed her fringe out of her eyes.

"Why don't we go up to my bedroom and make love where it's more comfortable and then we can discuss our future," she mewed.

Robert's countenance changed in a split second and she saw violence and hate replace the lust in his eyes.

He hauled her off the table and spun her around and then hurled her back into it and bent her over; he pressed her head into the tabletop and then slammed the pistol down next to her face. Her pistol.

"Yeah Abigail, lets go upstairs and make love. You fucking whore! Did you really think you could sucker me a second time you fucking bitch!" Robert's growled.

"Live with me Robert. Make love to me Robert. Let me give you half of all I have Robert," he mocked her.

"I know why you keep that tube of lubricant in your purse. Because you are a fucking tranny whore! A conniving bitch!" his anger was becoming more intense and Abigail began to shake.

Bent over and pinned down on the table she was defenceless.

"I'll tell you what's going to happen you trollop. We're going for a drive into London and you are going to get everything out of that safe deposit box. Then we are going to go online and you are going to transfer every penny you have into an account of my choosing," Robert was so angry she could feel his spittle on her back as he bellowed at her.

Abigail tried to nod her consent but she couldn't move her head.

"Then we are going to transfer the deed to this house into my name too," he continued.

"After we have done all that, it will take some time so I will need to fuck you now and then to keep me amused, I'll decide what I'm going to with a penniless tranny whore. I probably won't need you any more," his rage had abated and his tome was now icy and distant.

Abigail preferred him angry, this cold-blooded emotionless Robert was not one she had encountered before and she was genuinely scared for her life.

"But before we do anything, I'm going to fuck you up the arse like the slut you are," Robert took his hands from her head and pushed her body down hard on the table.

He locked her wrists together behind her back with one hand and held her down and kicked her feet apart.

"I don't think you are going to enjoy this at all you trollop, but I don't care because I am. In fact the more you squeal the more I'm going to like it," Robert hissed and then drove himself deep inside Abigail, viciously penetrating her.

She screamed and so did Robert. Then Robert suddenly went limp and she felt hot liquid soak into her back and the coppery smell of fresh blood assailed her nostrils.

Robert's body fell to the floor and Abigail spun around to see Steven Balfour standing with a bloody carving knife in his hand. He was in shock staring at the man on the floor. Robert began to groan and tried to get up despite the blood oozing from a sucking chest wound.

Abigail snatched up the pistol off the table and emptied it into Robert Brinkley.

The kitchen was deafeningly quiet after the loud report of the pistol. The air reeked of cordite and blood. Abigail held the gun limp at her side and Steven likewise stood shivering, loosely holding the knife down beside his leg. They were both in shock and speechless and remained that way for what seemed like an eternity.

Then Steven spoke.

"What do we do now?" he whispered.

***

The van went up in a whomph. The deserted carpark at Black Tree Bluff was suddenly lit with a crimson glow and then illuminated almost like daylight when the flames found the Transit van's petrol tank and it exploded.

"And the police won't be able to identify him and come looking for us?" Steven Balfour shivered even though the heat from the burning vehicle was scorching his face.

"After what I did to his teeth and what happens to his body in that fire his body will be unrecognisable. You can guarantee he stole that van so it can't be traced back to him," Abigail took a packet of cigarettes from her handbag and offered one to Steven who declined.

"Good boy," she smiled at him briefly and then turned her face to the burning van.

She lit a cigarette and inhaled.

"Robert Brinkley was degenerate criminal, a vicious standover man. When and if he's reported missing the Old Bill won't give a toss, probably throw a party. They'll think that Larry Connelly had him put down or someone he wronged in the past reeked revenge. Either way, the fucker's gone from our lives forever now," Abigail crushed out the cigarette with her high heel and then though twice about it and picked up the butt and dropped it in her purse.

She and Steven were leaning against her BMW.

"Come on," she pushed herself off the car and hopped into the driver's seat.

Steven had driven her car here and she had driven the Transit van. As they left the carpark and descended the bluff there was a faint orange glow above the treeline.

"The cops won't get out here for ages. Kids are always knocking off cars, taking them for a drag and then burning them out," Steven said almost unconsciously.

"Criminal mastermind are we?" Abigail chided him playfully.

"No, but you are. I didn't hear everything that bloke said to you, but I get the gist that you committed some sort of crime that put him on your trail and you certainly knew him well enough," Steven retorted.

"Speaking of criminality, I suppose I'm lucky that you're a perv. If you hadn't been watching that man shag me you couldn't have come to my rescue," Abigail decided to take the conversation down a notch.

"I only came in for a glass of water but when I saw you lying on the table being shagged by that bloke I decided to watch for a while. You seemed to be enjoying it until he bought out the gun," Steven said candidly.

"Let's just say that Robert and I had a chequered history and leave it at that. I suppose that we are now partners in crime so it goes without saying that this remains our secret," Abigail patted his knee.

Steven just nodded.

Abigail was wondering when Steven was going to ask her about the other elephant in the room... that he had just found out that she was transsexual woman.

They drove in silence for a few minutes and then Steven spoke.

"Now that we are partners is there any chance of shag?" he said.

Abigail was so shocked that she nearly left the road, then she burst out laughing.

"You're not backward in coming forward are you?" Abigail was amused at the boy's audacity.

"Anyway, we need to get home and get cleaned up before Beatrice returns from London," Abigail smiled at Steven.

They were both wearing the same clothes they had been wearing since Steven had rescued her from Robert. They were ripped, bloodstained and reeked of petrol and smoke. Abigail would burn them as soon as they got home.

It was then that Steven remembered that his Aunt Beatrice had invited him to share her bed that evening. The wheels in his head went around and a grin formed on his lips.

"About Aunt Beatrice... there's something I have to tell you," he smiled.

The End

Comments, criticism and encouragement is always welcome xxx Michele