Pass the Ketchup dear! - Sex Stories

Pass the Ketchup dear!

... her for me. Don't you love?" She patted Jim's knee. Jim looked at Kate and smiled, then to Mary, who was scowling at him. The officers shifted uncomfortably. "I think we're finished here." One of the officers said, standing up. The other officer followed as they walked to the door. Mary followed close behind. Pausing at the door, the first officer turned around, Mary bounced off his chest and she looked up, embarrassed. He addressed Jim and Kate, "If you hear anything, you can reach me at this number." He held out a card which Kate took. The officer thanked them, then held the door open for Mary, who scuttled towards her home. It was warm, so they slept with the windows open, Mary's ecstatic moans drifting across the street on the breeze. The next afternoon Mary arrived at Kate's door. She saw Jim leave for work that morning and didn't want to face him yet. Kate opened the door. "I think I've broke it!" Mary said, standing on the doorstep. "Broke what?" Kate asked. "Jim's sex machine." Said Mary. "It must have a puncture or something; the dildo bit has gone soft! I couldn't find a valve or anything to pump it back up with!" "I'll send Jim over when he gets in from work." "No!" Mary said, a little too harshly, "I can't face him yet; not now I know he doesn't like me." "It's not like that." Kate said kindly, "He just doesn't like the way you flaunt yourself around." "Oh!" Mary said, "Could you help me carry it back over here anyway? I'm still not too comfortable around him." ...

... They both went over to Mary's house. Paul was propped up against the bed, his limp penis pointing sadly at the floor. They picked him up and took him over to Kate's, where they left him in the garage, returning to the kitchen for a coffee. Mary had left by the time Jim returned from work. Kate showed him what had happened to Paul. "I checked for a pulse." She said. "Couldn't find one though. It looks like she's fucked him to death." "It's how he would have wanted to go." Jim laughed. "What do we do with him now?" Kate asked. It hadn't occurred to her that they'd need to dispose of his remains when they'd finished with him. "I'm not sure?" Jim replied; but after dark they drove out to the car park where they had dumped Paul's car, removed Paul and a pair of shovels from the boot and, walking into the dark forest, they found a spot where the ground was soft and started digging. Jim had removed the plaster cast in his garage, but left the cling-film on; holding their noses, they removed it, along with the gimp mask, and dumped the carcass into the hole. Filling the grave quickly, levelling the earth and covering it with fallen leaves, they shook the dirt from their clothes and returned to the car. At home, they breathed a sigh of relief, showered together and retired to bed. Making love, it reminded Kate how much she depended on Jim; he was her rock, and she his. She thought of Paul; how the sound of her and Jim fucking would have tormented him in his prison. Did he really deserve ...