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Introduction

It is fair to say that the tale of Jenny and the Johnsons is a little unusual. It comprises of many different incidents, some of which are brief and others more protracted; most - it will please readers to learn - are filled with wild sexual escapade, which, on occasion, border the realm of the bizarre.

Before delving into these events, I will give some background regarding our main character, Jenny Harrington, beginning with a description of her physical appearance.

Jenny had a slender, naturally petite frame. The subtle curves that constituted her breasts, hips and rear allowed that she might easily pass for a girl still in her teens. She had an attractive face, strikingly so. Her pale complication was contrasted by a thick crop of long jet black hair. The weight of her beauty was in her eyes; they were a pale blue in their colour and framed by a set of meticulous onyx lashes.

It was the opinion of many people fortunate enough to look into those eyes that they were concealing a deep, perpetual sorrow. In truth, the emotions predominately hiding there were anger and hatred. This had not always been so, at fifteen Jenny had been immensely happy; full of life and love, excelling academically, and excited about the future which seemed to have destined her for greatness. At sixteen her parents divorced and her life crumbled into cliché. She started missing school, fell-in with the wrong crowd and began drinking alcohol and using soft drugs.

Eight years later, and a twenty-four-year-old Jenny found herself in a dead-end job, working six days a week as a hotel receptionist. She lived alone in a grimy studio flat. She had too few friends and too many failed relationships. She hated this world that had promised her so much yet delivered so little.

Incident 1: A Smile on the Train

The first incident involving Jenny and the Johnsons happened on a hot and sticky July evening. It was a Saturday, Jenny was on a train, a local stopping service, travelling home from work.

The journey was tedious. There were nine stops before her own and, to make matters worse, the train was packed, having stopped near a busy racecourse. Dozens of race-goers were crowded into her carriage, most dressed in suits or extravagant dresses. Worst of all for Jenny, they were all so happy. As their laughter invaded the air around her, Jenny shoved her headphones into her ears, turned her music up, closed her eyes and did her upmost to shut out the joviality.

Eight stops later she opened her eyes and looked upon an empty train, satisfied that she had accomplished her goal. It was not often that Jenny smiled, but the thought that another long hard week was at an end, almost achieved that rarest of pleasures, when the train came to an unexpected and shuddering halt. She looked out the window and recognised from the surrounding area that they were minutes from her stop. An announcement sounded, 'Ladies and gentlemen, this is your driver. I'm having trouble restarting the train. I've called for assistance...we may be here sometime'.

Jenny wanted to scream, and very nearly did before she noticed the train was not as empty as she had first assumed, a couple were sitting some five or six rows down from her. They were both mid-to-late forties. The woman was pretty, she had long golden hair and was wearing a glamorous blue-green dress, which highlighted her voluptuous body. The man too was handsome, despite the fact that his clearly once muscular physique was beginning to deflate. He had thick dark hair, going grey at the sides. He wore a suit, the jacket removed and the tie, which - much to the annoyance of young Jennifer - matched the turquoise of his wife's dress, loosened, no doubt to cope with the day's heat.

It will come as no surprise that the couple sat before Jenny on that train were in fact the Johnsons. Mike and Nicola Johnson to be precise. Married for some twenty years, with three daughters, and a perfect surburban lifestyle.

Jenny watched briefly as the two of them whispered playfully to each other, the smiles beaming across their faces. It was woman's smile that was particularly loud. Much like a picture it spoke a thousand words, including wealth, love and happiness. At that moment Jenny had never hated anyone or anything as much as she hated that woman. She closed her eyes, and turned her music up as loud as it would go.

A few minutes later Jenny realised the temperature was increasing at an uncomfortable rate, and concluded, quite correctly, that the air conditioning had failed in unison with the engine. Though she was dressed for the heat - wearing a plain black skirt, which fell just above the knee, and a short-sleeved blouse - it was now starting to become unbearable. She unfastened a couple of buttons on the blouse and slid the skirt up a modest inch or two, as she surveyed the idyllic green fields just outside her window. She could feel a pair of eyes watching her. She glanced over towards the couple we know to be the Johnsons, and could see that the man was staring intently in her direction. He poker oyna quickly diverted his gaze. His wife, Jenny noted, was now sleeping.

At this point something quite unusual happened. Jenny had essentially just caught this stranger, a man older enough to be her father, letching over her. She should have been appalled; instead she was aroused. The more she thought about him looking at her the more aroused she became. She stared towards him, in the vain hope of catching his eye. When this tact failed she tried another, closing her eyes and turning her head towards the window. She soon sensed him watching again. She slowly moved her knees into a position that had them facing the direction of the man and began to spread them. Her pussy began to tingle as she imagined the stranger looking upon her white cotton panties. She smiled and opened her eyes to confirm she had his attention. He returned the smiled.

Jenny's focus moved to his crotch, and the bulge that was forming there. She delicately placed a hand on her knee and, with a deliberate bite of the lip, began gently moving her fingers up the inside of her thigh. The man we know to be Mike Johnson, raised his eyebrows and puffed out his cheeks, acknowledging the extraordinary, and fortunate, situation he found himself in. Jenny's finger-tips were just at the seam of her panties when the train roared in resurrection. Jenny's knees slammed together and her head snapped back toward to the window.

A few short minutes later the train pulled into the platform. Jenny, now somewhat embarrassed, having had a little time to dwell upon her actions, dropped her head towards the ground and hurried through the station, making no attempt to seek out the man or his wife.

Incident 2: The Car Park

The next incident occurred a few weeks later. It was a Sunday, the heat wave was still raging and showing no indication of its imminent departure.

Jenny, against her better judgement, had accepted an invitation to her mother's house, for Sunday lunch. It had taken less than an hour for the easily foreseen argument to break out between Jenny and her younger sister; with their mother, as was more often the case in such circumstances, siding with the latter.

Jenny's scarcely touched plate of chicken and gravy was now miserably congealing, as she stormed home. The route took her past a supermarket, where she stopped for a medicinal bottle of vodka. As she was stood at the check-out paying, she noticed a man paying for some flowers and a bottle of Pimms. Though he was a short distance away, and his face was not in full view, she instantly recognised him as the man from the train.

It is worth mentioning at this stage that, following the initial incident, Jenny had thought very little about its occurrence. She had decided it was a moment of madness, brought on by extreme heat and frustration, and decided to forget about it. Now, however, having chanced to see this man again, the emotions came soaring back, accompanied by a familiar tingle.

After paying for her bottle of vodka, Jenny followed the man across the car park, until he climbed into a black BMW, completely unaware of her presence. She tapped at the passenger-side window. Mike, as we know him to be called, was startled, he turned towards her with a look of confusion, which very soon transformed into a smile of recognition.

Jenny brazenly opened the car door and sat herself in the passenger seat. The man seemed a little uncomfortable, and began looking around the car park.

'Remember me?' Jenny asked.

'Of course' the man replied, resuming his smile.

'And has he remembered me?' Jenny teased, grabbing his cock through his jeans.

'What the fuck are you doing?' the man snapped angrily, throwing her arm away.

'Well I was hoping to suck your dick but...'

The man stared at her, in silence, clearly agitated. Jenny bit her lip with a provocative smile. The man's breathing started to deepen. He inspected the car park once more and, finding it nearly empty, his frown vashined. Jenny took this as an acceptance of her offer.

She reached across and began to unzip his fly. When she pulled out his cock it was so hard it felt like it might rupture. Jenny looked him in the eyes once before more leaning over an taking him in her mouth.

'Fuck' he said, as she engulfed his entire length.

As any ex-boyfriend of hers would happily confirm, Jenny was exceptionally skilled in the giving of fellatio. She worked the shaft up and down, constantly fluctuating the speed and pressure, all the while she would exaggerate the squelching and slurping noises that this action produced. Every so often she would break-off, and rapidly flick her tongue across the tip of the cock, or give it a few short sharp strokes with her hand.

As she was happily sucking away, her first encounter with this man suddenly returned to Jenny's consciousness. She remembered his wife and the loving smile that her and her husband had exchanged. Jenny's already heightened level of arousal spiked dramatically. She wanted this man canlı poker oyna to fuck her right now. She broke off and sat up.

'My flat is round the corner' she said, wiping the saliva from her lips, 'take me home and put that in me'

'I...I can't' the man replied. Jenny frowned, annoyed. 'I really wish I could but I've got to be somewhere' he continued, looking at his watch.

Jenny shook her head angrily and opened the car door. 'Wait!' the man shouted grabbing her arm 'I do want to, I promise you. I just can't right now. At least give me your number'

Jenny was going to tell him to 'fuck off and die', when she once again pictured his wife's smile. She took a deep breath, gave over her number and left the car.

When she arrived home the streaks of wetness running down her thighs were almost at her knees.

Incident 3: The Introduction

Contrary to the first incident, Jenny thought of little else after the second. Over the next few days she masturbated repeatedly, even when at work she would sneak off to the toilet to relieve herself.

She was, however, growing increasingly frustrated by the lack of any contact from the stranger we know to be Mike Johnson; she was constantly checking her phone for missed calls and messages, but there were none to be seen. On Wednesday evening Jenny was sat on the sofa, wearing pyjamas, eating pizza and watching a few soaps on the television, when, finally, a message came through.

It read as follows: 'Hi. This is Mike. The guy from the train/carpark. How are you? What's your name?'

'I'm okay thanks Mike. My name is Jenny', was her reply. She could already feel her cunt getting wet.

'That blow-job was amazing'.

'Glad you enjoyed!'

'When can I have another one?'

'That depends'.

'On what?'

'Are you going to fuck me next time or run away again?'

'I'm sorry I really had to be somewhere! I'd love to fuck you'.

'Was that woman on the train your wife?'

'Yes, and I can honestly say I've never done anything like this before, but I can't stop thinking about you.'

'What's her name?'

'Nicola'.

'She's very pretty'.

'I know and I feel terrible doIng this to her. When can we meet up?'

'Tomorrow?'

'Yes! What time?'

A few additional messages went back and forth arranging the details of the meeting. Jenny was very excited at this prospect, but, she also very wanted a little stimulation right away.

'Tell me more about your wife', her next message demanded.

'I'd rather not talk about her if that's okay'.

'If you want this tomorrow, you'd better start talking'.

Jenny sent a picture of her perfectly bald and beautiful pussy. It had a pink blush, brought on by three days of near constant masturbation.

'You are a bad girl! What do to you want to know?' was Mike's instant reply.

'I want to know what she's like at fucking, so I know what I have to live up to'.

'I don't really know how to answer that. I think she's good but I can't imagine she's as good as you'.

'How often do you fuck?'

'Probably once a week on average'.

'Is she good at sucking cock?'

'Not as good as you. And she doesn't do it very often'.

'Why not?'

'I don't know'.

'Does she let you cum in her mouth?'

'No! She's not very adventurous'.

'Would you like to cum in my dirty little mouth tomorrow?'

'Yes, I would. If you keep sending me messages like that I might cum now!'

'I assume you've never fucked her arse?'

'No! She'd never allow that. I wouldn't even dare ask'.

'Have you ever fucked any woman in the arse?'

'No, I've not had that pleasure'.

'Well we'll have to see what we can do about that...'

Jenny