I didn't know where to look. Enforced separation from the inimitable Fetishdoll had lowered my tolerance of the embarrassment factor her forthright manner could induce. Paul, to his credit, took his sister's remarks in his stride and, without a word, sprung up from his seat and headed into the hallway. A moment later we heard the door slam.

"Good, hon," Fetishdoll said, a crazed grin cracking over her cheeky, but deeply sexy countenance, "it's just us two. Now, where did we leave off?"

Well, was this a freaky day or what? It had started, what seemed like a century ago, with me losing my temper (not an unusual occurrence, I grant you) and hurling a ceaseless volley of abuse at our IT team. That had confirmed me in a foul mood for my return home, whereupon the hapless Paul blundered into my bad books by messing with my CD collection. That resulted in an immediate, but prolonged, spanking which had left him red raw and me all a-quiver. Taking his declaration of obedience to his newly appointed Mistress at face value, I proceeded to order him beneath my skirt to attend to my corporeal needs, and was on the verge of availing myself of his manly attributes when his sister walked in on us.

And now that self same sister was dragging me off to bed to finish what her brother had started.

As I said, freaky or what?

Not that I was going to argue. Experience had taught me there was no point with Fetishdoll anyway, and my pussy, although heartily satisfied by Paul's ministrations with his tongue, was still craving more action.

"Well," I said, "the last time we were together, before you disappeared without a trace - again - I think we had reached the stage where you could bring me off in less than a minute."

Which was true. Fetishdoll had discovered the secret route to Harriet's sexual inner core. One finger of the left hand inserted in my anus, thumb of the right hand in my pussy, two fingers rubbing up and down my lips and a fervent mouth sucking hard and long on my clitoris will have me screaming, squealing, begging for mercy and exploding in a rain of unadulterated passion in fewer than the requisite sixty seconds. Every time. Trust me.

"Oh yeah," Fetishdoll grinned, "I remember." She grabbed my hand and yanked me towards the living room door, then hauled me into the hallway and through to the - our - bedroom. "But," she continued, pulling her skimpy tee-shirt over her head and exposing her delightful, tiny tits, with their scary, sexy nipple rings, "since my dear little brother has been seeing to you already tonight, I think it's my turn. Sweet Harriet, get those clothes off, lover, and start some loving."

I ask you, could you resist?

In the wink of an eye I was naked and tumbling, Fetishdoll in my arms, onto the bed. Our mouths locked against one another, tongues exploring, as though searching for sexual inspiration. That wasn't long in coming, of course, as my hands began to roam over my beautiful lover, delightfully reacquainting themselves with the beauty that was Fetishdoll. All my frustrations, all my fury with the feckless beauty, all my recriminations dissolved into a groundswell of lust. I didn't know what to touch first, where to begin kissing. I was like a nervous teenager in her first sexual encounter. Fetishdoll had such a hold over me, controlled my sensitivities to such a degree, that I was almost overwhelmed by my desire for her.

I fixed my mouth on her breast, tasting the metallic taint of her nipple ring. It was mesmeric, drawing my tongue to it, as I tried to rotate it in her nipple. This was difficult to achieve, and I feared it might be painful for her, so instead I concentrated on sucking, and was rewarded by the delightful sensation of her nipple growing and hardening in my mouth: there can be few more rewarding experiences in life than feeling a woman's nipple grow in your mouth.

As I did so my hand was embarking on its peregrinations, taking in the beauteous delights of Fetishdoll's trim, lean, perfect body. I eased down from her breast, feeling the shape of her hip, sharply in and then equally sharply back out again, stroking downwards, revelling in her soft, warm flesh. At the extent of her hip I was satisfied to rest, glorying in the beautiful shape of her body; and then down, down, down her thigh, to her knee, where I changed tack and began to creep upwards again. Nails dragging on flesh, I slid my hand up her inner thigh, peachy smooth, skin taut and fresh, towards the haven of her pussy.

She was completely shaved, and her pouty lips were exposed and vulnerable. Already soaked, they parted easily for my hand, and I slid a finger, then another, inside her, glorying in the warmth and moistness of her inner folds. I had to watch, I had to observe her as I played with her pussy. Sliding my head from her breast I lay it on her stomach, feeling her belly button ring prodding into my ear, and watched, rapt, as her pussy reacted to my touch. Her lips were puffy and reddened, beautifully exposed beneath her plump, bald little mound; her clitoris poked shyly from its refuge, a magnificent, pearly ball, partly concealed but proudly standing out. I had to have it.

My tongue began to lap at her mound, feeling the delicate scratches of her almost invisible stubble, stroking downwards to her lips. I could smell her already, taste her arousal, sense her desire. She had such neat, trim little pussy lips, protruding daintily, beautifully contained, elegant and chic. You could gaze at her forever and never understand their perfection, never tire of their appearance. With my fingers still crawling inside her, stroking, sliding, cajoling, I lowered my tongue to her clitoris and flicked gently against it. Fetishdoll shivered and involuntarily pulled back. I did it again. And I did it again. And again. Again, again, and again. Fetishdoll's back was arced, her arms stretched wide, fingers clawing at the air; her leg was braced against me, stiff, her muscles hard and flexed; she moaned and sighed as I began to whip her clitoris into a ferment. I drew miniature circles around her, sliding my tongue up and over from time to time, reversing and drawing clockwise, then reverting to anti-clockwise, all the time my breath wafting over her exposed tip. And then I sucked.

Fetishdoll cried and grabbed my hair, pulling hard, dragging my head harder into her, my face onto her, forcing me down, compelling me to suck, to lick, to love her. And I did. And I did. And I did again. Fetishdoll's juices were running clear from her, coating my hand, covering my fingers. I licked each one, and then buried my face in the source of that nectar, my nose edged deep within her, tongue lapping from her clit downwards, stretching deep inside her, tasting her perfection, feeling the heat of her naked lust, sensing her desire. Fetishdoll was on fire.

"Fuck me," she screamed. "Fuck me. Dildo. There's a dildo in my bag. Get," she was almost incoherent with lust. I raced for her bag and found the dildo, ten inches and jet black, so thick I could barely get my hand around it.

"Now!"

I slid it up and down her slit, coating it with her copious juices, and slipped it inside her. She thrust her pelvis forward, rushing to meet it, and impaled herself deeply on it. Impatient with lust, she began to ride the dildo, bucking up and down on the bed, and I took up her rhythm, pressing, kneading, forcing the sleek, black object deep inside her with every movement. With my left hand I sought out her clitoris, first two fingers tickling and stroking either side of it. She whined, an almost pitiful whimper, then emitted a more Fetishdoll-like bellow:

"Yes! Jeesus, yes! Go, sweet girl, go!"

Her legs started to contort, muscles quivering, her thighs shaking and trembling as a climax began to erupt from her womb. She pulled her legs as wide apart as she could manage and I thrust the dildo as deeply as it could extend, my fingers gripping its very tip. With my left hand, I was now drawing delicate arabesques directly on her swollen bud and as I did she shreiked and began to dance wildly on the bed, overcome with the beginning of a climax which seemed to shred every nerve in her body, slice through each sinew, impress itself on every molecule of her being. The dildo was drenched, her fluids pulsing out of her like a man's, and her pussy lips, those wonderful, perfect, delectable pussy lips were crimson red with satisfaction. Gradually, her bucking and dancing began to subside, her breath, frantic as a runner's at the end of a race, started to return to normal and the wonderful red glow which adorned her face, neck and breasts toned into a satisfied, contented pink.

"Hell of a start, girl. Hope that brother of mine has lots of supplies to buy...End of round one..."