I’d assumed SIPPS magazine was about wine, juice and spirits, expected to see paintings of bottled beverages and bowls of fruit decorating the reception area…
Instead, the white walls were hung with black-and-white prints of naked couples shagging, not what you’d expect to find behind the wooden doors of a house posing as an office. Feeling nervous, I could have done with a sip of something – preferably vodka. Maybe more than just a sip…
A woman approached as I hovered by a couple of black leather sofas.
“Abi?” she asked.
“Yes, that’s me.”.
“Hello. I’m Naomi. Thanks for coming at such short notice.”
“Actually,” I said, looking at the pictures, “I think this is a waste of time.”
“Let’s have a chat…”
I followed her out to the back of the building.
More white walls, more graphic photos.
Alarm bells rang. Loudly.
What the hell did SIPPs stand for anyway?
“Did you bring a CV?” Naomi asked, once we’d settled in her office. More white walls. More candid pictures – something of a recurring theme.
“May I see it please?”
I pulled an envelope from my bag and handed it over.
She studied the contents.
“So, you were writing for the local paper. And you can start immediately – great! Do you know anything about SIPPs?” she asked. “Do you know what it stands for?”
“No.” I felt embarrassed. “I didn’t expect such a prompt reply to my email…”
I hadn’t expected a reply at all. My job applications usually vanish without trace, I don’t even receive an acknowledgement.
When I’d spotted the ad for a reporter earlier that morning, I’d filled in the online form, hit send and moved on to the next vacancy. A few minutes later an email arrived inviting me to attend an immediate interview. Finding something to wear and locating the address of SIPPS HQ left no time for research.
“You thought SIPPs was a mag about brewing cider and the like, didn’t you?” Naomi asked.
“What do you think now?”
“Well, judging by the photos, I reckon the S in SIPPs stands for sex…”
“Yes, SIPPs stands for Sex In Private Places. Or sometimes it stands for Sex In Public Places. It all depends on the theme of the stories we’re running,” Naomi said, cryptically.
I’d never heard of a mag that tweaked its title according to content. How did they build a readership on that?
“The stories in SIPPs are true and mostly supplied by our subscribers,” she went on. “We like to keep the features authentic, like the contributors to pose for photos wherever possible.”
I glanced at a picture of a couple fucking over a wheelie bin. Naomi followed my gaze.
“You mean they were actually outside…”
“Originally, yes. We recreated the scene in our studio – finding a wheelie bin wasn’t hard and the couple couldn’t wait to do it again. We’re a close-knit team of professionals,” she added.
No way I’d fit in then. My recent conduct was anything but professional.
Naomi scanned my CV again.
“Why did you quit working for The Weekly Times?”
I’d been dreading that question; hoped nobody would ask it. Should I tell the truth, or should I lie …
“Were you sacked?” Naomi probed, impatient for an answer.
“No. I walked out,” I said, opting for the truth.
“I was caught in flagrante.”
Naomi lit up like a candle on Christmas Eve.
“Wow!” she said. “That sounds like a story for SIPPs. What happened?”
“I was having sex with a colleague and my boss walked in on us.”
“Go on,” urged Naomi. “Tell me more. “Who were you with?”
“Rick, a salesman.” I picked up my bag, made to leave. “I’m sorry, I’ve wasted your time…”
“On the contrary – I’m offering you the job.”
I should have been pleased but I wasn’t sure about working for SIPPs – did I want to write about couples fucking in public places or private places or whatever she’d said?
“How about a trial period of three months?” Naomi suggested.
I hesitated. Her offer meant I could earn money while looking for something else…
“Okay, thanks. When shall I start?”
“Great. Where will I be working? Show me my desk and I’ll go straight there in the morning.”
“Oh, you won’t be working here,” Naomi replied. “I’m sending you off on a special assignment…”
The following morning, I parked outside The Railway Tavern in Railway Village – thatched roofs, hollyhocks, an old-fashioned red telephone box, and a duck pond.
“So here I am,” I muttered, getting out of the car. “And my mission is to find a couple who shagged by the railway lines.”
There, I’d said it out loud. I couldn’t believe what Naomi had asked of me, couldn’t believe I’d taken up such a bizarre challenge.
“SIPPs readers love stories about couples fucking in extraordinary locations and situations,” she said. “They can’t get enough of them.”
“Sex by the railways lines though – how did you hear of it?” My brain hummed with questions. Did any trains pass them? Were they naked? Were they on the grass, the platform…where?
“I heard a rumour years ago,” Naomi replied. “I’ve sent reporters to Railway Village before, but they’ve found nothing.”
“A rumour? So, it might not even be true…”
“But then again,” said Naomi, “It might…”
I studied the pub, its tacky tin sign swinging in the breeze. How could I find this infamous couple, assuming they even existed? How would I track them down? Reporters have a nose for stories, but I could hardly stroll around Railway Village asking the inhabitants if they’d orgasmed as a train sped by.
Disheartened, I wandered into the pub.
“Can I help you?” Bottle-blonde and fake-tanned, the woman wore a low-cut white top and a short black skirt, standard dress for a waitress-cum-barmaid, the only difference being the absence of a bra.
“I need somewhere to stay for a few days. Can you recommend a hotel?” I asked, trying not stare at her boobs.
“There aren’t any hotels, but you can stay here.”
She grabbed a key from a hook by the till. “This way -. I’m Leah.”
“Are you here on business or pleasure, Abi?”
“Business. I’m a reporter for SIPPs.”
“Wow, that’s really racy mag!”
“I’m surprised you’ve heard of it.”
“Everybody’s heard of it,” she said.
I was beginning to wish I hadn’t…
Once she’d gone, I opened my laptop. There was a message from Naomi:
Hi Abi, I’d love to know more about you being caught in flagrante!
Could you write about it, please? I’ll use it in SIPPs, pay for the privilege. You can use a pen name if you like…
Half of me wanted to start writing while the other half, advised caution. Did I really want to relive the experience I’d been trying to blot out? I wasn’t proud of what I’d done; it kept me awake at night, so perhaps writing it down would be cathartic. Was I a slag? A nymphomaniac? Why hadn’t I resisted Rick that day? Then again, how had I resisted him for so long?
Switching off the laptop, I glanced in the mirror. I looked tired and my hair needed washing…
An hour later, with a change of clothes and clean hair, I wandered down to the bar.
Leah was, surrounded by blokes perched on stools. Eyes fixed on her boobs, they wanted to see more.
“What can I get you?” she asked.
“A large glass of white wine and a ham sandwich, please.”
I glanced at the customers. Apart from the horny blokes, there was a couple in their fifties, the woman still attractive with greying blonde hair. A group of tattooed youngsters played the fruit machine while some young mums, their babies in buggies, sat at the table by the door. An old boy was drinking alone; a suited man did the same.
Was there anybody here who’d performed by the railway line? I doubted it.
The following day I set off in pursuit of…well, I wasn’t sure what I was in pursuit of, but knew I had to get out and start hunting for info.
It was a glorious day, sun shining, birds singing. I wandered down a path leading to the railway track because it seemed the logical place to start, even if I didn’t know what I was looking for, or when the event had taken place. It could have been yesterday, last week, or years ago, assuming it had happened at all.
“Perhaps they’ll be a couple shagging in the undergrowth,” I muttered negotiating the nettles and brambles invading the walkway. The track was over to the left screened by trees and hedgerow, so there was no danger of me being run over by the 10.25.
Which was just as well because I wasn’t concentrating on imminent dangers; I was thinking about sex.
Not sex involving the couple I was investigating, but my escapade with Rick. Could I recount it? Would Naomi use it in SIPPs? Did I want her to?
I kept walking and thinking, walking and thinking. Then, fed-up, I headed back to the pub. Perhaps if I did some online research, I’d find some clues. If the story was true, then somebody, somewhere had to know something…
Well, that was the plan. Instead, I fired up my laptop and started writing…
Rick joined the firm a couple of months ago. As Jonathan, the boss, made the introductions, Rick undressed me with his eyes.
I was in love with Jonathan, had been since the day I started as his PA, but he’d shown no interest in me.
Rick wanted me though…
I started wearing my shortest skirts, undid the top three buttons on my blouse and bought a push-up bra. Jonathan didn’t notice but Rick did. He followed me around making sexy remarks; I enjoyed the attention.
“Let’s have an affair,” he suggested. “No strings, just sex…” It sounded fun and I was about to say yes when I noticed the wedding ring on his finger. Reality kicked in. I wanted to screw him, but didn’t want to screw his relationship, didn’t want anyone to get hurt, so I refused him. I went back to knee-length skirts and polo-necked tops, hoping he’d go off me and settle for his wife.
It made him worse.
And then he started touching me…
Should I send it to Naomi? Perhaps I should finish the story first…
The first time Rick touched me was in a meeting; he slid his hand up my skirt. I moved his hand away. He put it back, this time a little higher.
“Stop it!” I hissed. Jonathan glared at me. Tasked with taking notes, I hadn’t a clue what he’d said. Knowing he was turning me on, Rick smirked, and his hand crept back, his fingers stroking my thigh. The desk shielded his antics, but Jonathan kept staring at me – I swear he knew what was happening.
“Are you okay?” he asked at the end of the meeting. “You seem flustered.”
“I’m fine. It’s hot in here.”
“Is it? Perhaps you’d better arrange to get the boiler serviced. In the meantime, please type up the notes from the meeting.”
I started but couldn’t think straight; the report was full of errors. Rick wandered in and perched on the end of my desk.
“Have you thought any more about my proposal?”
“No,” I lied. I’d thought of nothing else. Sex. No complications – why not? His wife wouldn’t find out…
Unzipping his fly, he pulled out his penis. “This is what you’re going to get. This is what you’re missing.” His cock, already semi-erect, looked beautiful. I wanted to take it in my mouth, wanted it inside me…
Footsteps sounded outside the office.
“Get out,” I hissed.
“Until next time,” he whispered, shoving away his dick.
“There won’t be a next time.”
I checked what I’d written. “I’ll need a pen name.” What the hell was I thinking?
“Hi gorgeous! Where are you off to?” Rick asked.
“The boss’s office.”
“He’s away…” Rick hugged me close. “But you’ve got the keys,” he whispered as we walked towards Jonathan’s den. “So, unlock the door …”
I tried to protest; no words came out.
“Let’s get in there before anybody sees us,” Rick said.
He shoved his hand down my shirt and inside my bra, lowered his head until his lips covered mine. My body responded, told him what he wanted to know…
We were outside Jonathan’s office.
“Unlock the door.”
Trembling, I aimed the key at the lock.
“You don’t know how much I’ve wanted this,” Rick said, as we stumbled inside.
Undoing the buttons on my blouse, he eased it from shoulders and down my arms. It fell to the floor; my skirt followed. I didn’t attempt to stop him.
“Wow,” Rick said appraising my lacy underwear. “You’re so beautiful.”
Taking me in his arm, he kissed me; it left me breathless and wanting more. Removing my bra, he chucked it aside exposing my breasts. “Gorgeous.” He kissed my nipples, circled them both with his tongue. Then, sliding his thumbs into the sides of my panties, he eased them down my thighs, and I stepped out of them.
I was naked in my boss’s office with a colleague who was fully clothed. Rick’s erection bulged against his fly, straining for release.
He hugged me to his suit, rubbed the bulge against me, expensive grey cloth grazing my nakedness. Skimming my hard nipples across his lapels, I was putty in his hands. He clutched my buttocks, pulled me closer…
“Please come,” he whispered as I ground my cunt into his suit. “Please come.”
His fingers probed, tweaked my pubic hair, gently tugged at my clit. A couple of strokes…
…and I was there.
“Oh God,” I moaned as waves of pleasure claimed my body. “Oh Rick…”
I couldn’t believe I’d behaved so wantonly.
“My turn now.” My climax barely over and Rick dragged me over to Jonathan’s antique desk. He’d inherited it from his grandfather, along with the business.
“Not on there,” I said. “He loves that desk, keeps it waxed and polished.” Serving as the office showpiece, it displayed photographs that chronicled the history of the firm.
Rick cleared the photos and removed his jacket and shirt, revealing a tanned, well-muscled body. Excited, I was nervous about what he had in mind.
“Get on the desk,” he ordered, undoing his fly.
“I don’t think…”
He removed his trousers and boxers in one move, revealing a sizeable erection.
“On the desk.”
I sat on the polished wood, swung my legs across.
“I want you on all fours.”
Turning over, I placed my palms down on the smooth surface rising on to my knees, widening them so Rick could enter me…
“Wow.” He slid in his cock and pumped. Kissing my hair, he grabbed my tits. “You are fantastic.” Then, grasping my waist, he held me tight as the thrusts increased and I felt a climax building…
“Harder, Rick, harder,” I moaned. “Please, don’t stop…”
I looked up; Jonathan was standing in the doorway.
I was on my boss’s precious desk being fucked by one of his employees, and he was watching me. But I couldn’t stop. I was too far gone. All I could think about was coming.
“Please don’t stop Rick, please…”
“Oh…” Rick spotted him, too. Jonathan didn’t move an inch or bat an eyelid, just stood there, watched the pair of us approaching orgasm…
I yelled at Rick, urging him on. He slammed into me, harder, harder still, until an intense climax claimed my senses. I’d never experienced anything like it before, couldn’t believe what I’d been missing…
Staring at Jonathan, I rode out the best orgasm of my life.
I looked down for a moment.
And when I looked up again, he’d gone…
I re-read what I’d written. Should I press send? Did I want Naomi and the SIPPs subscribers knowing my shame? Or was it something to be proud of? I had no idea. It had been the greatest thrill of my life, and I couldn’t forget it, didn’t want to forget it, even though I tried to convince myself otherwise. And given the chance, I’d probably do it again…
If published how many people would read the story? What if a friend spotted it? Or a member of the family?
Decisions, decisions, decisions.
Saving the document, I closed the laptop.
Downstairs, in the bar, nothing had changed. The customers seemed the same.
“You look fed-up,” Leah remarked.
“I don’t think the job is for me.”
She handed me a glass of wine. “On the house,” she said as I reached for my purse. “What’s the problem?”
“My boss sent me here to find a couple who’d allegedly shagged by the railway lines. What I’ve just told you is all the information I have – I don’t know where to start. Any ideas?” She didn’t seem remotely shocked. But then she was familiar with SIPPs.
“You could post something on social media. You’ll get a response but not necessarily from genuine sources. Hi – same again?” Leah moved along the bar to serve a customer.
I downed the wine, wondered what Leah would make of my story.
She’d probably love it, wear her sexy T-shirt and masturbate over it.
Would my shenanigans give people orgasms? What an idea! It wasn’t something I’d considered before, but as I’d enjoyed being watched by Jonathan, surely folk would be turned on by reading about it…
Upstairs, I re-read what I’d written, pressed send and instantly regretted it.
I blamed the wine. With any luck, the wi-fi was glitchy, and Naomi wouldn’t receive the message…
Thanks for sending your story. It’s brilliant! I’ve scheduled it for publication in three months’ time. I’ll need a few more details but we can discuss them while we take the photos…
Photographs? Shocked, I re-read the email – it was 7.30am. The story was one thing – I could stay anonymous. But pictures? Of me? I thought back to the sexy black-and-white prints on the SIPPS office walls. I remembered what she’d said about getting the writers to pose for their stories. Would she want me nude? Yes, of course she would! SIPPs was a porn mag…
I packed my stuff, grabbed my laptop, and headed downstairs.
Leah hovered behind the bar.
“I’m going back to London,” I said. “How much do I owe you?”
While Leah sorted the bill, one of the customers, the woman with the grey/blonde hair appeared.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m Carrie. I’m glad I’ve caught you. I overheard what you said to Leah yesterday – I can help.”
What had I said to Leah yesterday?
“Sex by the railway lines?” Carrie prompted.
“Do you know the couple?”
“Yes, but it’s not what you think.”
“Let’s have coffee…”
At the office, Naomi greeted me like a conquering hero.
“Now you’re back, we can get on with the photo-shoot,” she said.
“I’m not stripping for the mag. I don’t want to do it.”
“We need pictures to go with your story…”
“Well, you’ll have to find somebody else. Authentic pictures would mean involving Rick. And anyway…”
“I’ve already spoken to Rick,” Naomi said. “And you’re right, he won’t do it. He said your sexy session had already caused him enough aggro. Jonathan has agreed to stand in for him though – we’ve got it all arranged.”
It sounded like a set up!
“How did you find Rick and Jonathan?”
“Social media – where else? And besides, the company address was on your CV.”
“Well, you’ll have to find a woman to pose as me.”
“No – Jonathan will only do the shoot with you.”
The thought of being fucked by Jonathan for a camera thrilled and terrified me in equal measures.
I couldn’t bare my body for the camera – could I? Confused, I’d forgotten my news.
“I know who had sex by the railway lines.”
“Great. You can enlighten me after the photo-session.” Naomi said. “It’s scheduled for this afternoon.”
“I’m not doing it. I don’t want to …”
“Yes, you do want to. You fancy Jonathan and enjoy being watched; you said so in your story.”
“Well, yes, but the photographer will be a stranger.”
“The photographer won’t be a stranger,” Naomi said. “It’s me.”
“Yes,” she said. “I take all the photos for SIPPs.”
Could I go through with it?
Then again…why not?
I had nothing to lose, plus Jonathan had already seen me at my most intimate…
He’d agreed to the session, said he’d only do it with me. And I fancied him, loved him, fantasized about fucking him. Here was my chance. And Naomi was right. I’d enjoyed being watched…
“I haven’t seen Jonathan since he saw me with Rick. He didn’t even text me after I walked out – I can’t just get undressed and…”
“Yes, you can,” Naomi interrupted. “You did with Rick.”
She was very persuasive…
Jonathan was in the office when we arrived. He’d already cleared the desk of its paraphernalia, removed his shoes and socks.
“At last,” he said.
“Let’s get undressed,” Naomi suggested. “No clothes mean no inhibitions.”
“You take photos in the nude?” I asked, as she started stripping.
“Sounds good to me.” Jonathan took off his tie and aimed it at a chair. His shirt and trousers followed. Shrugging off his boxers, he climbed on to his precious antique desk.
“It’s about time this desk saw some action; well, from me, anyhow…”
I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
“What are you waiting for?” he asked, stoking his penis.
“Yes, get a move on.” Disrobed, Naomi revealed a fit body. Eager to get on with the session, she fiddled with a complicated-looking camera.
“I don’t think I can go through with this. Let me tell you about the couple and the railway line and then I’ll leave.”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” Jonathan said. “Can we just get on? I’ve wanted you ever since I saw you with Rick. I was so jealous of him. You looked fantastic, so wanton, so wild. I can’t get the images out of my head.”
“Do you need help removing your clothes?” Naomi asked.
“No thanks, I can manage.”
Eyes on Jonathan, I stripped off my shirt and jeans: Naomi took a couple of shots.
Clad in my bra and pants, I hesitated; she took more pictures.
Naomi unhooked my bra and yanked it off. Fingering my thong, she slid it down my legs. More photos: I wondered if any would end up on the office walls – a scary thought.
“Wow,” Jonathan said. “You’re even more gorgeous than I remember.”
Turned on by Naomi’s touch, Jonathan’s nakedness, my nudity and what was about to happen, I joined Jonathan on the desk.
“You need to be on all fours, same as with Rick.” Naomi instructed.
Jonathan started stroking, kissing and licking my body. Never had I felt so alive or turned on. Naomi clicked the camera, again and again…
Cupping my nipples, he slid his penis inside me. We both gasped with pleasure.
“That is brilliant.” Naomi said. The thought of the pictures appearing alongside my words added to my arousal as Jonathan quickened his actions.
“Wait,” Naomi shrieked as I started moaning. “I must capture your facial expression – yours too, Jonathan.”
I tried to hold back; Jonathan grunted, pumped faster …until it was over.
“Wow, that was amazing,” I panted.
“I’ve got some brilliant photos.” Naomi handed us towelling robes. “The six-page spread in the mag will be fantastic. And I am so turned on!”
Licking two fingers, she began stroking herself.
Jonathan grabbed the camera and started taking pictures as she masturbated to a climax.
“I can write about this session,” I said, as her body spasmed, her facial expressions distorted. “Another story for the mag with pictures to prove it.”
“I’ve never appeared in the mag before,” Naomi panted.
“Then it’s a first for both of us,” I replied.
“So, tell me about the railway lines…”
“It was a woman called Carrie and her boyfriend, Dan.”
“They had sex by a railway line?” Jonathan asked. “Dangerous!”
“They were 18. They couldn’t use Dan’s bedroom because he shared it with his brother. But Dan’s dad had a model railway set out in the shed. So, it became their perfect place – sex by the railway lines!”
“Another brilliant story for SIPPs. I’ll need pictures to go with it, though. Would Carrie and Dan oblige, do you think?”
“I’ve already asked Carrie and she said no.”
“Are you two up for another session, then?”.
I glanced at Jonathan.
“Do you know anyone with a model railway?” I asked.