“Jay; get up, you’re going to be late.” Jean shouted at the top of her voice over the edge of the banister. Jamie was a typical angst ridden teenage young man, lazy and disinclined to venture out of bed before the last minute, or he had been forgotten about.
He moaned something unintelligible in response, turned over and covered his head with the duvet; sure in the knowledge that he could get at least another five minutes before his mother screamed up again.
Jean returned to the relative sanctuary of the kitchen and her tea cooling on the breakfast bar. She checked the calendar, crossing off Thursday with the marker pen on a string. Avril, her thirteen year old daughter had made and brought home the renewable calendar in ‘design technology’. It held pride of place on the wall, accessible by the whole family to mark significant dates like birthdays. Today had the words ‘lunch Judy 11.30’; a lifelong friend. They had grown up together, neighbours, gone to school together, dated and where really more like sisters than friends. They married within a few months of each other, had baby boys only a couple of days apart. Their lives had mapped out so closely throughout; they had the same problems, similar children and husbands. Jean was looking forward to her date.
Tea drunk, she set about getting her eldest child out of bed. Instead of yelling up through the banister as she had too many times, Jean marched down the passage, climbed the stairs up to the top landing, burst into Jamie’s bedroom, then without saying anything, yanked off the duvet. Jamie galvanised into action, covering his nakedness and jumping up as if stung with a hot poker. In the split second between his sudden uncovering and the reactive jump out of bed, the mother glimpsed his stiff fur covered cock, pointing at the ceiling. ‘That will please someone one day’, she thought to herself; not in the least excited by the sight, just proud of her son’s physique. At sixteen, he was very much growing into a man with all the right proportions.
“I warned you.” She told him over her shoulder as she left for the shower with a show of his dismissal. She heard his, whatever muttered softly to her retreating back. Well she had warned him countless times, even promised a bucket of cold water, his embarrassment would do for now, perhaps he would get up in the morning from now on.
Eventually, the house emptied of her children, off to school, leaving her the dishes and a pile of dirty clothing trailing from bedrooms towards the family bathroom. Somehow, the clothes never quite made it to the linen basket until she picked them up. Jean finished showering, dried and took time over her choice of clothing.
An hour and half later; Jean had tidied up, washed the dishes, put them away and chosen a simple white blouse over a black short skirt to wear; patent leather low heeled sling back shoes and minimal make up; just a light dusting of eye shadow, a quick brush of a blusher under a thin foundation. She looked critically in the full length mirror, noticing for the millionth time, the blemish of a small brown mole at the corner of her left eye. She was not pretty, she thought, couldn’t be described as a beauty by any standards, but she was passable, could hold her own in a crowd; at least Bill thought so when he joked it would need to be a large crowd. After nearly twenty years married, his jokes all sounded the same, worn and dated, same as their conversation, their sex life and pretty much everything else. She switched off that train of thought before it went too much further and left her crying as she did too often these days.
Her eyes were too wide apart, her nose not in proportion, being small and upturned; her skin needed help; her hair was always a struggle to control, being too fine and a russet brown that she wished was blonde. Jean shrugged as she usually did, tried to accept her plainness, not let the familiar pangs of a slight jealousness toward Judy, who was one of those lucky bitches who always looked fabulous, never seemed to put an ounce of fat on even after childbirth, who’s clothes always fitted straight off the rail and always looked as the designer intended; who made Jean feel second rate, an almost, a could have done better, type of person.
She left the semi-detached house, locking the door behind her. Her car waited on the drive, only a sensible Honda Civic, but enough for her needs and the occasional school run when the kids were running too late. She drove sensibly into town, parked safely in a designated spot, fed the machine the correct amount of coins, took the ticket and stuck it prominently in the screen. Bill had a thing about parking fines; he always went over the top if she collected a fine. It inevitably led into a row that ended incomplete when he shut down at her mention of some independence, a bank account of her own perhaps, a life that wasn’t solely wrapped around him and the kids. Bill couldn’t see that Jean needed something else, something that took her away from the house, away from family matters, away from total immersion; he refused to believe she would need to be someone other than Misses Gallaher, house wife; he would refuse to continue the argument as soon as she got into that area, would turn his back or simply walk out of the room.
She arrived at the restaurant ten minutes early; secured a table by the window and settled to wait for Judy who would be fashionably late as always. Jean waved the waiter away as he hovered at her shoulder and watched the passing people who all seemed to be rushing to somewhere important. The only ones ambling looked hopeless; aimless and without purpose entirely; she felt conjoined with them, had an empathy with their plight; understood the maudlin feeling of lack of direction, as if they were all just waiting to die with nothing left to look forward to.
Her mobile phone chirruped in her handbag after she had sat there for nearly half an hour. She hated the damned thing, but agreed with Bill, to keep it for emergencies.
“Hello”. She didn’t think to look at the screen to see who was calling her.
“Hi, it’s Judy”… the mechanically tinny voice announced “…Jean, I’m so sorry, I can’t make it today; something has come up. Can we make it next week? I’ll tell you all about it then; okay?. Thanks hon.”
“Oh! Okay.”
“Thanks; love ya.” The connection was broken at the other end.
Well bugger that, thought Jean; Judy was just like everyone else who she was associated with, never a thought for my feelings, no thought about what I might want, she didn’t even ask how I was or even where. She waved at the waiter and ordered a large glass of Merlot; told him no; she didn’t want to eat, just the wine thanks.
It was while sipping the deep red wine that Jean made the decision to take over her life, or at least, made the decision that would lead to the mastery of her immediate future. She had thought many times in the past about making some radical changes, Judy letting her down was the final tipper, her resolve was set.
Feeling completely new, somewhat rejuvenated, Jean left the restaurant to find a labour agency. She had decided to find a job, it didn’t really matter too much what it was, but something that would provide the first step towards her independence and a life she could call her own; to hell with what Bill had to say about it; it wasn’t like they could discuss it, he never wanted to know.
An hour later, she had an application form in her clutches. The initial interview with a girl a fraction of her age had gone well. Her typing speed and accuracy were pretty good for someone who hadn’t been in employment for the last fifteen years. She supposed the hours spent on her son’s computer, writing short stories and articles for the church magazine had helped.
She headed towards the park, it was a nice day, she intended to fill out the application on a bench and then hand it back to the too young recruitment consultant. Jean found a seat in the small, pagoda covered cafeteria and ordered a tea. The form only took her a few minutes to complete; she put it back into her bag and relaxed to enjoy the sunshine and steaming drink.
She noticed him sitting at another table no more than ten paces away. Her first thought was that he was beautiful; beautiful in a very male sense, his features conspired to create a picture of maleness that had all the attributes of Adonis. His dark hair, slightly silvered at the sides, was immaculately combed, cut into his nape. His suit was obviously expensive, well tailored and fit as it was designed; Paul Smith, she thought.
Jean appraised him, judging his age to be around middle forties. His brown leather shoes that complimented the rest of his garb were polished to a high shine, almost patent in lustre.
She realised he was smiling with an enigmatic lift of one corner of his sensuous mouth. Small creases at the edge of his eyes gave rise to the supposition he might smile often. Jean realised his smile was directed at her. Immediately self conscious, she withdrew her stare and studied her hands instead. After a few minutes, she chanced another glance in his direction. He remained exactly as he had before, smiling slightly, returning her appraising look. Again, Jean looked elsewhere and then smiled herself, at her own sense of the ridiculous; she was acting like a crush ridden school girl, the smile was as much for her own depreciation as the unfamiliar flutter in her breast, a feeling she had thought long gone.
She shrugged slightly when her next glance revealed that he no longer sat at the table. She felt a small disappointment, but dismissed it and prepared to return the completed form to the labour agency.
“Allow me.” He had come from behind, grasped her chair back and took her elbow; an old fashion courtesy. His voice matched him perfectly; cultured, with a vibrato that hinted a good baritone signing voice.
“Oh;” She jumped at his sudden appearance. “Thank you.”
He pulled the chair away from the table as she rose to allow her room to turn to face him. He was very close to her, perhaps too close for comfort, her personal space felt invaded. The unfamiliar flutter returned in her breast; suddenly she was nervous, but she couldn’t think why except perhaps his familiarity in closing down the gap between them.
“Frank.” He stood several inches above her, perhaps six foot she guessed. His cologne carried on the slight breeze, she didn’t recognise it.
“Um… Jean.” She felt confusion, but excited by his attention.
“Well Jean, can I walk you through the park? It’s a lovely day, some company would be nice.” Without waiting for her answer, her took her arm in a familiar manner and steered her through the maze of cast iron tables and chairs to the expanse of the pathway of the park.
They chatted like old friends as the scenery slipped by unnoticed. He was in town on business, ran an accountancy practice with three partners; was unmarried, at least not married after a divorce. Had three children, all of whom had grown up and left home. Lived in a small village in Buckinghamshire, loved dogs and kept a horse, but didn’t ride. Jean told him of her life, marriage, children, and then completed her story with the announcement of her immediate plans towards emancipation. As the time went by and they did a second circuit of the park, she found herself liking the man more and more. She felt relaxed, even a little relieved to have shared her plans with another human.
“Would you like a drink?” He asked, “My Hotel is just around the corner from here.”
Jean thought about it for a second. Then began to talk her self out of it, then; thought, why not? She answered, yes, she would love a drink. Privately, she thought it might lead to something else, something rather more dangerous than a simple drink. The realisation that she was being picked up came as a surprise to her normally safe and protected life, it made her feel wanton, but more than that, she found didn’t care. It wasn’t like her life was so full of excitement. Jean revelled in the wantonness of what she was entering into; she marvelled at her willingness to fall into this brief encounter; she considered the repercussions and then dismissed them all along with any guilt.
A short walk later found them in his Hotel room and ice melting in two glasses of gin and tonic. They sat opposite each other in arm chairs in the adequately sized sitting room of his suite, continuing the chat that harboured on nothing very much.
“I have to tell you Frank, this isn’t something I have done before. I’m not in the habit of going with a relative stranger into their room and, to be perfectly honest, don’t know what happens next.” Jean thought that she should be uncomfortable, should be ready for flight from the predicament, but she didn’t, she was quite taken by the ease she felt, was happily drinking a g and t with this beautiful man in his room, was perfectly comfortable in the knowledge that she would fuck him in a while and all this was just a prelude.
“Jean, if I thought for one second, that you were that type of woman, I can assure you, we would not be sitting here now.” His voice softened to a deep rumble, she liked it very much.
Jean got up from her chair and looked at him. Her hands found buttons and one by one, from the neck down, she undid them, leaving her white blouse open, but still tucked into her skirt. She kicked off her shoes and pushed them to one side with her foot. She reached around her back to undo the clasp and zipper of her short skirt, once released, it fell to the floor around her feet; she pulled her blouse off, laid it on the arm of the chair and stood facing him in her bra and panties. She felt no embarrassment at her near nakedness, but rather, bravery she could only dimly remember from her adolescence.
“Do I please you?” She asked coyly, hoping that he would say yes. Jean delighted in the sheer risk of what she was about, felt excitement at the prospect of fucking this stranger in his hotel room; she was experiencing something akin to euphoria at the lack of remorse and willingness to become almost sluttish for this one time.
“Yes you please me Jean, very much. You look beautiful standing there. I knew you had great legs, I could see them in the park, but the rest of you is just fabulous; you are beautiful.” His appraising look took in her whole body as she stood there before him, almost naked, one foot slightly in front of the other, knee bent across, her hands hanging limply by her sides, her shoulder length brown hair, shining in the sunlight streaming through the window, slightly mussed, partially screening the left side of her face, all in all, a wonderful stance, a picture of womanhood. He felt fortunate, grateful even, that she had consented to this liaison; had become a willing partner. He was well aware that this was possibly a first for her, probably, she had never strayed from her safe marriage, very likely had harboured deep seated thoughts of just such an occasion.
Frank stood to remove his clothes, but Jean came to him, took his hands and placed them at his sides. Looking up into his eyes with a steady gaze, she reached up and undid the top button of his shirt, then, with the same intense stare; she felt for and undid each in turn until they were all open. Her hands slipped under the loose flaps of cotton to run over his hairy chest, travelling outwards to brush over his nipples, then up to his shoulders to slip his shirt off. She had to undo the cufflinks so that it could be taken from him, this she did slowly, maintaining the eye contact all the while. When his shirt was draped over the arm of his chair, Jean again ran her hands over his chest, feeling and kneading, her fingers found his nipples and gently pinched them. It was an intense feeling and made him gasp softly.
She found the buckle of his belt, still staring intently into his eyes; she deftly flipped the buckle apart, and then manoeuvred the waistband button undone. Her eyes did not waiver one iota while she slipped the tab of his zipper down. His trousers fell into a crumpled heap around his ankles; he stepped out of them and kicked the discard aside. He stood, arms as she had arranged them, hanging loosely at his sides, in his boxers and socks.
Jean’s knees folded slowly, all the while, she kept her gaze into his eyes, her hand found the opening of his boxers, found his cock sheathed inside and pulled it out. She had knelt sufficiently enough now, that her face was below his cock, but her stare still held him in thrall. Slowly, as if with infinite care, she opened her mouth and took his head between her lips. His semi-harness was no problem to her; she sucked his length to the back of her mouth, working her tongue on the nerve centre at the base of his head. He thought it was the most erotic thing he had ever seen. The working of her tongue behind his cock head was almost painful in the pleasure it gave him, but the way she had managed to do this without once averting her stare, was a wonderful sight.
She withdrew him from the warmth of her mouth, licked around his head with the tip of her tongue and then slipped him back into her mouth to begin a rhythmic motion that took him slightly deeper with each bob of her mouth. She had almost all of him between her red lips; he could feel the back of her throat and tongue, working him deeper. The feeling it evoked in him was almost unbearable, but then she pulled him almost all the way out, then swiftly, sucked him back in until her lips met the base of his cock. He was deeper in her throat than he had ever been with any other woman and all the time, she had kept the eye contact, not even blinking, just a steady, determined examination of his face and the windows to his soul.
She worked him in her throat, feeling the girth of his cock expand as blood flowed to the call of his nerve endings. His length was manageable she thought, Jean was intent on swallowing him all the way down, she took it slowly, at her own pace, until she had his pubic hair tickling her nose. His heat and the slight musky sweat smell of his pubis were like an aphrodisiac to her. She did what she had always wanted to; get a man in his entirety into her mouth. Bill always came too quickly for her to be able to do it with him in the time it needed to achieve her goal; this man had a far better self control it seemed. She studied his eyes, watching for any tell tale signs that he was about to come. A corner of her mind noted the pleasure lines around his eyes and delighted in his reactions as she fucked him into her throat. Because she had been able to take it at her own pace, the gag reflex had been overcome, he was now all the way down her throat, that knowledge gave her a thrill that travelled up from her genitals to the top of her head in a wave of delicious pleasure that made her cunt leak it’s lubricants.
Frank took her face in one hand and pulled his cock from her mouth, the pleasure she was imparting would have him beyond the point of no return if he allowed her to continue. He cupped her chin as she kissed his head one more time, and lifted her up to a standing position. She continued to search his face with that steady gaze as he bent and lifted her into the crook of his arm. He carried her to the bed in the next room and gently laid her askance so that her feet hung over the side.
It was her turn to have him return the favour. Carefully he hooked the waist of her panties with his thumbs and, with her help, removed them to be left on the floor. She was not shaved he discovered, but certainly trimmed, her pubic hair was short, cut into a panty line. He could smell her aroma of lust, a heady concoction exuding from her organs, it served to heighten his need for her body. Frank knelt between her parted legs, supporting them behind the knees and descended towards his object of desire. His tongue flicked out, tasting immediately her readiness, brushing lightly against her hairy labia. She was intoxicating to him; he wanted nothing more than to plunge into her until he was spent, but he also wanted this experience to last for as long as he could, his self control took over.
His tongue tip worked between her lips, adding his saliva to her natural essence, questing for and then finding her clit. Lightly, he teased her nub with just the very tip of his pointed tongue, feeling her shiver and gasp as he increased the pressure and tempo of his attentions. Judging the time to be right, Frank sucked her clit into his mouth, gratified by her hardness, her taste and the sudden screech that issued from her mouth that seemed to be remote from his vantage point. Her knees jerked up, altering his angle somewhat and needing an adjustment from him. Finding the right position, Frank once again sucked her into his mouth, between his teeth and began to flick his tongue tip over the sensitive nub. Jean gasped and shivered her breathing rapid and shallow between clenched teeth. Without thought, her legs opened wider, as far apart as possible to allow him full access. The pleasure his mouth was giving her was electric, all consuming, an endless high that had her panting and coming in wave over wave of delirious, nerve jangling euphoria. The she did something that she had never managed before, the pleasure was so intense, and she came, in a torrent of amber fluid, coating his face in her warm excretion. She cried out at the total ecstasy of the moment and grasped his head in claw like hands to force him deeper into her cunt. He ignored her condition, just continued to punish her clit until she shuddered a second time, forcing him to swallow her come or let it dribble to soak his knees.
Jean could hardly breathe, the effort of automotive response and the intensity of her orgasm, confused her brain into making mistakes. Sensing her predicament, Frank withdrew from her clit, but only far enough to then bury his tongue into her wanting cunt. Slowly, he worked it building into a regular rhythm that allowed her to calm, before taking her to another, but different orgasm. The stimulation was quite different from that of her clit, but no less pleasurable. Fairly shortly, the pressure of another devastating climax built in her abdomen until it over spilled with a third flush of her come.
She was in no condition to continue for the moment and needed to rest. Frank lay beside her on the bed, crooking her head on his elbow, running his free hand over her breasts, marvelling at the hardness of her nipples and the smoothness of her alabaster like skin. He kissed her mouth and ran his tongue over her parted lips. They were dry from the incessant gasping of their sex. Wordlessly, Frank extricated himself from under her head, got up from the bed and fetched a glass of water from the mini-bar. He offered the glass to Jean who took it gratefully and gulped a mouthful then licked her lips.
He clambered back onto the bed as she reached across to put the glass on the side table. Her back was turned to him; he noticed the freckles across her shoulders, the muscles under her taught skin. He traced a finger over the humps of her backbone and watched the shiver it produced. He pushed her gently a little more so that she was lying completely on her side. He caressed her back, his hands travelling over her smooth, cool skin to her hips, then back to the nape of her neck. Unhurriedly, he shuffled across the bed so that his cock rested in the cleft of her buttocks. His arm slipped under her neck while his other hand reached around and found her nipples. His hardness restored, Frank slipped his cock between her buttocks as she bent at the waist to fit against him in a foetal position.
He eased her cheeks apart until his cock was positioned, then with a deliberately slow pelvic thrust; he pushed his cock head into her cunt and was rewarded with a wriggle of her hips to help him. Frank fucked her laying side wise slowly, while Jean pushed back on him, helping to make his thrusting reach deeper into her body. It was an easy rhythm, comfortable, something they could both keep up without it bringing them too close to orgasm. He stroked her hair, shoulders and back as his cock thrust into her, he marvelled at her beauty, at the smoothness of her flawless skin, at the litheness of her body.
Easily, he flipped her over so that, they remained in coitus, she lay with her back on his chest, her legs parted to either side of his. It allowed Frank to explore her stomach, her breasts and then a finger against her clit. At this touch, the comfortable rhythm increased to a wild rut she approached a rapid climax. Frank reached around to find one of her hands. He grasped her left hand and guided it to her soaked sex. Dexterously, he manipulated one of her fingers out and positioned the pad of it on her clit. With little encouragement, Jean rubbed and pinched her self while he continued to tease her nipples and fuck her from behind.
In a manner, Jean felt trapped, lying prostrate on top of him with her back on his chest, her legs, uselessly parted on either side of him; impaled on his thrusting cock. Her own fingers teasing her clit, the arm attached trapped by his arm as it encircled her. Her breasts at the mercy of his kneading hands and pinching fingers, her head resting against his cheek; the trapped feeling added to her enjoyment, she was aware of the now, familiar feeling of pressure of another devastating orgasm. She worked her clit harder, rubbing as hard and fast as she dared, all the time, feeling the onrush of her climax.
It hit her suddenly, the sudden confounding of nerves, the rush from her body of her come, the inability to control her arms and legs as the totally encompassing feeling washed over her. Her knees drew up to her chest, forcing Frank from her body as a stream of golden come squirted from her body in a parabolic arc to splash on the floor.
Jean settled in diminishing shudders while Frank stroked her shoulders. She wanted him to come, she wanted him to complete as she had so many times over the last few hours, and she determined that she would take him to completion in her mouth. Decision made and control of her limbs regained, Jean twisted around, kissed Frank on his lips then wriggled down the bed to engulf his wonderful cock.
It was her intention that he would come in her throat as deep as he had been before, but she knew that having him so deep could only be a fairly short thing before the need to breathe took over, so she grasped him in her hand and slowly began to work him. If she could get him close and then swallow him, she might, if she timed it right, get her reward.
Jean knelt alongside him, studying his rigid cock as she pumped him in her hand. She hadn’t realised just how big he was perhaps ten inches or so, more than she had thought. Frank moaned; he was getting closer; his cock was rock hard in her hand. Judging the time to be right, Jean bent at the waist and licked the pre-come from his slit. It was slightly salty to taste. Then she parted her lips and sucked his head between her teeth while her hand continued to pump him. She slowly sunk onto his hardness, allowing him to enter her little by little, she formed an ‘O’ with thumb and forefinger so that she could still work him while most of his cock was now in her mouth. Frank mini-thrust, not wanting to drive himself too deeply into her and spoil the magic she was performing. Jean sensed his need, knowing that it was the precursor to his climax, she stopped wanking him, instead; she slipped him from her mouth, then sucked him deep into her, lifted a little then descended to allow more of him to enter her mouth, taking him deeper and deeper. Jean took a deep breath and with only a few more of these mouth fucks, she had him completely down her throat, pleased that she had taken the time to do it at her pace, his cock was twitching violently. Jean fucked him into her throat, his pubic hair rammed against her nose. With a few more bobs of her head, she felt his first spurt of come hit the back of her throat. Now she thought, and buried him all the way into her. His seed spurted in long spasms as she kept him as deep as his length would allow; Frank yelled and screeched as his cock exploded it’s spend into Jean.
They lay entwined and slept the sleep of the sated for an hour. Jean woke first, found the shower and cleaned herself of the stink of sex. She felt totally satisfied, felt absolutely no remorse, no guilt, even pleased with her self. She dried and then dressed slowly, touching herself as she did so, relishing the delicious thrill of the memory of what she and Frank had done. Jean had never had such an all consuming climax before; having several in the same day was just fantastic, beyond belief.
Frank woke as Jean emerged from the bathroom.
“Thank you Jean; you are a remarkable woman; I can honestly say that was the best I have ever enjoyed.” The sincerity of his words was echoed in his eyes that took her in all over again.
“No thank you Frank. I have never known sex could be like that, have never felt so switched on. It is me who should be thanking you.” She walked over to the bedside and kissed him goodbye.
“Goodbye Frank. Thank you.” With that, she picked up her bag and slipped out of the hotel room to return to her life that was going to be very different now. She had a ticket in the windscreen of her car, but it didn’t matter, pretty soon, she would pay her own parking fines.
A day in a life
5/
5
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