"Forty Plus & Freckled" Part 4

Subtitled: "The Impossible Day"
by Julius
copyright 2004
(Quite a jump from the setting of the first three parts. I'm not happy with this last part of the story, it doesn't "belong" somehow. I'm inclined to delete it but .... what the heck, I'll leave it in. What do you think dear reader?)





Dave wasn't sure he'd make it.

He and Angie had been together now for just eight weeks. Theirs seemed a pairing made in heaven, no matter the age difference. They were insatiable. Endless play and endless discovery, seemed to stem from their innocent curiosity. When they weren't loving, they seemed to find each other perfect company.

The job which had landed them in this luxury suite, had come about in the strangest way. A friend of Angie's on the library staff, had handed her a magazine during a morning coffee break. "FamilyGuidance Clinic Seeks Couples," read the ad.

"Just the thing for you and Dave," Maureen had said. Maureen had been following Angie's new relationship closely. She tried not to be jealous of her friend's bright eyed happiness. But she did envy her this sudden joy.

"Doesn't Dave have any brothers or an available father perhaps," she'd joked one day.

Angie took the magazine and read.

"Sounds a bit too good to be true. It's a paid honeymoon, an outrageously overpaid honeymoon. But wouldn't it be a hoot. Pity Dave's so shy," Angie had rambled as her imagination raced.

"Why not phone them? There's a toll free number." Maureen wasn't serious of course, neither was Angie. But she'd phoned anyway.




There'd been endless questionnaires and interviews followed by medical examinations and screen tests. Incredibly, they'd been the ones chosen.


A five star Miami hotel overlooking the Atlantic was their home for nearly week. A penthouse suite; neither had really known what a penthouse suite was until then. Nothing to do but have sex and plan what to do with the money. Money! Money already in the bank, money to come when/if they completed the assignment. And more money, if the movie sold as well as promised.


After the required three sexless days they were hungry for each other, very hungry. Minutes ago Angie had appeared in his room and slipped into bed beside him.

This was to be the pre-breakfast 'quickie' the schedule called for. There was no script, the sound engineers would handle that. Editing and dubbing would all come later.

Angie wore a pink baby-doll outfit. Dave wore nothing, his rigid erection would have looked ridiculous any way but naked.

Dave's problem would be controlling his appetite for Angie. Knowing that this was the point of the exercise, helped him not at all.

All they had to do was play for a day. It all sounded easy enough. The film was to be used by marriage councillors. The point of the exercise was to educate couples. To show that a woman's enjoyment of sex could also be a source of intense pleasure for the man.

Dave had been surprised to find how much he agreed with the concept. It had been that obviously sincere agreement that had probably decided the selection panel.

The message was all about unselfishness, male unselfishness. Angie and Dave were to make love for a day and show that such unselfishness could be pleasurable for the man.

It promised to be a delight for Angie, and a trial for Dave. Dave's only climax was to be the film's climax. As he felt Angie's warmth beside him, he was no longer sure he could manage it.

They lay facing each other, each wore a mask. The lenses of six remote cameras stared at them from around the room. Dave thought her mask rather attractive. It was gold, with up-swept corners that gave her a catlike air. His was a simple black thing. Angie suggested he looked like the Lone Ranger, or maybe Zorro. At least the library staff wouldn't recognise her. Anonymity, surely nobody would perform like this without it?

Angie undid the bow at her throat and bared her left breast. It lay heavy against her arm, its nipple pale pink and almost flat. He moved his face nearer to her, smelling the newness of the fabric and the familiar scent of her favourite talc. His cock couldn't get any harder surely?

She sighed as his lips kissed, then sucked at her nipple. How Dave loved Angie's nipples, the way they swelled at his touch. His teeth closed slowly, nipping her to the brink of pain. He moved his head back, pulling at her, pulling her breast from soft globe to sharp point. She gasped. He groaned, wanting desperately to press his cock against her knee, to hump against something.

He released the the nipple, it was now a plump raspberry that seemed to glow with its own inner light. He knew she'd be moistening now, buttery slick if he touched her. She moved slightly towards him, offering the other breast.

He took it in his hands, cupping, moulding it into a perfect sphere. The nipple, already swelling, begged for suckling but he lingered, fondling her breast. The skin was the softest on her body. Sometimes Dave thought he could happily drown in the softness of her breasts. He still hadn't counted her freckles.

His arousal was awful now. His cock seemed to strain in its skin. All he wanted was to get it between her breasts and just blissfully, desperately, fuck them. Her words cut into his thoughts. "Make me come Dave, suckle at me."

He kissed the nipple and drew it into his mouth and Angie moaned. Her whole body seemed to sigh and her hands went behind his head.Dave strove for the impossible, to cram her whole breast into his mouth. He opened his jaws wide and sucked in nipple and areola and as much breast flesh as he could. Sucking and swallowing he worked her nipple with his tongue and she began to writhe on the bed.

Dave moved his head away, allowing breast and nipple to be drawn from his mouth. The nipple slipped out with a loud kissing sound. It was engorged now, swollen and long, wet with his saliva and gone from pale pink to rich red. He took it between his teeth and bit her gently. She gasped and thrust her hips at him.

He suckled her, hungrily, drawing her on and on. She made little purring noises in her throat as he made love to her breast. Then her orgasm began and she shuddered helplessly as it swept through her. He clungto her with his mouth as she squirmed and writhed against him.

Her climax passed its peak and she moved, offering her other nipple. "More?" he asked knowing she'd say yes, she always did.

"Yes, again, again," she teased the nipple against his mouth and he took it hungrily and began nursing. Dave's hands moved too, fingers and thumbs working, massaging her wonderful softness.

She was so very aroused. His mouth at her nipple, his strong hands tormenting her breasts soon had her climbing again.

They were both breathing hard, their hearts racing. Angie's head was thrown back, one white-knuckled fist gripped the pillow, her other hand had gone down to comfort her pussy. She was making nearly-silent screams as her body took over.

She came and so very, very nearly did Dave. Can a man come without being touched? He'd always thought not, but now? His face was against a freckled dream. His mouth was full of her nipple. His brain was sending messages to him and his cock, telling him to put it in somewhere, against something and to just fuck.

He wanted that cock anywhere but twitching and waving inches above the bed sheet. In her hand, between the lovely breasts or plunged in the heat between her thighs. Oh God, he screamed in silence, let me put it in her.

She flung herself over on her back, chest heaving, nipples jutting, the left one glistening wet, from his mouth.

Then she spoke, "Dave?"

He looked at her, she'd pushed her breasts together and rolled them inwards, bringing the nipples almost touching. "Dave, kiss them both, suck them both."

He couldn't. His cock ached and throbbed. He looked down, it had a tight skinned shine to it. It must surely split if it were teased any more.

He tried to tell her. She seemed to understood, as she always did. Her hand reached out and touched his cheek. "It's OK, just being greedy," she smiled, and gazed longingly at his erection.

They lay for a while, close together and silent.

Finally she sighed, "How about we go find the dining room and get some breakfast?"



Angie slipped away to her room. Dave's cock finally softened and he got up for a pee. After he'd finished, he stood looking in the mirror, not really believing what had happened to them, to him.

Having finished their breast play they were required to make an appearance in the dining room. "A photo-op," the director had explained.

Dave wandered into the bedroom and looked at the rumpled bed. Glancing at a camera he grinned and said, "We're doing pretty good so far, I think."

The schedule on the clipboard gave him dressing instructions. His stomach rumbled.








They breakfasted in the hotel dining room. Dave spotted two more cameras. They were discretely placed with their cables leading off to the recording room where the miles of film were being produced. He pointed to the one focused on Angie. She picked up a sausage and did a wonderful mime of fellating it for the camera's benefit.



A walk on the beach was required. Somehow they had seemingly miles of deserted sands. They had a camera man for company, actually a camerawoman, who gave Dave's pouched genitals a lot of footage. Angie wore a thong bikini. The bra made her wonderful breasts look even more impressive. The thong? Dave thought her ass the loveliest in the world.

"You look exquisite," he told her quietly.

"Thank you. I feel naked and very,very self conscious," she said. "I've never worn a thong before in public."

The cameragirl called, "Would you guys kiss for the camera?"

They did and Angie's tongue speared into his mouth. His cock reared erect and he looked at the camera. Sure enough it was capturing his arousal.

"I want to go home to play," murmured Angie.

"I badly need to fuck you," Dave told her.

She moved away and looked down at his cock's big outline up the front of his thong. "I need you too. Do you think we can manage to get through today?"

"I don't know. Back there in bed this morning I thought I was going to lose my mind, I wanted you so much."

"It's not fair is it? I can just keep coming," she grinned, "it's lovely for me but, oh poor you. My poor sweet Dave."

They walked on, hand in hand, small waves playing around their ankles. He kept looking across at the freckled spill of her breasts. His erection showed no signs of subsiding. The girl with the camera coughed and looked at her watch.

"Time to head back, I guess," said Angie.

Back in their suite things had been moved around in anticipation of their next scene.

They sat side by side on the sofa. On the floor was a camera, which pointed up at them. Two more were sited on either side of the sofa. Angie blew kisses to all three. "I can't wait to see the end product of all this," she said to Dave.

They were dressed just as they had been on the beach and Angie was aware of the sexual tension between them. She was looking forward to this. She'd been looking forward to every aspect of this day.

Angie took Dave's hand and rested it on her belly and guided it down until it cupped her mound. She gave ita squeeze and Dave massaged her slowly, gently. She tensed her buttocks lifting her hips under Dave hand, her message to him.

She closed her eyes, loving his touch. He slowly worked the edges of the thong's small triangle closer together, working it between her lips. Soon, it was all but invisible, seeming to plunge into her, into the centre of her bush. Angie loved the feeling of invasion. She slid her ass towards the edge of the leather sofa, dragging the thong ever tighter, deeper. She was being cut in half and she loved it. "Yessss!"she ground out through clenched teeth.

Dave began slowly dragging the nail of his index finger up from her perineum, up to the waist band of her thong. "Scratch your itch baby?" he whispered. She looked down, watching his finger as he drew it up a second time. The scrape of nail on fabric buzzed inside her. Every time he did it she growled,and got more turned on. Was he scratching her itch, or causing it? Whatever, she loved it.

Dave squirmed off the sofa and knelt in front ofAngie. He hooked his fingers under the sides of the thong and peeled it slowly down. Angie wanted to be free of its torture and wanted it still its invasion. She wanted both. Dave kept pulling it down and Angie moaned as it came out her. She squealed as she lost a few pussy hairs. He slipped the thong down her legs and off. He got up and sat beside her again.

Dave put a finger under her chin and made to turn her face towards him to kiss her. Angie grabbed the hand and forced it down, down to her crotch. Angie, was on fire again.

His fingers found slippery wetness down the centre of her bush. He cupped his hand and pressed it over her mound. Angie spread her legs wide and Dave slipped his fingers down to lie in the wet length of her cleft. She closed her thighs over his hand and gave a long sigh.

It seemed the most natural thing. His finger slipped into her. He loved this moment, the first feel of her heat. She was cream and butter. She was honey and syrup. She was molten. She was softness.

He was lost.

Her hips lifted and Dave felt her vagina's walls give that sweet, welcoming clench that always met his fingers or his cock. He didn't have the same screaminglonging of the earlier session yet. But that squeeze from her pussy had him wanting her desperately, again.

Angie's head had gone back against the sofa's back and her hands were brushing over her breasts. Through the bra Dave could see her eager nipples quite plainly.

His finger came out of her and traced her labia, seeking, seeking. She sobbed as he found her clit. The juice-slick tip of his finger began exploring her, circling the little swollen button that was her centre. Suddenly it pulsed like a heart beat andsomething deep inside him seemed to respond. The feel of that slow throb against his fingertip sent some special message deep into him. At that moment, pleasuring her was all that mattered. He wanted fingers and tongue and lips and cock to be there, all at once. Impossible and the impossibility hurt.

Love and lust fused at that moment and he was her slave. He slid three fingers into her. It was so easy, she seemed to be flooding. Angie writhed on the fingers, impaled. Her own fingers dug into her breasts and she gave a long sobbing sigh and sweetly, almost easily, she came. Thighs clamped around his fingers, keeping him inside.

Slowly he slid his fingers out of her. Half his cock was out over the top of his thong. His arousal had risen with hers. Precum glistened, and again Dave was desperate for her. His eye caught the glint of thecamera lens and he almost sobbed at the realisation that he couldn't have her, not yet, not yet.

He took his hand away from her and her eyes opened. She watched him bring his hand to his mouth and suck the three fingers in, tasting her sweetness. She grabbed at his hand yet again and led it to her pussy. He knew just what she wanted, and let his finger find her pretty clit again.

"Yes," she whispered, "again, again."

He brought her to her brink again, teasing, listening to the music of her voice as she mouthed little cries. Her heartbeat seemed to echo in her clit as he caressed it. No matter how gentle he was, she seemed to respond. Her sensitivity amazed him. This was the centre of the universe and he was there.

He took her over the edge twice more. She was fighting for breath and glistening with sweat when finally she begged him to stop. She curled up on the sofa beside him. Suddenly his erection didn't seem to matter. She was crying with joy, and when Angie reached thismoment, there was enough happiness for both of them..... fucking could wait a little longer.

Fucking would have to wait a lot longer ....... he would wait.

"Forty Plus & Freckled" Part 3

by Julius
copyright 2004





With their passions cooled a little, Dave picked up her list. "I'll take a look at some of these."

"Okay, but first the little girl's room for me," Angie said.


Dave watched her walk away and wondered what she saw wrong with putting that ass in a bikini. He grinned and reached for his coveralls.

When she came back Angie said, "Know anything about spin driers?" She was disappointed to see him covered up again.

"A little," he said.

"Mine doesn't spin."

"Let's take a look then."

In the basement he opened the drier and reached in, spun the drum and said, "Belt's likely broken. Nowhere open today to get a new one. Five bucks'll fix that I imagine."


He cocked his head and said, "What's dripping?"

Round the corner, beside the furnace, stood a bucket, almost full. Water dripped from a pipe above. "Damn, it's got worse, used to take a week to fill the bucket."

"Well it isn't going to get any better, maybe I should fix that today."

"Today? You're sure?" she asked, thinking more about leaking cocks than a leaking pipe.

"A little heat and a drop of solder should do it. Guess I'll have to drain the pipe though."

"Can I help?" she asked, wanting to stay around him.

"Spare coveralls in the truck," he said, "you can pass me stuff. Besides I'll likely need a third hand."





He came back with an overloaded tool tray and a pair of coveralls. He passed them to her and said, "Forgot the flashlight." He headed back up the stairs.

Angie stripped off the bikini and struggled naked into the coveralls. She popped the bikini into the drier, out of sight. The coveralls were far, far too big and she was rolling up the legs when he returned.

"You look the perfect workman," he said with a grin.

She wasn't sure. They fit like a sack and she began rolling up the sleeves to free her hands. Another slight problem; every move she made had her nipples rubbing against the rough fabric. The more they rubbed the more sensitive they became. Too much of this and she'd go mad. It was an almost cruel torment. Her arousal fed off it.

Dave found the stop valve and asked her to turn on all the taps upstairs. "Need to get the water out of the system." He started rummaging through his tools.

By the time Angie returned to the basement she was carefully holding the coveralls away from her breasts. She longed to unzip the front and stop the delicious torture of her nipples. She looked at Dave's back and was actually reaching for the zipper, when he turned.

"Could you hold this up there for me while I cut the pipe?" He handed her a plastic bucket.

Angie crossed to the stairs and came back with a plastic two-step stool. She climbed up, and held up the bucket.

Dave slipped the tube cutter over the pipe and began turning. They were very close, his face level with her breasts. "You suit dark blue," he told her quietly.

She giggled, "Just something casual I slipped into. "Their intimacy had returned.

Water began dribbling into the bucket, and then became a stream. He moved and stood behind her, and rested his hands on her hips. "I like coveralls in the summer, loose and roomy. Cooler than they look." His hands moved. "Big slits here so you can reach into your pants' pockets." His hands slid in and up, onto her bare hips. "Ah!" he said finding her naked.

Angie tipped her head back and closed her eyes. His hands slid up the soft flesh over her ribs. Her bralessness produced another "Ah!" from Dave.

His fingertips were in the soft moistness of her armpits. She shivered; glad she'd shaved them the night before. When Dave's fingers slid over the sides of her breasts, she thought her legs would fold. Her mouth opened and she began panting gently. He granted her silent wish, and moved his fingertips to her nipples.

It was his turn to gasp as he found them, big and hard and begging for attention. His forefingers and thumbs took them. He rolled them, twisted them gently. Her thighs tensed, the muscles trembling.

When he released them, she gave a little sob at the loss. His big hands cupped her breasts then, lifting, weighing. How she'd longed for gentle touching like this, by hands other than her own.

Angie sighed as his hands moved down to her waist.

There was a glugging sound, somewhere above them. Water poured from the open pipe, missing the bucket, down over her front. Seemingly freezing cold, it ran over the coveralls, soaking into the cotton, from her throat, down over her belly.

She half gasped, half squealed, "Oh God! It's cold!"

"Well, you must have let the bucket move," he was laughing.

"You grabbed my tits."

"You have grabable tits."

A further trickle of water came, but she caught this with the bucket.

"My arms ache, this is like a scene from one of those bondage movies."

"Fancy being tied up in a dark basement, do you?" he asked her.

There was more in his voice than just banter. she thought.

"I think I might like that," she said, knowing she would indeed like it. A cold trickle of fear stirred in her belly at the thought. There was heat there too, and suddenly, it was exactly what she wanted.

"Well, I could staple you to the beams," he said, and added hurriedly, "staple the sleeves, not you."

Dave reached into the tool tray and rummaged about. He held up a staple gun, big and shiny. "Well?" Just the one questioning word.

She swallowed and looked into his eyes, and nodded.


He took the bucket from her and hung it over the pipe. The staples going in sounded as loud as gunshots, as he fired maybe half a dozen through each of the rolled cuffs, into the beam over her head.

Dave moved around to stand in front of her. He reachedfor her zipper and slowly eased it down. So very slowly, little more than a tooth at a time. The coveralls opened, and the swells of her breasts appeared. He kept sliding the zipper down, until he was just past her belly button.

Angie was trembling. Was it cool basement air on her bare skin or her helplessness? She didn't know. The tendons of her thighs kept tensing and there was a wonderful, scary heat writhing through her insides. And she felt horny. Above all else, she felt horny.

"Do you have a hair drier?" he asked.

"In the bathroom. Why?"

Alone for the moment, listening to him move around upstairs, she wondered. She glanced down and felt a chill. The propane torch with its blue cylinder and heat discoloured nozzle, stood on the concrete. She was suddenly too vulnerable. She gave a tug at her left wrist, nothing yielded. She tugged again and the staples held, no sign of loosening. Panic coiled in her belly.

Dave came down the stairs. He crossed the basement and plugged the drier into the socket above the washer. He came to stand in front of her, "Reaches just fine."


Angie swallowed and waited. Dave hung the drier on a nail. "Wonder if all the water's gone?" He took thebucket from the pipe and tapped the end. As if he controlled such things, a little gulp sounded, and a sudden stream poured out.

Angie squealed as the cold water flooded across her chest, into the coveralls, down over her belly, over her pussy and down her legs. God but it was cold. She called him a bastard, and he laughed. "That's what the hair drier's for."

He reached out and gently peeled open the right side of the coveralls. Her breast, heavy and full, was tipped by its swollen red nipple. Her skin was cold to his touch. He reached for the drier, switched it on and began playing warm air over her breast.

Angie crooned softly. The rush of warmth over her cold breast was heaven. Then he touched her. Gentle fingers caressing, following the soft curves of her flesh. The flow of warm air followed his hand. Oh Lord, she could take this forever.

She was at the perfect height. Her nipple, his mouth. She begged silently for him to kiss her, suck her. He did! She gasped as his lips took the nipple and pulled. He lost his grip and she smiled at the loud kiss his mouth made. Then he was back, his teeth this time, nipping and nibbling just shy of pain. She brought her legs together, trying and failing to satisfy her pussy's need to be touched. Angie moaned and thrust forward with her hips, trying to touch him, needing to touch him.

The drier clicked off. She felt him open the coveralls wide. Now both her breasts were exposed. "They are beautiful," he said.

"They're too big and they sag and I don't think they're beautiful at all," she said.

He looked at her and smiled. His palms playing over her breasts, barely touching the skin, maddeningly avoiding her nipples. "Oh they're big, but they're beautiful and I love them." With that he put his face between them, and, with his hands, pressed a breast against each cheek.

Angie loved it. He said the right things, did the right things. Her arousal had taken away any fears she'd felt earlier. She didn't care what he did, just so long as he did more.

He turned the drier on again. A bliss-filled interlude followed, as warm hand and warm air made love to her breasts. She couldn't believe the sensitivity of her breasts, her out thrusting nipples. Oh, this man was wonderful; she wanted him to go on forever.

But her helplessness was a torment, despite her boobs being in heaven. She needed to get a hand to her pussy; she needed to squirm her ass, to press against something. She knew she was wet and getting wetter. She wanted, needed, to touch herself.



Her breasts were incredible. The softness of her defied belief. Her skin was warm now, and he ran his hand over her nipple, dragging it with his skin, side to side, round and round. It tickled his palm incredibly, and she squirmed under his teasing. She made little sobbing noises.

Poor Dave, he was wondering what to do with this lovely creature. He knew she was loving the teasing and pleasing, but his own arousal was becoming an awful thing. He moved lower and began running his hand and the warm air over her belly.

The cloth of the coveralls was coarse against his cockhead. He hung the drier up on the nail, unzipped his coveralls and struggled to get them off his shoulders.

She opened her eyes at the sound of his zipper and he saw her watching him. As the coveralls fell and his briefs slid down his legs, the expression on her face shocked him. She looked hungry. She licked her lips and he saw her lift a foot and begin rubbing one thigh with the other. He looked down. His cock stood erect, pointing straight up at her. "I think he likes you," he said.

"I love him," she said softly, her voice husky.

He slid the zipper of her coveralls all the way down this time. No yellow bikini hiding her delights now. The bush he'd trimmed earlier was a dark mass of curls that glistened with water droplets. He reached out and stroked her fur with his fingertips. She drew her breath in through her teeth. She thrust out with her hips, the gesture almost lewd. The firmness of her mound surprised him.

Another spell of drying followed as he fluffed her curls with his fingers and dried her. His touch and the warmth of the blown air were too delicious to bear. Every nerve in her body longed for him.

Dave switched off, and hung up the drier.

He cupped her sex in his hand, and gently massaged her. His fingers opened her. Almost by accident it seemed, a finger slipped into her and she gasped, a sudden intake of breath.

She was hot inside. She felt like melted butter. Her thighs tensed and squeezed his hand so tight, that it almost hurt.

Dave moved his other hand inside the gaping coveralls and slid it around her to grip her buttock. He rested his cheek between her breasts and stood silentlyclinging to her. She clenched his finger with her pussy, and she felt his body stiffen at the movement. She did it again, and he looked up at her. "She likes you." Again she made herself grip him, to let him know what she meant. He slid a second finger into her, and something inside Angie let go.

Suddenly she was struggling like a fish on a hook. Desperate to get free, she pulled and jerked with her hands. Her left hand came free, and then her right.

She seemed to have gone mad in his arms. He looked up, almost scared by her agitation. He tried to ask her what was the matter.

Then his arms were empty and Angie was fighting herway out of the coveralls.

She grabbed his hand. "Come on you, fuck me, before I lose my mind!"

Somehow, Dave got one foot free and moved in her wake, still trailing briefs and coveralls from the other ankle. At the bottom of the stairs she stopped and leaned forward, hands resting on a step, her ass outhrust. "Just fuck me, goddammit ... we can play more later."

Dave moved close behind her, his hands went to her hips. She wiggled her ass at him. Her back was hollowed, feet spread apart. This was a wordless plea, an unmistakable demand by her body.

Dave plunged his cock into her. He had to. She actually screamed and Dave froze, afraid he'd hurt her but Angie thrust herself back at him and said, "Keep fucking lover!"

She came twenty heartbeats later, her vagina walls clenching, trying to milk Dave's cock. Knowing he'd not come, she begged him to be still, desperate for more; terrified he'd spend himself too soon.

Dave was almost happy to pause, to crouch over her. He'd never had a girl from behind and the sensations were too incredible. The hand job she given him earlier, left him with some control and he let his arms go around her. Her jostling breasts more than filled his hands, soft and heavy, the nipples seeming even bigger and harder.

She squirmed her ass against him, moving his rigidity deep inside her. She didn't speak, she didn't need to. Dave knew. He straightened and grabbed her hips again and withdrew from the slick tightness of her tunnel. When just the head remained in her, he thrust hard. His thigh tops slapped loudly against her ass and Angie said, "Yessssss!" Just the one word.

He looked down, watching as he fucked her. Saw the cute brown pucker of her anus. Watched her pussy seemingly turning inside out as he withdrew, then the pink of her lining pulling back in as his cock reentered.

Then he stopped looking, and closed his eyes and fell into that blissful rhythm.

She came twice more, while Dave fought for breath, fought for climax. In the warm damp of the basement, they sweated. Sweat dripped from Dave's face onto Angie's back and buttocks. Sweat ran from Angie'sarmpits, down her breasts and her swirling nipples flung droplets onto the steps.

She sensed his orgasm's approach and her body readied its own reponses. Angie was no longer in control of herself.

Dave could have sworn she was trying to escape his cock, as she bucked and twisted. He clung to her and followed her every squirm and struggle, with his own desperate thrusting.

They came, sobbing, moaning, saying wicked and beautiful things, making no sense at all. Dave seemed to come forever and Angie's pussy clenched and spasmed, suckling him insatiably.

Finally, finally she dropped to her knees on the bottom step, pulling herself off Dave's cock. She hadn't the strength to hold herself up any longer. Dave half knelt, half squatted on the cold concrete, his arms wrapped around her thighs. He sobbed for breath.

Angie rested her head on her forearms, nipples almost touching the step, as her chest heaved and her heart hammered in her ears. Cool air rolled down from upstairs and she could feel the wet trickle down the inside of her left thigh, as her pussy gently wept the mingle of their juices.

"David?"

"Yes."

"Stay with me tonight."

"Forty-plus & Freckled" Part 2

by Julius
copyright 2004







The house seemed suddenly very empty. God, but she did like the guy. Why was he so young, why hadn’t she just come on to him when he was leaving? Because she’d been terrified of scaring him off, that’s why. But oh! Standing at the sink with him gazing up her skirt, and she knew he’d been gazing up her skirt. That lovely erection plain to see under his coveralls. She’d wanted him so badly then. Damn, damn, damn.



Dave drove off and the rest of his day was spent cleaning the truck, sorting his tools, ordering materials, and doing paperwork. But images of Angie seemed to intrude all the time. Angie stirring her coffee, Angie’s dress tight across her breasts, the view up Angie’s skirt, her hand on his arm when she opened the door for him. She’d really got to him.




Eight o’clock on the dot, the doorbell rang. This man doesn’t lie abed in the morning, Angie thought as she went to the door, still in her bathrobe.

Coveralls again, but they were clean and oh, that wonderful grin. She wondered if he had any idea what that grin did to her.

“I thought I’d unblock the eaves troughs and maybe replace the missing shingles before the sun gets too hot.” he announced.

“Didn’t know any were missing,” she said. “So I can’t offer you breakfast?”

“Noticed ’em yesterday and no thanks to breakfast, but coffee would be fine.”

Angie made the coffee. She climbed the ladder in her bathrobe with his coffee in one hand. She peered over the eaves troughing, there he was up on the ridge, hammer in hand. She called to him. Smiling he got to his feet and walked easily down the roof to her. “Thank you ma’am.”

He squatted above her, sipping. They agreed it was a glorious day. She gazed at the contours of his cotton-covered crotch while he looked down into the gaping terrycloth, at the swells of her breasts.

Angie felt her body heat beginning to notch up. The fucked-up hormonal fifties she wondered, or the hots for this young man? The latter she was sure, she felt her pussy purring.

“Be careful climbing down,” he cautioned, wishing he was on the ladder below her to help. He wondered how she’d feel through the robe. His cock stiffened painfully in his coveralls.

Her decision to wear a bikini was a brave one. Was she too old for bikinis? Would she ever get into it? It was a couple of summers at least since she wiggled and squirmed into it. Why not wear it? Sit in the sun and read while the workman fixed this and that? Drink a cool drink and, and, get herself laid? The last was her real reason she knew. She was unashamedly after this young guy. If he turned her down all she had to do was sulk a little. She picked the bra up off the bed. If he didn’t scratch her itch for her there was always her electric lover. She pulled open the drawer in the bedside table and looked at it and her pussy gave a little clench. Oh Dave! Don’t turn me down.

She got her breasts into the top with only a modest struggle. The cleavage and the freckles looked just fine. She stood in front of the mirror and postured a little. Angie, you look great. Next the bottom piece.Well, she got into that but there was an inch or two more of Angie in the ass department than she remembered. She turned and looked in the mirror. Oh no! It was forever since she'd trimmed her bush and it looked awful, fluffing out on either side. Hell! She glanced at the clock, no time to give herself a haircut. Shrugging she fished her old cut-off denim shorts out of the drawer and wriggled into them. They were indecently brief too, but at least they covered the fur.

She set up the lounger and stretched herself out in the sun. Not too hot yet, she needed to rub suntan lotion on but that could wait. Maybe … yes, maybe Dave would do it for her.

She must have dozed. She woke to find him looking down at her, his shadow across her face. “You’re going to burn if you stay out here too long.”

“What time is?” she asked him, barely awake.

“Midday, maybe ten after twelve.”

“Oh dear, must have slipped away. Would you like some lunch?” she asked.

“I certainly would if that’s okay.”

“Why don’t you have a shower while I make us some food?”







He wished more jobs were like this. Coffee break and lunch and a shower. She’d slept while he worked and he’d looked at her often. She had the loveliest breasts and red hair and good legs. Hard to guess her age. Forties? Fifties? Who cared, she was something else to look at. His cock stiffened and he wished it wouldn’t. He’d love to fuck her but had a feeling she’d tell him to get lost if he made a move. But she was being pretty friendly, and the sunbathing like that had surprised him. His trouble, Dave knew, was his lack of experience.




They ate in the kitchen. French bread, strong cheese and pickled onions. She said it was called a ploughman’s lunch. She got two beers from the fridge. They drank from the bottles, Dave couldn’t remember enjoying a meal so much, not ever.

She pushed her chair back, “Let’s go drink our beer in the sun.”

He looked at her reddened breasts and arms, “If you’re going out in the sun maybe you should put something on, you’re going to be sore tomorrow.”

“I’ll get some lotion.”

Out on the deck she handed him the bottle. “Would you,” she asked, “and you’re right, us redheads do burn easily.”

Poor Dave. He clumsily applied the lotion to her arms but then paused. She cupped her hands under her breasts and lifted them slightly, the message couldn’t be plainer. Dave gulped audibly and squeezed lotion onto his fingertips and touched them to her breast. Her softness was incredible! His cock reared erect inside his coveralls. God she was so soft.

Angie watched his face. His expression delighted her. His surprise at being able to touch her and the look of wonderment as his fingertips caressed her softness. Her delight turned to hunger as his touch made her nipples move in the bra, against the fabric. Her thighs tensed and she closed her eyes. She’d done it, she'd made the first move and she thought that maybe he was hers.

“How does it feel?” she asked him. Her heart seemed to be hammering in her throat.

“Soft, wonderfully soft, like a bird’s feathers,” he blushed furiously.


“What a beautiful thing to say.” Her eyes came up and captured his. The hunger in his eyes was wonderful. She turned over so he could do her shoulders and back.

The shorts were a treat, frayed and patched and faded and ridiculously short. Her ass cheeks peeped out from under the fabric. He loved that ass.

He moved closer, his trapped erection inches from the curves of her buttocks. His cock ached, Dave wanted her very badly. He began applying lotion to her shoulders.

When he’d done her back she took the suntan oil from him and said, “Why don’t you get out of those heavy coveralls for a while?”

Embarrassed he said, “I can’t, I’ve nothing much on underneath, just underwear.”


“Don’t worry none of the neighbors can see us on the deck.”

“No, but you …” he made a helpless gesture with his hands.

“How about I promise not to look?” she feigned surprise that he might think anything else.

He shrugged and slid the long zip all the way down and struggled the coveralls off his shoulders. He glared at her and she turned her back, not letting him see her smile.

When she turned back she gave a little gasp. He wore askimpy pair of black briefs - she’d expected boxers. If he’d had an erection it was gone but the bulge looked pretty impressive anyway.

“You promised not to look,” he said quietly.

“I lied,” she gestured at his crotch, “I’m glad I did.”

She went and got two more beers from the fridge. She handed him one and said, “You look wonderful in those briefs.”

He looked down at her shorts, “You’d look good in the rest of your bikini,” he said, and then added clumsily, “sorry, that‘s not for me to say.”

She sighed, “There’s a bit too much of Angie for bikinis I’m afraid.“

“I don’t think so, you look marvelous in those shorts.”

“Well there’s another small problem,” she paused,wondering how to word it, “it’s a long time since I trimmed my maidenly bush,” she paused again, “I wasn’t expecting to be sunbathing with company, and the curls rather overflow the bikini,” she finished lamely.

To his amazed embarrassment he heard himself say, “I trim lawns.”

She turned and went indoors and returned a minute later. He’d sat down and was drinking his beer. She stood in front of him and handed him a small pair of scissors.

She undid the stud at the waistband of her shorts, “Perhaps you could help, they’re a bit tight.”

He helped her work the shorts off her hips and down her thighs, “Oh yes,” he said quietly, “I see what you mean.”

She looked down, the sun lit the copper curls sprouting from under the bikini panties.

She moved back to her chair and sat down.

Dave got up and stood in front of her. His erection was by now a full-grown thing forming a big ridge up the front of his briefs. It’s head looked about to burrow out into the sunlight from under the waistband. How fast it recovered. Angie thought it the sexiest sight she’d ever seen; well for a long, long time anyway.

It was all she could do to keep from reaching out to touch him. Angie was feeling something she’d not felt in far too long. Arousal, extreme arousal in the presence of a man. Oh Lord, but she wanted him.

He knelt in front of her and she parted her legs and he walked forward a little on his knees. He reached for her waistband and said, “Are you sure about this?”

“As sure as you are,” and she looked down at his erection outlined so obviously in those suddenly brief briefs.

Together they gazed at her crotch. The skimpy panties of her bikini covered her prominent mound but not the profusion of pubic curls that had escaped on either side. She felt suddenly embarrassed but Dave said, “It’s a beautiful colour.”

“I can hardly walk about like this, with my pubic hair on display!” and handed him the scissors.

“Seems such a shame to cut this off,” he said softlyand brushed the backs of his curled fingers over her curls. He combed his fingertips into the hair and drew it out straight. He repeated the action and Angie bit her lip as the hair pulled, oh so gently, on the skin where thigh and mound met. How aroused could she get and not burst?

The trimming took forever it seemed. Dave gathered the hair each time he snipped and slowly formed a fluffy pile below her navel. Time and again his knuckles brushed and caressed the tight yellow fabric over her mound. He seemed to do it by chance but somehow she knew he was teasing her. She was breathing fast through parted lips and trying not to squirm her ass on the chair.

When he was finally done he said, “There, all neat and trim but it still seems a crime.” He gathered thefluffy ball of copper curls off her stomach and held it in his palm, it glistened red-gold, in the sun. An errant breeze rolled it off his hand and it scattered across the deck.

He sat back on his heels and admired his work Reaching out he placed his index fingers at her hips and traced the edges of the bikini slowly down over the tops of her thighs. When his fingers came together where the fabric disappeared between her legs, she squirmed.

They were playing now, teasing and waiting for the sparks to flash into flame. He stood and move a little closer between her thighs. Dave put his fingers on her again this time at the tops of her shoulders; again he followed the edge of the bikini. Trailing a fingertip down onto each breast. How full and soft they were. The swells of them all but spilling from the cups. He let his fingers dive slowly down in the sweat-wet moistness of her cleavage.

Angie’s breasts were always sensitive but by then their arousal seemed to exclude almost everything else. Dave’s fingers on the skin of them was almost more than she could endure.

“I love your freckles,” he whispered. “I’d love to count them.” He ran his fingertips over the softness, seeming fascinated by the hundreds of little brown speckles.

“Your breasts are so soft,” he told her. He marveled at the feel of her. “Like two warm clouds. Have you any idea how lovely they are?”

He slipped his fingers into the top of the left cup of her bra and with the flattened fingers of his other hand he eased her breast out. “Oh my!“ he exclaimed as the nipple popped into sight. Nearer red than pink, it was wonderfully engorged. It seemed to glow in the sunshine. Unable to resist, Dave lowered his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth.

Angie moaned. Her wickedly sensitive nipples seemed wired directly to her pussy. Her legs tried to close but his were in the way. “Oh yes, do that, don’t ever stop,” she begged him.

Maybe the impossible had happened and his cock had grown. More or more likely it had escaped when he’d stood. But when Angie opened her eyes an inch of beautiful penis was poking above the waistband of his briefs. She reached for him.

Her nipple was in his mouth and her small hand was wrapped around his cock head. A hungry mouth, a trembling hand, she squeezed his cock and she felt his groan with her nipple.

Given the levels of their arousal it was a race for who’d come first. Angie’s free hand slipped down to cup her pussy. Her whole body convulsed as, to her utter surprise, she came. She gripped his cock cruelly robbing him for the moment of his climax.

She sobbed and squirmed and he released her nipple and watched her in awed delight.

Finally Angie came down off her cloud and her eyes opened. “Oh God, I don’t think I’ve ever come so quickly,” she told him.

She still held his erection. Her grip had eased. None of his hardness had gone. “You have a very beautiful cock,” she said very softly and reached for the suntan oil.

Dave watched fascinated as she opened the hand that held his cock and squeezed lotion into it. Then she began to pump him slowly, gently, her eyes on face. It felt so good, so incredibly good, a strong, hard cock in her hand. Her upper arm moved her breast at every stroke, the nipple still glistened with his saliva. The other breast was still cupped in the bikini bra, but only just, the areola’s edge peeped out like a rising sun.

Angie loved his cock and desperately needed it inside her but she thought this eager young man might need a little of his pressure relieving. She tightened her grip on his cock until he gasped. She moved her other hand and then slid it down inside her panties, watching as his eyes followed the move.

He groaned and his hands became fists at his side. Not long sweet Dave, she thought.

“I’m horny too,” she said to him, pleasuring her pussy steadily. She was teasing herself as much to turn him on as to please herself.

“Oh God! Stop, stop, stop,” he begged her, but stop she didn’t and with a sob he bent over and his cock spurted.

“No, no, no, no!” he repeated as if the words could hold him back.

She watched in delight as he came and came over her breasts, over her belly. “Yes, yes, yes, Dave,” and she kept pumping him until he was utterly spent and begging her to stop.

He dropped, trembling, to his knees in front of her.

“Let me clean that up,” he said. He looked guilty somehow, his come all over her body.

“Don’t you dare,” she said, pulling her hand away from her pussy and slowly rubbing his come over herself.

“Here’s you next job,” she said running one finger up and down the front of the panties. Her cleft was clearly defined through the oh-so-tight panties, the fabric showed wet where her finger stroked.

“When?” surprise very obvious in his voice.

“Just as soon as you have your breath back David.”


cont'd ...............

"Forty Plus & Freckled" Part 1

by Julius
copyright 2004





Romances need two people of course, and a where, and a when. The two people were Angie and Dave. The where was a coffee shop. The when was when they were sat at adjacent tables.


Angie claimed to be a forty plus, in fact she was forty plus eleven. She also possessed a forty plus chest. Both facts frustrated her a little; she wished both figures were in the thirties. But time is time and genes are genes. At five eight she was tall and not really too overweight. Her once naturally red hair was still red but owed much to Clairol’s chemical magic. But she still had her freckles, across her nose and across the tops of her breasts. Angie liked her freckles.

She was a librarian but didn’t look the way librarians are supposed to look. She wore glasses and she worked in a library but aside from those two clues, you’d never have guessed. She dressed female, very; she looked female, very. Married and childless, then widowed, Angie needed a male in her life.

Her doctor was helping her to drag her ass through menopause. A bedside-drawer-full of marital aids kept her from attempting assaults on healthy males. The meno' seemed to be having a rather long pause and the toys weren’t as helpful as she’d have liked.

Dave was sat at the next table to Angie and alternately reading and sipping. He’d be thirty next week. His degree hadn’t won him fame or fortune andright then he was a self-employed odd-job-man. A skill with tools and word of mouth kept the jobs coming and his bank account was well into the black. He was tall; five eleven at last count and slim. A well-trimmed beard balanced his receding hairline.

His single status was a mystery to him. Not a social animal, he wasn’t unfriendly either but somehow he had trouble meeting girls and the ones he met … well, it never seemed to last. The job brought much temptation and hausfraus were a hazard but he’d only fallen victim twice. But, it had been nice. Dave dreamed of what might be and worried that the wait seemed a long one. The day’s last job finished, he was just sitting, miles away, a captive of Stephen King’s storytelling.

The introduction was to be sudden.

Dave pushed his chair back a little and steel leg dragged on tile with an awful little scream. Daydreaming Angie jumped and knocked over her coffee. Her bag of purchases fell to the floor and trickling coffee began spilling onto the floor.

“Damn, damn, damn!” said Angie.

Dave said he was sorry and bent to pick up her bag. Frilly fabric was spilling out and as he lifted the bag to hand it to Angie a lacy pair of panties fell into the spreading pool of coffee. Angie’s annoyance turned to embarrassment as the primrose lace began soaking up the coffee. He picked them up and, grinning, handed them to her. “It’s not funny,” she exclaimed.

“Go rinse them in the washroom and I’ll get us two more coffees.”

She managed to bite back a snappy response. He seemed genuinely sorry and really, it wasn’t his fault. She balled up the coffee soaked panties and headed for the ladies’ restroom.

Dave picked up her shopping bag, placed it on thewindow sill and sat in the seat opposite hers. A waitress mopped up the spill and when she was done, he asked for two more coffees.



"Well, I guess it wasn’t quite the end of the world,” she said, sitting down opposite him.

“I put them safe,” he said, gesturing at the windowsill where her purchases rested.

“One pair of wet panties is enough I guess,” she said and they both laughed.

The coffees arrived and she thanked him. Conversation came easily.

Although neither probably realized it then, they were mutually attracted. She to his youthfulness and he to her maturity. Perhaps each was something of what the other needed.

Dave guessed her to be a bit past forty, which would have pleased Angie enormously. He thought her very attractive. A self-confessed tits man, he loved the way hers filled her blouse. They drew his eyes. It was obvious to Angie, even if Dave thought he was being discreet.

Seeing his eyes flick repeatedly to her cleavage amused and delighted her. She was the proverbial “few extra pounds” overweight but she rather thought her fullness of figure suited her.

Dave loved her red hair and cared not a fig that it might be quite the real thing. “I like freckles,” he said.

Angie glanced down and her hand moved towards her chest, “Well I’m glad about that," she said looking up at him.

“I didn’t mean … ” he stopped and looked at her and blushed. “I’m sorry," he added.

“Don’t be," she said softly and reached out, placing her hand over his.

Surprised, he felt his cock stiffen at her touch.

“So what do you do for a living?” she asked him.

“ A sort of free lance odd job man I suppose.”

“Heavens, just what I need. That house of mine could keep you busy for a year. I don’t suppose you work for free?”

“Not if I want to eat and pay my landlord,” he told her.

“Seriously, it does need a lot of work if I ever expect to sell it.”

“Why are you selling?” He paused, “Sorry, that’s none of my business.”

“That’s okay, I’m just an old widow rattling around in the house like the proverbial pea in a drum.” She looked out of the window. “Time to move on, get an apartment or a small condo.”

“Seems a shame, houses let you do your own thing somehow.” Dave fished in his pocket and produced a creased business card. “If you want me to have a look give me a call, my cell phone number’s on the back.”

He got to his feet and held out a hand. She took it and gave it a squeeze. "I’ll have to think about it."

Dave glanced down into her cleavage and hoped she would. Angie looked up into grey eyes and knew she was going to call him.

She watched him through the window. He gave her a quick wave and a white-toothed grin. Why, she wondered, were all the yummy ones so young?








Angie put Sunday’s leftovers in the microwave and plugged in the kettle. She was tired of eating alone, tired of sleeping alone. She fished Dave’s card from her purse and wondered about all the things that needed doing about the house. I wonder what doesn’t need doing she thought. She’d to make a list after she’d eaten and showered.








She sprawled naked in a plastic lawn chair just inside the French windows, letting the evening sun dry her off. She looked down between her breasts at the shock of copper pubic hair.

Needs trimming, she thought, maybe that should go at the top of the list of ‘to-dos’ for Dave. At that thought there was a sort of muscular squirm somewhere south of her belly button. She moved her feet wide apart and tried to imagine him kneeling there, with a small pair of scissors, trimming her front lawn. She liked the idea.

He’d eyed her breasts a lot. She brought her arms up from her sides, pushing her breasts together. Why couldn’t they behave and sit together on her chest like good titties instead of trying to hide in her armpits? She closed her eyes and cupped her breasts, amazed, as always, at the weight of them. She remembered his words, ‘I like freckles’ and smiled. She did have freckly breasts but Dave would like young, hard pointy ones. Forty-plus is no fun at all, she thought.

She got up and headed for the fridge. A glass of German white would be nice. As she passed the kitchen table her eye fell on Dave’s card. Why not make the list?

When made, it was impressive. Was there such a word as depressive she wondered? She reached for the phone.

“Hi! Mr. Fixit, I can’t come to the ph …,” said his recorded voice.

“Hello!” said his real voice as he interrupted the message.

“Hi, it’s Angie, I’ve come up with a pretty awesome list of what needs doing, would you be interested?”

They talked for a while about the list and what needed attention soonest and what would cost the most, take the longest and so on. In the end he offered to work for four hours on Saturday morning and, if she was satisfied, pay him a eighty dollars. He said he knew she would be. Then, maybe they could talk some more when he had a better idea what was needed.

“Saturday then, bright and early,” he said cheerfully and hung up.

Just like that, she thought. Well it was only eighty bucks and damn, the place needed work if she was to even think of putting it on the market. By Saturday lunchtime she’d know one way or the other.







Dave put down his cell phone and slid back down into the bath. While he knew Angie was a good few years his senior he found her very attractive. He wondered about those apparently big breasts, what would they look like out of captivity? The lacy panties, were they for her? She’d suit yellow he thought. That red hair, he supposed she tinted it but oh, it did go so well with those freckles. Those freckles across those tits! His cock slowly came up for air.

Saturday came slowly round, too slowly for Angie. She was looking forward to Dave’s arrival. Looking forward for all the wrong reasons. Wrong, what was wrong with having a young workman around the house all morning AND looking forward to it?

Stupid woman Angie, she thought. He’s hardly likely to fancy an overweight woman in her early fifties. But what if he did, fancy her? What if he made a pass at her? What if …?

What to wear?







Showered and dressed, make-up on, hair brushed until it shone like spun copper, as the romance novels liked to describe it. She’d chosen a simple yellow cotton dress. On impulse Angie had worn the panties from the coffee shop incident. No breakfast, maybe she could tempt him, a long time since she’d cooked breakfast for a man.

The doorbell chimed and she had to resist the urge to run to the front door.

Dave wore clean blue coveralls and a rather boyish grin, “Not too early I hope?”

“No,” she said, “come on in, coffee’s on.”

They went through to the kitchen and she gestured him to a chair, “There’s my list so far.” He read through it while she poured them coffee.

“Nothing too major there except perhaps the leaking windowsill. I’ll work through the list as far as I can this morning. If you’re satisfied perhaps we can talk about what else is needed and what you’d like fixing. I can give you an estimate or you can pay by the hour.”







He worked quietly and cleanly. Amazing how fast and easy everything seemed to be for him. He’d declined breakfast saying a snack mid-morning would be fine.

“Snack’s ready when you are,” she told him from the kitchen table.

“Fine,” he said, “I’m almost done here. Would you like to turn on the taps and I’ll see if this leak’s fixed.”

He was on his back with his head and arms inside the cupboard under the kitchen sinks. She crossed the kitchen and stood to one side of his legs to turn on the water.

The morning sun on the white of the kitchen floor lit her perfectly. Knees, thighs, everything was visible as he gazed happily up her skirt. He wanted to ask if the panties were the ones from earlier in the week.

“Seems okay, maybe you could put the plugs in and fill the sinks with cold water then I can be sure.” As luck would have it the plugs were in the drawer on the other side of him and she stepped across.

Quite deliberately she remained with her legs astride him while she fumbled with the plugs. She even held the pose while she turned on the water. Then finally she resumed her position beside him. chin in hands watching the sinks fill.

Dave had lain silent through the little interlude as Angie displayed herself. Thighs and crotch and ass, all divided by the yellow panties. His cock lay rigid against his belly under the fabric of his coveralls. This job did have its perks.

Angie stared unseeing and pondered dropping to her knees astride Dave and unzipping him and grabbing his cock.

Dave lay looking up Angie’s legs, crossed now, and imagined her kneeling, opening his coveralls and giving his very erect cock a hearty sucking.

The left sink overflowed and Angie squealed and swung the tap to the other sink and began mopping up the water on the counter-top with a cloth.

Roast beef sandwiches with horse-radish sauce suited breakfast-less Angie very well. Dave claimed they were the best sandwiches he’d ever eaten, and seemed to mean it. They took their tea out onto the sundeck. “I could get used to working here,” he said stretching out his long legs and closing his eyes.









Lunchtime came and at one o’clock Dave declared himself finished. She agreed, he’d worked for well over four hours and better that half the smaller jobs on the list had been done. She gestured around her, “I’m impressed, would you like to do the rest sometime,” she nodded at the list on the table.

“I’d like that. Could I have the run of the house tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow? Tomorrow’s Sunday,” she said, surprised.

“I’ve got nothing better to do, but if it’s not convenient … .”

“No, if you’re happy to work on Sunday I’d be delighted. I’ll even feed you if that’s okay.”



He gathered up his tools, not wanting to leave. She watched him, trying to think of some subtle way to stop him going.


cont'd......

"Point of View"

A 100 word flasher by Julius
copyright 2003



The Jeweller's drew all sorts. This young thing shopping for hoop ear-rings for instance. Skirt short, legs long, lovely he thought.

The mirrored shelf below the glass counter was angled just so. Donna spotted it right away. Barry gazed happily up her skirt and she let him.

"Be back, gotta get some cash"

Returning, cash in hand, panties in purse, she stood, straddle-legged before the counter. "Sweet old guy," she thought.

Barry stared down, she smiled, hearing him gasp.

The death certificate would say heart failure. Donna called it sensory overload, and cried herself to sleep that night.

"Per Ardua"

My dad was a fitter on Lancasters during WW2. We never met, he and I, but I hope this happened to him .... he deserved it!


"Per Ardua ad Astra" the Royal Air Force motto: 'Through difficulties to the stars.'




"Per Ardua"
by Julius
copyright 2003




Wars do funny things to a society. WW2 was no exception. The early forties saw women flooding into the Royal Air Force. And to the lowly 'erk' these soft creatures in light blue had more impact than mere Junkers and Messerschmitts.

We airmen outnumbered them, so supply never seemed to meet demand. My first sampling of a WAAF was a longtime coming. When it happened it was not as I'd expected ... what ever is?

To keep control of these flighty airwomen, WAAF officers were invented. Like their male counter partsthey were commissioned officers of The King's Air Force and were supposedly ladies and far, far out of reach of a lowly flight mechanic.

September, the sun gone and the light beginning to fade, I was alone at the dispersal. Just finish cowling up 'F' for Freddie's starboard inner and I'd be off, down the village for a pie and a pint. The squadron was stood down. We'd earned it, given recent losses.

I all but fell off the ladder when she spoke, "Airman?"

"Jesus fuckin' Christ!"

"No, Flight Officer Smythe."

"Yes ma'am?" says I, struggling to collect my wits.

She was out for a stroll and had wandered along the peri-track to our squadron. I suggested she was lucky not to have been shot by a sentry but she pointed out that they'd not shot me. Waste of time arguing with officers!

She was tall and had a nice voice. She wore a greatcoat. My greatcoat didn't bulge like that. Her blonde hair showed between cap and coat collar. F/O Smythe was quite dishy and quite untouchable.

Untouchable? Seemingly not. She unbuttoned the greatcoat and draped it over Freddie's big main-wheel tyre and then draped herself over the greatcoat. I watched, speechless, as she reached behind her and worked her skirt up the backs of her legs.

"Well?" it was a question and an order. What was an L.A.C. to do? I unbuttoned my pants and prepared to obey.

Her knickers were very white and very frilly and, I guessed, silk. They came down very easily too. She kicked free of them and they fluttered away across the black tarmac.

Her thighs and her arse were very white and very inviting in the soft evening light. She moved her feet apart and arched her back, the message couldn't have been plainer! My cock and I were nineteen years old and the former throbbed fit to explode.

F/O Smythe's nether regions were as soft and warm as her mouth was foul. The things she said, as I slammed at her against the tyre! Lucky Freddie was chocked or we'd have rolled the 'plane off onto the grass.

And she wanted second helpings, wiggling those buttocks and issuing orders. I obliged, God the heat inside her! Her language, her squirming arse! I made it again and she writhed and yowled through hers three heartbeats later.

She let me help her into the greatcoat and off she walked with not a word. My cock and I watched her go.

The following Monday my gunnery course came through.

Six weeks later I was back on the squadron with my Air Gunner's brevet stitched on my jacket.

Twenty-six sorties before a piece of Hitler's flak ended my flying career. Not many arse-end Charlies lasted that long.

As for F/O Smythe, she went through a series of Wing Commanders and Group Captains at Bomber Command HQ. Or rather, they went through her. She snagged an Air Vice Marshall in the end. He got knighted in due course and she got Lady'd.

And F/O Smythe's knickers? I'd found them caught on the barbed wire of the perimeter fence. I tucked them in my flight jacket before every trip, my lucky charm.They'd have seen even more action if they stayed with her!

"Trams"

This is part three of Veronica and Arthur's story. The tale began with the 100 word flasher "Veronica's Knickers" and continued with "Panties Red, Panties White"

The trams of Blackpool? Said by some, to be the oldest tram system in England and now, the only surviving one. Once more extensive than now, it still follows the sea front from Squire's Gate to Fleetwood, a journey of some 12 miles........ I could wax eloquent about the trams but won't do it here. The story's built on memories of a town I've known for many, many years.









"Trams"

by Julius
copyright 2002





They got off the train and started the walk down the length of the platform. Fingers touched and linked. He glanced at her and squeezed her hand. "Funny how natural that feels."

She agreed silently and smiled back at him. She felt a bubbling joy inside her and forced their hands into an exaggerated swing. Then they both turned to face each other and kissed for the first time. Someone whistled at them in the distance and they broke the kiss, laughing.

She touched the back of her skirt and felt the dampness there. The memory of her arousal, its awful intensity flooded into her mind and she knew it would be back. She glowed with happiness and knew, with a beautiful certainty, that they must end up frantically fucking somewhere, somehow today. How she loved just thinking the 'eff' word. The day was like a beautiful gift; they'd only just started unwrapping it.

They strolled to the ticket barrier, and then parted, heading for the washrooms. He was waiting when she came out.


Next stop was a little coffee shop, just outside the station. They sat in happy silence, "What're you thinking?" she asked.

"About you on the train, about your skirt pulled up and the sun shining on you," he paused, a shy grin on his face, "so beautiful."

She put down her empty cup and said, "Shall we go look at Blackpool?"

"Squire's Gate please," she told the taxi driver, "drop us where the trams turn round." She asked him to drive along the sea-front. From the station the street led downhill to the Promenade and the view out acrossthe Irish Sea. The drive was a string of very English sights, holiday makers, couples and families, people, people of all sorts. Strings of light bulbs seemed to adorn everything. This was the time of the Blackpool Illuminations she explained. The tide was out and the sandy beach seemed to stretch forever to the glisten of the distant sea. Donkeys on the sands, carrying small children, people sitting in deck chairs, the piers jutting out, waiting for the sea. On the side away from the sea endless souvenir shops and restaurants and every conceivable trap for the visitor. "The Golden Mile" she told him. A huge amusement park was next with the biggest roller coaster he'd ever seen, with its racing train and screaming passengers. The entertainments finally gave way to small hotels and houses. She'd kept up an amusing commentary. A frequent visitor as a child, she looked as happy as if she were that child again.


Finally the taxi stopped and they got out. He reached for his wallet but she was paying already, "Today is my treat."

A tram had just left and they wandered over to an ice cream stall. He asked what she'd like but she just said she'd share his, if that was alright.


A tram approached and stopped letting its passenger off. Then it went round the turning loop, flanges squealing, protesting at the tight radius. It was a double-decker with the top deck open. She bought their tickets and led the way upstairs. Suddenly he was aware of her femininity again. Her skirt hem brushed his head and he was treated to the pale flashes of her thighs as she climbed.

She knew where his eyes were looking and was happy with the thought.

They sat at the back, side by side.The view opened up with the few feet gained. Sand dunes and the sea beyond the beach, a small aircraft climbing away from the airport in the distance. The sun was hot but there was a cooling breeze, simple pleasures. He offered her the ice cream and she licked with a pointed pink tongue. Then they kissed vanilla flavoured kisses. The tram set off, back the way they had come. The town of Blackpool now perhaps five miles away. They were alone on the top of the tram. The pickup hissed along the wire above their heads. The breeze fluttered her mane of silvered copper. He noticed the faint freckles across her nose for thefirst time.

She unfastened the top two buttons of her blouse and eased it open. She put her arms along the back of the seat and let her head loll back. "Need to work on the tan," she said by way of explanation.

The swell of her breasts held his gaze, she had a dusting of freckles too across her cleavage. When he raised his eyes he found her smiling at him. He smiled back and said softly, "You're very beautiful."


Ice cream ran over his knuckles and she reached for the cone while he licked his hand. The fast melting ice cream dripped into her cleavage. Did she do it deliberately? Did it matter? "My tongue won't reach," she laughed, with the emphasis on the 'my'. She slipped her hand behind his head and urged him gently down. He licked the ice cream from between her breasts and in an instant he was hard again. She released him and he sat up. She undid another button and now peeled the bra cup down, off her left breast. She was big, bigger than he'd realised. Her nipple was a deep pink with a large pale areola. The nipple had a deep dimple in its centre. She held the ice cream over her breast and angled it slightly, one drip and then another landed on the pink tip of her breast, she gasped as the chill struck her nipple. She took a noisy slurp of the ice cream and wiped the ice cream off with her fingertip. She stuck the finger in her mouth and sucked and smiled at him, eyes half closed. Another drip and another wipe, this time she offered him the finger, he sucked it clean.

She slipped her hand into her bra and, eased her breast out into the sunshine. She lowered the ice cream and smeared her nipple with it, giving a small cry at the cold. She glanced at him and then down at the nipple. He lowered his head and took her nipple into his mouth, gently sucking the off the ice cream.

A flash of sweet pleasure seemed to jump from nipple to vagina and she cried out softly. They played like this as the ice cream kept melting. She dripping itonto her breast and nipple, him licking and sucking it off, taking turns to lick the ice cream as the melting became faster. With each suckling her arousal mounted. His cock was rigid now. They had both forgotten their surroundings until a family of four came noisly up the stairs. She quickly covered her breast and they pretended to just sit and look at the sea. The new passengers went to sit at the front but the children kept running up and down the aisle.

They finished the ice cream. The mother at the front finally made the children sit.


He gasped as her hand suddenly slid down over his groin. She felt him through his pants, every bit as big as he'd been on the train. "You too," she said.

"Me too?"

"You're as worked up as I am aren't you?" she persisted.

"I don't know, maybe I am." he said, squirming under her hand.

Veronica knew she'd taken control of their day so far, but she knew she was losing control of herself. It was too many long months since she'd had a man make love to her and now, here she was, half undressed under her clothes with her hand on a man's cock. She bit her bottom lip and clamped her thighs together. She took his hand and spreading her knees guided it up under her skirt. "Touch me, make love to me with your fingers. Please!"

He gasped at the heat of her. She was so wet, it was like dipping his fingers into melted butter.

She moaned softly as his finger tips played in the top of her cleft. He dipped a finger down and hooking it, gently slid it into her and then brought it, teasing, upwards, bringing her slick honey with it. He let himself be guided by her movements, her sighs and the little sobs in her throat. He wanted to take this slowly, gently for her, but she was beyond slow, beyond gentle. She was fast losing a battle with herself and clamped both her hands over his ... squeezing them into her crotch, thrusting up against the pressure of the three hands and, just like that, she came. No apparent build up, just a few frantic thrusts of her hips and she came. Sobbing and struggling, writhing and bucking as the orgasm raced and pulsed through her.

This had been coming since the moment he'd handed her those panties yesterday! Her struggles, their intensity were almost frightening. She sobbed and rolled her head from side to side. She seemed to go from orgasm to orgasm or was it one endless climax? Finally she subsided and began to relax. She smiled at him, shyly. "Oh God! I'm sorry. I really lost it."

She took her hands off his and put her arms round him and began to cry gently. He kept his hand cupped over her mound, she was soaked. He put his other arm around her and held her and let her cry.

She sniffled in his ear, sending shivers through his neck and shoulder. "God!" she whispered, "it seems an eternity since a man did that, made me come."

"I think I know what you mean," he told her. The other passengers were getting off. He slid his hand slowly out from under her skirt. The children giggled and he guessed they were giggling about the old couple necking on the back seat, but then they were gone and the tram jerked back into motion. He rubbed thumb across fingertips marvelling at the slipperiness of her juices. He wanted to lick his fingertips, to taste her but wondered how she'd react. His cock throbbed in his pants.

Did she sense his need? "You poor thing!" he heard her say and the next moment she was un-zipping him, pulling his eager erection out. He gazed down,watching her small hand pumping him, slowly up and down. With her free hand she passed him her handbag, "There's some hand cream in there somewhere, find it for me."

After some searching he found it. 'Not easy while her hand makes love to your cock,' he thought happily to himself. She released him for a moment and held outher hand, palm up. He fumbled the cap open and squeezed some cream into her hand. She wrapped her fingers around him again. She smiled at his gasp as the the chill of the cream hit his cock.

Other trams had passed them, going the other way but were all single deckers or empty on the top deck. It seemed the world had made this day for lovers. Apart from the family there'd been no one to see them.

She gripped him tightly and slowly pulled on his cock until it started to slide out through her fingers and she gripped him tighter still until it actually began to hurt. When its head was in her fingers she released him. "Isn't he beautiful?" she said, half to herself.

She took his penis again and repeated the tight gripped pull. A bead of precum oozed from the slit and slid down to meet her rising hand. This time as soon as his cock head was in her grasp she began to slide her hand down. Her tight grip was an exquisite mix of pleasure and near pain. He squirmed on the seat, wanting, needing more.

She continued this wonderful teasing. Slow and steady until, with sweet inevitability, his body took over and he knew he must come soon. She sensed it too and stilled her hand. She bent and licked across the tip of his cock, he all but cried out as her wet tongue teased across that tenderest skin. The sight of her head in his lap, her hand gripping his cock, her tongue lapping its head. He groaned in sweet torment.

Her arousal was building steadily again but she waited patiently for him to draw back from the brink. The realisation of what she was doing struck her. Nobody could see them but ... she was a widow of forty-three sucking a man's cock in public. Her hand and mouth were doing wicked and wonderful things to that cock! She was come-wet and pantyless and in dire need of fucking! She almost burst out laughing in that moment but that beautiful cock was moving between her lips. She plunged her mouth down on it hungrily. It was her cock now and she loved it!

With hand and tongue and lips she brought him helplessly back to the edge and over it. He cried out as the scalding first rush escaped along his cock and into her mouth. She swallowed greedily, raised her head and then bobbed down again meeting the next thrust, the next gush. His legs were rigid, his ass up off the seat, his back straight, head back as he emptied, shuddering and bucking. He fought for breath and kept saying "Oh yes, oh God yes!" over and over.

She'd come too, her free left hand had gone burrowing up between her thighs, under her skirt, in search of herself and her knowing fingers had brought her off amoment after his first thrust. Her vagina clenching in exquisite time with the spasming cock in her mouth.

The tram stopped and feet clattered on the stair. He managed to zip himself without injury and Veronica smoothed her skirt. She looked at him and slowly licked first her top lip and then her lower. He watched her tongue, knowing it was tasting him, knowing what she was thinking. She said, very quietly, "I've never taken anybody all the way like that. Never, ..." she paused, coughed gently, "never actually ... " She put a hand over her mouth, blushing. She wanted to tell him she'd loved it, loved feeling him gushing into her mouth, the taste of him but couldn't find the words and she looked out over the sands to the sea, desperately embarrassed.

He put a finger tip under her chin and turned her face towards him. He kissed her lips, tasting himself, tasting what she was tasting. "Would you let me do the same to you?" he asked her.

She nodded vigorously. Guessing he'd said it perhaps to reassure her but wishing he would do it, right now. She was falling for this man, this Arthur, this gentle man called Arthur.

At each stop more people got on until almost everyseat upstairs was filled. The tram passed The Tower, Blackpool's famous landmark, heading ever northward along the seafront. Their passion spent for now, they simply sat close, as lovers sit. They held hands, they talked and laughed. He kissed her, and she kissed him back. They were measuring each other. She telling anecdotes from her life, he from his. They were different enough to be fun but seemed somehow to fit together so very well.

"Not long now," she said, "I need a pee desperately."

He laughed, "Me too," and he wished she'd not reminded him of his need but pleased by this new silly little intimacy. 'What a difference a day makes,' he thought,wondering where the phrase came from.

She surprised herself by saying, "Makes me horny sometimes." She blushed then, feeling the heat in her face but she looked at him and realised for the first time that she could tell this man anything.

"I'll try to remember," he said, smiling.

The tram arrived at the terminus in Fleetwood and they got off. The back of her skirt was soaked with her juices. The breeze chilled the wetness at the tops of her legs adding to her need. She waited to cross the road fidgeting like a little girl. She was sure everybody was staring at her botoms, seeing the wet patch. 'But you people don't know why I'm wet,' she thought happily. They went into a hotel that overlooked the waterfront. She squeezed his hand and gestured at the 'Ladies' sign and said she'd be back.

She emerged from the stall feeling a lot better. She got her breasts comfy in her bra. It seemed a little tighter somehow, she smiled at the thought. She worked her skirt around back to front and stood in front of the hand drier and let the hot air dry the fabric hoping it wouldn't show a stain.

The hotel's restaurant was open to the public and they found a table by a window. The waitress brought menus.

They lingered over the meal, chatting, swapping small intimacies, learning each other. She'd kicked off a shoe and kept caressing his calf with her foot. Once she'd leaned back and slid that foot up between his thighs, wiggling her toes in his crotch.

Dessert, then coffee, then refills, just enjoying each other and waiting, unconsciously, for the fires to rekindle.

Finally it was she who asked the question for them both, "What would you like to do now?"

"Honestly?"

"Honestly," she'd said softly, praying he'd give her answer she wanted to hear.

"Take you to bed, right now," he'd smiled, answering her prayer.

"Your place or mine?"

"Oh definitely yours. I've seen your laundry remember and I've often wondered about the wearer."

So they'd left the hotel, found a taxi and they were homeward bound after the sweetest day he could remember, with the best still to come.

It was early to be leaving the seaside and there weren't many passengers. As the train started moving she got up and headed for the toilet. She locked the door and just stood and looked in the mirror and smiled at herself. She ran her hands over her breasts, she'd no doubt her nipples were still sticky from ice cream.

Veronica had never gone without panties before, how strange and bare she felt. She remembered those wonderful orgasms. Leaning against the sink, checking her face in the mirror, she realised she'd done the unthinkable, she'd left her handbag on the seat. The train rattled over a crossing and her mound pressed hard against the edge of the vanity. She thought of his hand cupped there, holding her, exploring her. She remembered his rigid cock in her hand, remembered it exploding in her mouth and suddenly she wanted him, wanted him inside her.

She opened the door and peered out. She caught his eye and asked him to bring her bag. He brought it. She held the door open, "Come inside a minute."

She turned and faced the mirror again and leaned her hands on the vainty. "Be a darling and lift my skirt up at the back and make love to me."

He moved behind her and took the hem of her skirt, raised it and tucked it into the waistband. "Oh my!" he said very softly. Her bottom was beautiful, her skin flawless. The stockings, with their dark tops, and the garters down the side of her legs made her beauty very sexy. He un-zipped his pants and eased out his hardening cock.

She lowered herself onto her elbows and stuck her bottom up and out, inviting him. His cock was erect now and he was somehow thankfully surprised at at this response. He bent his cock down and eased it between her legs. She was wet already. She reached down between her legs to guide him. With a gentle push he was inside her. He thrust slowly deeper, filling her. 'Oh the heat of her!'

In and into her tightness, in until his thigh tops pressed against the softness of her buttocks.

She had him! That beautiful cock was inside her! Filling her, expanding her. The cock of a man she was losing her heart to. She squirmed her bottom back against him, moving that beautiful, beautiful cock inside her. A scream was forming in her throat.

He looked down at the cleft of her buttocks. He could see the base of his cock when he withdrew. She suddenly brought herself upright and squirmed away off him.

She turned round and she began unbuttoning her blouse, fingers clumsy with her excitement. Then, reaching behind her she struggled with the hooks of her bra.

He stood restless and fidgeting like a boy. His cockjutted out and up, showing no sign of softening. He couldn't understand this cruel delay; he wanted her so badly.

"I want you to see me, to see all of me while you fuck me," she told him by way of explanation. Then clothing seemed to rain down as she unhooked her skirt and shrugged out of blouse and bra. Just the garterbelt and stockings remained to make her hips and legs look perfect. He had a sudden urge to drop to his knees and bury his face in her. He wanted to worship her!

She was beautiful, wide hipped and heavy breasted. Those breasts jiggled and bounced delightfully as she wriggled her bottom up onto the vanity. He was suddenly glad she had paused to show herself to him. She leaned back against the mirror and opened her knees wide. For the second time that day her pussy peeled open in welcome.

She followed his gaze. Her pussy fur looked tangledand wet, 'Had there been a moment,' she wondered, 'when she'd not been wet today.' A silly thought popped into her mind, 'maybe I should have combed it.'

He moved towards her. He had to, that pussy and his cock needed to get together and soon, they knew it and their silly owners ought to know it too!

She was at the perfect height and his cock simply slid into her. She raised her knees and hooked her ankles together behind him, below his ass. She drew him into her. He thrust in answer. His hands reached behind her o hold her ass and they were still for a short eternity with him buried deep, deep inside her.

The train's motion, as it swayed at speed, made him move gently within her. Still he made no move to start thrusting. They both seemed to have a need to capture this moment. She reached down and caught his wrists and guided his hands up to her breasts. He caressed them, they were more than handfuls, they were beautiful he thought. He felt her looking at him and raised his eyes. Almost silently she breathed the words, "Now, do it, fuck me."

The words surprised him, galvanised him. He withdrew until just the head of his cock was inside her then thrust back slowly, full stroke, into her. She sighed out a long breathed "Yesss!"

And fuck her he did. Really they fucked each other. A raw hunger that was animal in its passion. They needed each other and each was the other's means of satisfaction. Love had come and would come later but this was just beautiful, pure, driving lust. The motion of the train and his struggle towards release were beautiful rhythms for them both. Her aching, straining thighs and calves trying to pull him in further, harder. They were silent save for their breathing. Well, almost silent, she whispered and hissed demands and needs into his ear. Begging for 'harder' and 'more', telling him 'yes!' a thousand times. He fought to come and his struggle brought them to the edge and over. She breathed a sweet, long 'yesssss' she orgasmed first. A dozen heartbeats later hecame too and felt the clenching of her vagina as it milked him.

They clung together, sweat-slick and crazily happy. Hearts hammering, lungs striving for air. He croaked, "That was wonderful."

She answered in a husky whisper. "Oh but I needed that, needed you."

She put her clothes on the toilet seat and sat, elbows on knees crying quietly with happiness and fulfilment, her head shrouded in the grey and copper of her hair. He leaned against the door, his cock limp and leaking its last drops into his leg hair.

She wanted to be in bed with him now, cuddled and safe. "Take me home Arthur. Will you stay with me tonight?"

He reached out and touched her hair, "Just tonight?"