Coming Out Smelling of Roses

Looking back on those heady post-millennium days, it was easy to see why we thought it would need ever end. We were 'masters of the universe' and we had it all. I had a job as a well-paid trader in the City and a trophy girlfriend. The working hours at the investment bank were brutal but we played hard, enjoying the fruits of our labours and of the vines until late into the night. We ate in the best restaurants, drank in the best bars and danced in the best clubs. We survived on adrenaline, vodka and champagne, as well as the odd line of 'whiz' or 'coke' just to get started in the mornings and to keep revving during the day. I shared a large loft apartment with my girlfriend, Lucy. She was gorgeous and I was constantly reminded that I was punching well above my weight. As the Executive Personal Assistant to the Senior Vice President of a rival investment bank, she was paid to look good. Her considerable natural assets were expensively enhanced by regular visits to the gym and various beauty salons. Her long blonde hair was always immaculately coloured and styled. Her body was waxed smooth and her make-up was subtle but carefully and expensively applied. Her nails were expertly manicured and polished. She dressed in designer clothes with matching shoes and handbags. She was, in short a high performance and high maintenance vehicle.

It had not always been the case. Lucy and I had grown up together in a small, nondescript suburb of Greater Manchester. She was a brown-haired tomboy in those days who liked nothing more than joining us lads making dens in the woods and climbing trees. After university, she reinvented herself and rapidly climbed the corporate ladder to her highly paid executive role.

As we both knew each other when we were younger, it seemed natural that we would both move in together when we embarked on similar careers in London. We became a couple almost by accident but I was never entirely convinced that our relationship was much more than platonic. We shared a bed but were generally both too tired, drunk or stoned to have regular sex. Occasionally, at weekends, I would try to stimulate her waxed pussy lips with my tongue before a quick missionary fuck that did little for either of us. She insisted on me using a condom to avoid getting anything disgusting inside her that might make her smell bad later and she was very particular that we did not do anything too energetic in case it messed up her hair or made her sweaty. At weekends, she did her usual circuit of the gym, hairdressers, nail bars, beauty treatments and clothes shops. I generally watched sport on television in the pub on Saturdays and indulged my childhood passion for mountaineering on Sundays, usually at an indoor climbing centre. That was about all the passion I would get but I knew that most of my mates would give anything to sleep for just one night with Lucy.

Then came the crash. I arrived home early one day with a plastic bin bag of possessions from my desk and a P45. I, along with hundreds of others had been made redundant. I rang Lucy but got her voicemail. It was almost midnight when she arrived home and I explained that I was now out of a job. She appeared sympathetic, assuring me that I would soon find another one, but I knew different. This time the financial merry-go-round had properly crashed and it would not be repaired for a long while. I told Lucy that I was thinking of doing something different. A friend mine was working at an outdoor pursuits centre in the Lake District and they were looking for a climbing instructor. I was going to take up the offer.

Lucy looked incredulous while slowly shaking her head and saying, "Well that sounds like goodbye then. See you around, maybe."

The last bit hurt but I replied tentatively, "You could always come with me."

"What?" Lucy screeched. "Leave civilisation to go and live in a field like something out of the Waltons? I don't think so. Goodbye loser."

So that was how we parted. I packed my belongings and left. I used some of my redundancy money to buy a second hand motor home and went to live in the village of Amblemere to start a new life teaching climbing and guiding walking tours.

It was a few months later that I heard that Lucy's bank had closed as part of the ongoing chaos in global financial markets. I phoned Lucy to commiserate and perhaps invite her up to stay with me for a while. However, she was unrepentant. She was sure she would get another job soon and informed me that she was off to 'Marbs' for some R&R in the meantime. I knew that this meant she was going to Marbella for a few weeks of unrestrained drinking, drugs and, in all probability, sex.

I am not sure why but I was consumed with jealousy and anger. Her offhand attitude offended me and I determined to get revenge. I used her airline app logon details, which she never changed, to find the flight that she was coming home on. I then rang the police anonymously and explained that I thought that a young blonde woman on that flight would be trying to smuggle drugs into the country. She and I had done it several times before. Lucy would conceal a two hundred and fifty gram bag of cocaine up her rectal passage on our way home. It was the only thing that was ever allowed up there apart from a colonic irrigation tube. We kept some back for personal use and sold the rest to friends. It was not a huge profit but it paid for the holiday.

Sure enough, three weeks later, Lucy Jones was strip searched in a private room at the airport and a small bag of cocaine was manually extracted from her cute arse. She sobbed and pleaded but two months later, despite entering a guilty plea, she was sentenced to two years in prison.

After serving a year in prison Lucy was released on remission having served half of her sentence. I sat in my old Land Rover, outside a woman's prison in the Home Counties and watched a group of women leave in a minibus to be driven to the local railway station. I recognised one of them straight away. She was thinner and her hair was now a mixture of straggly bleached blonde with four inches of grown out natural brown roots, but it was unmistakably Lucy. She wore a shapeless sports top and faded jeans with scuffed training shoes. Her face was devoid of make-up and looked slightly gaunt. She now looked more slutty trollop than trophy girlfriend but something still stirred in me. I guessed she would be heading into London so I drove west and waited for the call. Sure enough, three hours later, my phone rang.

"Dave?" an uncertain voice inquired. "It's Lucy. I'm at the apartment. The landlord won't let me in but he says that you have got my stuff."

"True enough," I said, trying to suppress any emotion in my voice. "When you were declared bankrupt and evicted, he rang me to pick up your personal things, There's not much left but I have got a suitcase of mainly clothes at my place. The bailiffs took the best things."

"Oh!" The quiet reply concealed an infinite well of sadness beneath. Eventually she continued hesitantly, "I won't be able to pick it up for a while. I am living in a bail hostel in London and I haven't got any money for train fares."

"Well as luck would have it, I am currently in London for a couple of days at an outdoor activities exhibition so I could meet you for a drink - if you want."

There was a long silence before Lucy said "Please, I would like that very much."

Lucy walked nervously into the bar in the City which had been one of our old haunts. She looked quite out of place among the shiny suits and glossy women, but so did I, dressed as I was in my best walking gear. We sat at a quiet table and I asked how she was.

"Oh you know. I'm OK I suppose. No job. No money. No home. No friends. But life goes on."

She smiled bravely but I could see her tremble slightly and her lips quivered. She played nervously with the frizzy split ends of her hair. I leant across and looked into her eyes. Something was different. Apart from the matted hair and lack of make-up, there was something else that I was struggling to identify. Then it struck me. It was the smell. It was not rank but it was unmistakably the smell of a woman. In all the time I had lived with Lucy she had always smelled of expensive scents. Now she was devoid of make-up and perfume. Her naturalness was intoxicating.

"I must look a right state," she said as she returned my gaze.

I patted her hand and said, "You'll be OK."

A tear rolled down her cheek which she brushed away and, in a effort to lighten the mood, she said brightly "Anyway, enough about me. How are you? How's the new job?"

I launched into my news. I had bought out the business from its original owner and we were expanding. I managed to raise a smile as I told some stories about escorting parties of old people around the dales. I still lived in my motorhome because I had been too busy to find somewhere to rent and the coming Summer was looking fully booked.

I finished by saying, "You should come up and see it. It's nicer than 'Marbs'."

I knew I had said the wrong thing when another tear fell.

"Sorry," I said. "That was insensitive of me."

"No," she insisted. "You're right. I'm a total fuck up. I have only got myself to blame. I wish I had come with you when you asked."

I leaned across and kissed her lightly on the cheek breathing in the slight aroma of her armpits. "It's not too late. Why don't you come now?"

Lucy looked astonished and said, "You cannot possibly mean that. I was such a bitch to you."

"True," I said. "But we can still be friends. Just come for a visit. Tell your probation officer that you have a job interview."

So it was that later that evening, we climbed into the Land Rover and headed north, arriving at Amblemere just after midnight. Lucy slept fitfully on the journey. I had turned up the heating and was soon rewarded with the increased intensity of her odours.

After a couple of glasses of wine and some food, I made up a bed on the couchette for Lucy and lent her a large shirt as a nightgown. I went to my own bedroom and slept badly, thinking deeply erotic thoughts about my ex-girlfriend. The next morning, I found Lucy sitting in the small kitchen area wrapped in a towel .

"There's no hot water for a shower," she said.

"I know. The boiler is broken. Someone is coming to fix it today. You can boil a kettle for a wash."

Lucy wrinkled up her nose but said nothing. I explained to her that I had stowed her suitcase at my office in the village. We could swing by to pick up fresh clothes for her on our way out.

Lucy asked where we were going and I explained that we were going camping. I needed to scope out a couple of tours that I intended to offer to visitors over the summer.

"We will camp out tonight," I informed her. She seemed pleased.

At the office, I kitted Lucy out with warm clothes, waterproofs and walking boots. She picked up some fresh underwear from her suitcase but I was happy to see that she did not change into them. We loaded up the back packs and tents and set off walking. It was a chilly morning but the bright spring sunshine lifted our spirits and we talked animatedly all morning. Lucy told me about her time in prison which she said was not too bad after the initial shock. The worse thing was lack of privacy and only getting a shower every other day. Also she confided that she had not been allowed to shave her legs or anywhere else for a year because razors weren't allowed.

We walked briskly and worked up a bit of a sweat before stopping by the side of a small stream where ate a packed lunch and drank some wine. Lucy held my hand as we followed the stream for the rest of the afternoon until we reached our lakeside destination just before the sunset and pitched our tents. Lucy suddenly looked embarrassed and explained to me that she needs to go to the toilet.

"Go behind a bush," I said.

"But I need a shit and there's no loo roll," she complained. I delved into my pack and found a couple of wet wipes. She shrugged and disappeared behind the bush. That evening we cooked over a camp fire and talked until late. When the second bottle of wine was finished we went to our separate tents.

I woke up later to a disturbance outside my tent.

"Dave, can I come in?" Lucy entered the tent wearing the old shirt as a nightdress and sat down next to my sleeping bag. "I can't sleep. It's too quiet," she explained. I opened my sleeping bag and welcomed her into the warmth. The musky odours of her armpits assailed my nose causing my cock to twitch. I stretched my arm around her shoulders, and she nestled her head against my neck. I reached out tentatively and gently stroked her breast. She turned onto her side towards me and leaned in with a passionate kiss. I moved my lips to her erect nipple and gently nibbled it. Before I knew it, my free hand drifted down between her legs and I explored the expanse of her hairy bush. My fingers sought out her labia and I was encouraged to note that it was already wet. I raised my wet fingers to my face and inhaled deeply.

"Sorry," she said backing away slightly. "I must really stink."

"You smell amazing," I replied. "I just want you to sit on my face."

She hesitated for a moment and then shuffled around to lower her hairy bush over my mouth. My tongue eagerly found its way through the hairy canopy and I savoured the tangy taste as the pungent aromas that invaded my nostrils. She rocked gently as my tongue found her clitoris and worked it's way around it. I stretched my hands out sideways and ran them over her hairy thighs before gripping her buttocks and drawing her tightly towards me. She leaned forwards and slipped her wet mouth over the tip of my erect cock. I thrust my tongue deep into her cunt. She gasped and then moaned, gently at first, but gradually more loudly as her orgasm built to a climax within her loins. I continued to work on her clitoris with my tongue and teeth until she suddenly shuddered and arched her back. She loudly screamed out my name and then collapsed forwards towards my cock while squirting into my mouth and across my face. We lay still for a long listening to the silence until I heard a faint sobbing. I sat up and pulled her around towards me, taking her face in both hands. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing," she sobbed. "That's just the point. You have been so good to me and I am a complete cow. How could I ever persuade you to forgive me?"

I grinned as I stood up and took my half erect cock in my hand. Lucy had rarely ever indulged me in fellatio but I suggested that she might want to finish what she had started. She smiled coyly and raised herself to her knees in front of me. She guided my cock into her mouth and sucked enthusiastically while bobbing her head up and down. By the dim glow of the torch, I grabbed a handful of her hair and forced her down the now fully erect shaft. She gagged for a moment and then recovered. My cock was covered in her drool as I reached the edge of my own orgasm. I erupted firing copious streams of spunk into her mouth and over her hair, face and tits. With my ejaculate dribbling down her chin, she looked into my eyes, smiled and mouthed a silent, "Thank you."

We slept soundly entwined in my sleeping bag and I awoke to the dawn chorus. I smiled at the dried spunk on her face and in her hair while sniffing the smell of sex that emanated from within the sleeping bag. I gently stroked the tufts hair that grew from Lucy's armpit which caused her to stir.

She looked puzzled and then smiled and said, "I thought I had dreamt it. God that was dirty. Let's do it again. I want you to fuck me hard."

I felt her hairy slit which was already slightly moist. I ran the tip of my erect cock up against it and then slowly eased it in past the forest of wet pubic hair. Lucy gasped as I began a gentle shafting motion and then she stopped and said sharply, "No!"

I stopped and frowned. Had I gone too far?

Lucy smiled and said, "I don't want it there. I want you to fuck me up the arse." As If to emphasise the point, she's rolled over and got up onto her knees presenting her exposed hole to the roof of the tent and releasing the earthy, musky aroma of her arse. I did not move. I could not believe that this was the same woman who insisted on showering immediately after even the briefest sexual contact we ever had.

I was shaken from my reverie by the low growl, "Put that fucking cock up my shitty arse!"

I obeyed instantly and spread her cheeks to receive my tongue around her puckered ring. She squirmed and moaned pitifully begging me to fuck her. After a few more incursions into her arse with my tongue, I relented and slowly eased my engorged cock into her saliva covered arse. Within minutes I was pounding Lucy's tight hole hard until eventually I came again and we both collapsed in exhaustion.. What she did next amazed me even more. With my cum dripping from her arse, she swivelled round and took my semi-erect cock deep into her mouth, licking off the last remaining drops of spunk.

We cleaned up as best we could in the lake and with a kettle of hot water before breaking camp and setting off back to the village. Lucy was subdued as we got closer. When we got to the motor home, she looked sadly at me and said, "Thanks Dave. That was the best night of my life. What are you going to do now."

"Well," I said. "I thought I would have a shower and then go to see old Albert, the village barber to get my hair cut."

She looked surprised because my hair wasn't that long compared to when we were living together but I explained that I had taken to cutting it much shorter since I moved to the village because I did not have time to fuss about with it while I was working. I neglected to mention that it disguised the early signs of male pattern baldness.

"It was another break from my past life," I said, recalling the time and money I used to spend styling my hair when we were a couple. She ran her fingers through her own tangled and rather crusty locks and said, "Maybe I should ask him to do mine."

I laughed. "No, I don't think so. Albert only knows two styles. Short and even shorter."

We showered together squeezed into the small shower cubicle of the motor home. I massaged soap into Lucy's wonderful bush and hairy armpits and shampooed her long blonde and brown hair. With considerable effort, she pulled a hair brush through it and got the tangles out. She dressed in clean jeans and a tee shirt and I noticed that the colour had returned to her cheeks. She looked much more like the old Lucy than she had when leaving prison just a few days before. I left her with a glass of wine in the pub while I walked next door to Albert's barber shop. There were a couple of people waiting but I knew that old Albert worked quickly and I was soon seated and caped in his ancient barber chair. Just as he started up his old electric clippers the door opened and Lucy walked in.

"I thought I'd come to watch," she announced nonchalantly.

Albert shrugged and proceeded to rapidly remove most of my hair leaving just a fraction of an inch all over. He scraped around the edges with a razor and rubbed in some lotion before uncapping me with a flourish and brushing me down. Lucy walked behind me a felt the stubble with an an approving, "Mmmm."

I got my wallet out to pay but noticed that Lucy had sat herself down in the old barber chair. Albert looked at her with consternation but Lucy just smiled at him and said, "Same again please."

I shrugged and took a seat as Albert threw the cape around her shoulders and started up the clippers. Within minutes the remains of her ultra expensive dye work were littered over the barbershop floor in long snakelike coils. She was left with a quarter of an inch of brown stubble all over her head and a clean hairline. She smiled broadly at the mirror and her eyes sparkled. She looked stunning.