David and Jen

He could feel that she'd undone his fly and was now gently, expertly, tugging the base of his cock with firm strokes. Her tongue ran around the edge of the crown and then licked him like a lollipop. He wasn't that keen on fellatio; many of his partners had been too rough for it to be enjoyable. However, Rosanna seemed to be managing quite well ...

The first-class blow job combined with the smell and taste of her pushed him over the edge before too long. She kept squeezing the base of his cock as he ejaculated; his hips jerking up from the ground. When he relaxed, she looked over her shoulder at him.

"My turn!" she said brightly and turned to face him. Carefully she crawled forward so that she could straddle his face.

He kissed her sex lips, pausing to suck them between his lips and caress them with his tongue. Her lubrication ran steadily either into his mouth or on to his face. Some distant corner of his mind hoped that she'd brought something he could clean up with. Rosanna leaned back and caressed his cock which was already showing signs of life.

He reached round with his fingers and pulled back the hood on her clit to expose the shiny purple bean. He licked it with quick hard strokes, and she arched her back. She hadn't been far off her own climax and in a few seconds, she was there, gasping and shaking.

There was a distant humming that was getting steadily louder. Rosanna had rolled sideways off him to recover, and David was up on his elbows wondering what it was. It got louder abruptly and then with a world-eating, slamming concussion; a Chinook flew low overhead.

The noise was phenomenal, and David was only just aware of Rosanna screaming. They scrambled to their feet in panic and fled for the trees, only turning round to look at the receding shape when they made cover.

The rear door was down and there were two shapes waving at them from the back of the thing. David laughed and waved back. Rosanna clutched his elbow. "Bastards!" she shouted, and David laughed harder. She slapped his shoulder and then his chest, hard enough to hurt and David looked at her in surprise. Her hair was tousled and her expression fierce and she slapped him with her other hand.

David grabbed her wrists and held them above her head and pivoted to pin her against a tree. She stared at him, wide eyed and serious. He leaned in and bit her neck and she arched herself against him, her nipples poking him in the chest. She lifted her leg, placed her foot high up on the back of his thigh and pushed her groin into his. Her little strip of hair scratched the top of his cock and he tried to hold her hands with one of his while he fumbled to get himself into the right position. After a couple of unsuccessful attempts, she giggled and said, "Let me, Tarzan."

He slowly thrust into her, not stopping until he was fully engaged. She closed her eyes and laced her hands behind his neck. He established a slow rhythm, and she swivelled her hips as he did so, not quite melting his brain but certainly ruining his concentration.

"Dear God, Rosanna," he murmured.

"Call me Ros, only my mum calls me Rosanna like that," she whispered into his ear: the warm breath tickling and exciting him. Then she nibbled his earlobe and that was the trigger. She clung to him as he spasmed, reaching around again with her leg to pull him as close as she could.

***

David had settled to a routine with Phyllis Tindall. She would ring him, at home or, less welcome, at work and ask for him to attend her that day. She wasn't a sophisticate when it came to sex but then maybe that wasn't the right angle. If she had an itch, then she scratched it, anything beyond that was not his business but it irked him.

It wasn't like how it was with Ros. She liked the whole 'wham-bam, thank you ma-am' but that was linked to a whole set of other things. Only the previous weekend had been the whole adventure with the Chinook but, aside from that unplanned intrusion, Ros had crafted an experience that appealed to all the senses. He could recall the sunlight on the water, her face looking down at him as they had lain by the water's edge.

As for Em, that was something else entirely. Last time they had been exploring avenues other than physical coupling. He still wasn't sure where that was going but his instinct was to allow it to unfold as it would.

With Phyllis it worked out at about three quid a minute for his services.

***

It was Monday and he was kicking around the house having been chided into taking some leave by his work colleagues. There was a requirement to take all allocated leave by a certain date or lose it. Without the demands of the family there was hardly any need to take time off.

He had spoken to Jen the previous Thursday and she was unbending slowly. She was still very cool towards him but at least they were having some sort of a dialogue. The trouble was that it was only half a conversation. He knew she was curious as to how he was making the support payments which were larger than they needed to be, but he'd been vague on the source of the money. 'Odd jobs, here and there,' he'd said cagily.

The shoe box under the bed upstairs now held several hundred pounds and David was starting to feel a little nervous about it. There was also the matter of the dichotomy between the life Jen thought he was leading and the surreal turn that was his existence as Mr Gigolo. It was getting harder and harder to reconcile the two and while he wasn't exactly lying to her, he was being economical with the actualité. The need for subterfuge did not sit comfortably with him.

Then there was the whole thing with Em. He grimaced to himself and was on the verge of heading out for the luxury of a pub lunch when the phone rang.

"David!" Phyllis said, without preamble. David sighed inwardly, he'd met Phyllis only the day before and he needed a bit of separation between visits. "Hello, Phyllis," he replied. "What can I do for you?"

"Your usual, David. I tried phoning you at work, but they said you were on leave." David winced.

"I'm afraid I have other plans for this afternoon, Mrs Tindall."

"Oh," Phyllis replied shortly. Unaccustomed to being refused, David thought to himself.

"Very well. Good-bye," and she hung up.

David shook his head as he replaced the receiver back on its dock beside the kitchen door. Shrugging on a jacket, he locked the front door behind him and retrieved his bike from the outhouse. It being a Monday there was little traffic on the roads. The day was bright and calm as he climbed the short hill to the crossroads. Here he paused and on impulse turned from his original plan. The pub he'd originally settled on was nice enough, but it was the one he and Jen always went to for a treat.

With that thought, he stood astride his crossbar and looked out unseeing across the plain. It had been five months since Jen and the children had got on the train to her parents.

Back at the house the stores in the kitchen had dwindled to solitary packets of essentials. He still cooked occasionally but more and more the evening meal was cheese, crackers, and a pint of stout.

The house was empty: the children's bedroom a silent rebuke every time he went in it. Let's face it, he thought, he was empty. Revisiting the life of a young free and single was great for a while but unless you were committed to the cause of hedonism it was directionless. The longer it went on the more it niggled at him. He hadn't been twenty for quite some time.

Very soon he was going to have to decide; try to pursue things with Em or try to make things up with Jen. The one precluded the other and he was going to have to make someone unhappy. Em might insist that theirs was a transactional relationship, but he knew better.

The sound of a horn brought him out of his reverie. There was a car on the opposite side of the junction with Sally Emmens behind the wheel. She smiled and waved as she drove past. David nodded even as his cock twitched at the memory of their encounters. Sally might very well have 'issues' as Em put it, but she knew how to do the dance.

And she would do the dance with him any time he asked. What more could a man want than no strings attached sex whenever he wanted it? It seemed that there was quite a lot else that he wanted.

Abruptly he stood on his pedals and headed off he knew not where.

***

About an hour later he passed a signpost on a side road advertising the delights of the Pike and Eel, apparently just a mile distant. Intrigued, he took the side road, arriving ten minutes later at a tiny hamlet with barely a dozen houses but the most enormous pub.

After parking his bike round the back, he made for the public bar which turned out to be a large sunlit room constructed mainly from wood. There was the low hum of conversation, the brass bar taps gleamed, and David's spirits were lifted immediately. This had turned out to be an excellent choice.

He ordered a pint to partner pie and mash, then sauntered outside. At the bottom of a short stretch of grass dotted with tables, the river idled past. The size of the pub now made more sense; there were three boats tied up at the bank. A quote came to mind that went something like, 'there is nothing half so much worth doing than simply messing about in boats.' Now that was something he could see himself enjoying.

Fifteen minutes later, the food and another pint arrived, and he tucked in, finding himself unexpectedly ravenous.

The pie was good, properly cooked with a flaky crust rather than something microwaved into leathery inedibility. The filling was rich and meaty and steamed in the early afternoon air. David paused with a forkful halfway to his mouth and felt very fortunate to be enjoying such a meal in such surroundings: all unplanned, which was the best way.

His serenity was derailed as a familiar voice spoke behind him.

"David! What are you doing here?"

He turned to find Phyllis Tindall standing a couple of yards distant with her hands on her hips.

"I'm having my lunch!" he said with aplomb. "It's a gorgeous day."

"You said you had other plans; I didn't think that meant going to the pub! Are you here with anyone?" She looked peeved.

'If it's any of your business, which it isn't', he thought, instead replying, "No, I'm on my own. I thought that it was such a lovely day that I would go for a ride, and I fetched up here."

"Well!" Phyllis frowned, obviously dissatisfied with the situation.

"Phyllis," he said gently, "if I had been at work, I would also have been unavailable. I am enjoying a moment to myself."

He hesitated over the next statement. "Although you're welcome to join me if you wish."

The notion that he might direct events ran counter to the way Phyllis Tindall ordered the world.

"No. I'm with someone."

She turned on her heel and walked rapidly away.

***

Love In The Rain

The steel grey sky was chucking it down as David rolled up for his fortnightly with Em. He turned up the collar on his new coat to try to prevent the rain finding its way in. It was his first luxury with his ill-gotten gains, as he liked to think of them with a mixture of guilt and pleasure.

He wasn't sure how appropriate it was to feel pride in sexual performance, but it buttressed his sense of self. Whatever else he might be useless at -- and that was a long list - this he could do!

David would have been happy to have met more frequently, even unpaid. His mouth turned down at that mercenary aspect of their relationship. However, Em counselled that discretion was the better part and all that. She had also insisted on paying him, despite his protestations.

They had so much more in common than just the sex. They relished conversation, food and wine, music; they'd even tried dancing but called a halt when David trod on her toes once too often.

He marvelled that the slightly dry person he'd known from his dealings with the parish council could have so many other faces folded away. She was calm and wise and witty -- except between the sheets and ... all those other places. There was that quote about 'containing multitudes' that he'd read somewhere.

The door opened and she ushered him in with a smile. She took his wet coat and he shucked off his shoes. He was wearing a white tee shirt and jeans; she was wearing not very much at all.

"What now, Madge?" he said, regarding her.

She struck a come-hither pose and looked up at him coquettishly.

His heart filled with warmth and a lot of something that he feared to put a name to. He took her hand.

At the top of the stairs David impulsively gathered her up in his arms and she laughed delightedly as he carried her into the bedroom. Em looked up at him with her eyes shining and he leaned his head in close to her and inhaled her perfect aroma.

***

Afterwards they lay in the tangle of the sheets listening to the rain drumming on the windows. David raised himself up on his elbow and looked down at her. He reached out and pulled at one end of the laces in her bodice.

"David!"

He put his fingers to her lips and carried on undoing the fastenings. She turned her head away, eyes closed, lower lip trembling. When he was done, he looked at her nakedness. Her boobs sagged outwards. Time and gravity can be thwarted for a while but not in the end denied. He kissed her between her breasts.

"You are so beautiful," he said tenderly, breaching the last of her defences.

She burst into wracking sobs. "You bastard!"

In reply he kissed her deeply. She flung her arms round him and held him in a death grip. He rolled them over so that she lay on top of him. Her tears dripped on to his face and she reached for a tissue to wipe them away.

She thumped her fists into his chest, and he pulled her down to kiss her again and his cock started to harden between them. Em pushed herself up on her arms and looked at him. He drew her up into a sitting position and pulled her hips towards him.

Their eyes were locked on each other and there was an intensity that meant that they had left mere intercourse behind.

He carried on urging her up his body until she understood what he wanted and straddled his face. Gripping the headboard, she lowered herself until he could reach her sex with his tongue. He abandoned subtlety and licked as much of her as he could access. She jinked higher taking her out of his reach.

"Em! Please!"

She looked at him unsmiling and deigned to let him lick her again. He let his tongue roam freely before flicking at her clit. She threw her head back and he reached up to caress her nipples. With that she rode his face, she was fucking him.

He gasped for breath when he was able but concentrated on her pleasure. Her wetness coated his face and he drove his tongue into her in search of more. He tried to rub her clit with his nose but gave up and instead sucked it between his lips and pulsed it there.

With her climax she bore down on him, and he was unable to breathe. She held him there for several long seconds before rolling to the side and they lay gasping like beached fish.

They stared at each other, and David took her hand and placed it on his cock. He was so hard he thought he might strain something and her thumb rubbing the edge of his glans was, improbably, making him harder still.

"How do you want me?" he asked, completely overwhelmed by her. In that moment he would have walked across hot coals if she did but ask.

She rolled out of bed and walked to the fireplace where she stood with her back to him, arms braced against the wall. He followed her, his erection wagging awkwardly. Standing behind her, he let his cock rest between her buttocks. She opened her legs slightly and he funnelled it up between them. She manoeuvred them until the head of his cock was just inside her and then she whispered, "Now, David."

He eased still further inside her, she was so slippery it was hard to restrain himself, but he wanted above all else not to hurt her. They started to move together. She pushed back as he moved forward, the rhythm picking up speed until they were slamming against one another.

"Em!" he gasped. "I'm going to come!"

"Like this?" she panted in reply and gave his cock an almighty squeeze.

David saw stars. He stood on tiptoe, everything straining. Dimly he was aware of Em crying out.

When he came back, panting, to himself, he had his hands on her hips and she was resting her head on her elbows on the mantlepiece. He withdrew and elicited a wince from her.

"Sorry!"

"It's alright, David. I'm just a bit sensitive at the moment. Come to bed."

They lay, wordless, beneath the sheets. David stared up at the ceiling wondering what it was that he was doing. He was no longer Em's gigolo that was for sure. In which case, he resolved, this was not to be paid for.

***

On Sunday, the wheels started to come off. Big time.

Yesterday's rain had blown through, and the weather was breezy and overcast but dry. One thing you could depend on here was the wind. His father had often said that there was nothing between them and the Urals. David had taken the opportunity to put some laundry on the line.

Before entering the house, he turned and looked at the few garments flapping in the stiff breeze. Last summer it would have been filled with his shirts and Jen's sweats and massed ranks of toddler and baby clothes. He sighed deeply and went indoors.

***

Mid-afternoon he was expecting Phyllis. He'd learned that when she condescended to come to him, which admittedly was a rarity, then she expected to be entertained. When the boot was on the other foot it appeared that simply to be admitted to the mansion was reward enough. To be paid was the icing on the cake.

At the knock on the door, he flung it open with a deep bow and said, "Madame, entrée."

When there was silence, he looked up and found an unfamiliar dumpy middle-aged woman clutching a black handbag. Her hair was streaked with silver and was lank about her ears. A beige overcoat was tied about her waist with a wide belt adorned with a large chrome buckle. Below that, thick brown tights connected the bottom of her hem to black shoes.

"Err ... hello?" he ventured. "Can I help you?"

"You're David, aren't you?" she said.

He looked her up and down and was sure he'd never seen her.

"I am," he replied.

"I'm Edna. Edna Robinson" she offered, and the exchange petered out.

David was at a loss. After a few moments he said, "What can I do for you, Edna?"

By way of reply she brought out her purse. "I hear you can do stuff ..." Her voice trailed off.

His brain went into meltdown. He might be a gigolo, but he could no more imagine being intimate with the woman in front of him than he could fly in the air! How could he extract himself from this situation? He didn't want all and sundry knocking at his door thinking he would take their money, especially not the halt and the lame.

David immediately felt ashamed of himself, Edna was no more architect of her situation than anyone else. He sighed.

"I'm sorry, Edna," he said, as gently as he knew how. "I'm busy this afternoon."

Improbably, her shoulders slumped yet further. The sentiment underlying the exchange was more final than that. David was distressed for her. Seemingly yet another kick in a life that looked as though it had already delivered more than her fair share.

The garden gate clanked, and Phyllis let herself in. She stopped abruptly, seeing Edna who was still looking at the ground and David raised his hand to forestall anything she might be about to say.

After an agonising few seconds, Edna turned and made her way to the gate, assiduously avoiding making eye contact with Phyllis. Phyllis watched her go with thinly disguised loathing and then made her way into the house.