Friday Came on Wednesday

I almost choked at the erotic suggestion and the perception of his reminding me that no one will ever know. He saw that and went on.

"And you will never have to see me again or ever talk about it, so use me as you want, do whatever you wish with me. I am yours for the afternoon."

"Oh Grant," I sighed, reaching out, wrapping my arms round his hips and burying my face in his stomach. His cock pressed against my cheek, across my eye and onto my forehead. My hair tumbled down over it. I felt his balls on my nose and lips. I dug my fingers into the near perfect, round fullness of his bum, pulling on it so his front, his gorgeous, delicious front, made firmer contact with my face. I rubbed that all over his length, stomach, thighs and balls as I stroked and caressed his arse.

This was such a self-indulgent sex session that momentarily I was amazed and surprised at myself and I thought about pulling away. But I didn't. I couldn't for, frankly, it was just too good. Not just his gorgeous cock and body, not just the arousal, not just the anticipation no, it was all of those things and his words and attitude. It was his reminder that I would never have to see him again, never have to justify anything that went on here, and never be judged for my actions.

That buoyed me up, boosted my confidence and removed the last vestige of inhibitions from me.

I took his big, black, awesomely hard cock in my hands, both of them. I moved my head away a little so I could look at it. In the unusual state I was in, it was simply the most gorgeous cock I had ever seen, let alone held. At that moment Grant's dick was an object of extreme beauty to me.

I licked it feeling his hands running through my hair and rubbing my scalp. I licked all of it, up and down and round and round. I licked its length, its girth, its hilt and its bulbous tip. I cradled his big balls in the palm of my hand and then licked them.

I was letting go with a man to a level I don't think I had ever let go before. And his responses were simply perfect. He caressed my head, stroked my face, ruffled my hair, reached down and cupped my breasts and said................. absolutely nothing. Words were unnecessary, they were pointless and were the last things I needed in this extraordinary situation. The usual epithets of how good it was, how much he felt for me and that sort of bollocks were not only not wanted, but would have spoiled the mood. We were two strangers who would be lovers, intense lovers even, for a time and then we would vanish never to meet again.

I opened my mouth. He slid in effortlessly, but more than filled it, I had never had such a mouthful, I would have smiled, if I could. I ran my mouth up and down and he got my rhythm. We moved together, slow and languid, but deep and so fulfillingly, for both of us.

I was still holding his tight bum. The feelings on my hands as his cheeks contracted and expanded as he pumped himself slowly in and out of my mouth were amazing. In fact the whole fucking thing was amazing: him, me, us, what we were doing and the whole scene, it was all amazing.

As if on the TV, or from afar, I heard some, what seemed to be, muffled words. They didn't register at first so into sucking this delicious lollipop was I, but then I made them out. And as I did so they crashed into my mind. God they were so stirringly right for that moment.

"Do you want me to cum Mandy?"

I couldn't reply, but managed to raise my eyes and sort of nod my head. The incredibly appropriate words went on. Well one did and that hit me like a punch in the stomach. Yes the simple request of "Where?" seemed so fantastic, silly bitch that I am.

I pulled him out of my mouth, but clung onto the stalk of black, hard, throbbing flesh pressing it against my face as a slobbered over it. I looked into his sparkling eyes as I slowly wanked him.

"There's no need for that unless you want to do it Mandy."

Oh God he also had what seemed like super-human control as well. He went on.

"Where do you want me to cum Mandy?"

I thought of really going for it and taking it in my mouth and swallowing it, but thought better of it, after all he was a male whore wasn't he? And on top of that I didn't like the taste of mens' cum.

"Where would you like to cum?" I managed to ask between slobbering licks, kisses and sucks. That wasn't the most sensible question to ask I realised as I said it for, I guessed, like most men he would say in my mouth. But he didn't.

"How about on these?" He asked pressing his cock against my tits. "Lay back."

I most willingly laid back onto the pile of pillows as Grant knelt beside me holding his cock in his hand. He started to wank himself. I adore watching a man do that, I always have.

"Do you want to do this?" He asked so politely he could have been referring to anything.

"No, you do it, I like watching," I groaned, my hands finding my breasts and rolling them together.

It's the look in a man's eyes and on his face as he masturbates that's as big a turn on for me as the act itself I think. And Grant was no exception. Eyes half closed and a little glazed, jaw set tight, mouth half open and head dipped forward hunched between his shoulders, he pumped himself slowly and firmly. Long strokes, his foreskin vanishing backwards exposing the purple, glistening head he surged in and out of the surrogate cunt made by his hand.

"Ready, Mandy," he grunted, pleasing me that he wasn't in total control.

"Yes, yes I am," I whispered, pushing both tits together and holding them there as his cock simply exploded. There was loads of it. It shot all over my tits, onto my chest and stomach with even a few globules hitting my chin. I looked down as he rubbed the tip of his cock over my breasts, it was a fantastic sight.

The fuck, well fucks actually we did it twice, were fine, but not that special. Maybe having a man invade your body does require some form of attachment or affection, after all it is rather intimate.

The first time, about an hour after he'd cum on my tits, was less fulfilling than the second. I think that was due to the position, for we did it on our sides facing each other, looking at each other, staring into each other's eyes, holding each other, just like lovers. But that we weren't, we were strangers, two people meeting then parting, we were a client and her whore. That's what we were and that's how I wanted it and, I think, how Grant preferred it as well.

So the second fuck was better, less intimate and more satisfying. I was on all fours on the bed and he fucked me hard, doggy style. It wasn't just that either, which made the second one better. It was also that no more than ten minutes after fucking me, he pecked me on the cheek and said.

"I enjoyed it Mandy, call me any time, bye," and he was gone.

What a perfect end, I thought,

Chapter 3

I was really going for it on the running machine when I first saw him. Although I was wearing a strong sports bra, my tits were leaping around as he walked past. Our eyes met, he smiled and I found myself smiling back. He was gorgeous. Probably late twenties, blonde, tall, muscular, tanned and handsome. He had one of those demeanours that exuded warmth and friendliness.

My gym was being refurbed and I had been given free usage of another gym a few miles away. It wasn't as nice a place as my one, but it had some compensations, I smiled.

He went onto a machine slightly behind me, but just in my eyeline. I could feel his eyes on me. I turned and caught him looking, presumably at my bum. I was wearing tight, hipster gym trousers. He smiled again and, unusually for I was quite used to getting hit on at the gym, I smiled back. What the fuck was going on?

He moved to another machine, where he sat down facing me. I stopped running; I was tired and sweating and felt awkward with his eyes on my bouncing tits. I went onto a rowing machine. Stretching forward and then pulling hard on the 'oars' as I arched my back I again saw him staring. He was sitting, his legs in short shorts wide open as he reached up and pulled down on the two bars. On each upward stretch the material of his shorts was pulled tightly across his stomach, emphasising his bulge and the bottom of his short singlet, which was not tucked in, rose up his stomach; I took surreptitious glances at him, as I knew he was of me, what a six-pack I saw from the corner of my eye. Was this what ending celibacy was all about?

I finished my workout. Picking up my towel, headphones and water bottle I walked towards the gym door. To get there I had to walk between a long row of exercise machines. To my left, there was another walkway between the rows of machines. There were lots of young girls just out from work in the big offices, mainly banks, that surround the gym in Docklands. Slim, with stick-like figures, tiny bums and small tits, I envied both their evident fitness and their lithe, slender figures. Then I saw him. He was walking along the other walkway slightly behind me, hardly looking at the swaying bums and jiggling tits, but instead at me. That actually made me feel good, I was flattered. This gorgeous-looking, beautifully put together young man, ogling my forty plus body, not those of the twenty somethings.

As I left the gym and headed down the stairs to the changing room he was just behind me. Suddenly, and inexplicably, my mind went back to the previous Friday. I thought of Grant, the male hooker I had invited to a hotel room I had taken for the afternoon. I found myself almost trembling as I reached the foot of the staircase at the same time as him, for my mind was recalling the amazing time I had with that hooker.

"Hi Mandy, how are you?" A girl I had got to know quite well at the gym asked. She went on. "Are you ok?

"Yes sorry Gill, I was miles away," I replied as my mind recalled Grant's big, black cock exploding sending streams of his cum all over my tits which I was holding together to receive his offering.

"I'm just going to press some weights, see you soon," Gill said.

"Great, I'll see you later then." I said stammering a bit at the clarity of my recall of both him cumming on my tits and the two fucks we had later.

I had all but forgotten my mystery admirer, as I peeled off my tight vest, sports bra, trousers and thong in the changing cubicle. As I struggled them off I wondered why sports gym gear for women especially has to be so tight or, was it just me? No I knew it wasn't just me, I concluded standing there naked looking in the mirror. We all wore our tops, singlets, shorts, cropped pants, long trousers or leotards very tight. Now that may be fine for the twenty something stick insects, but for forty old year old, rather more voluptuous DD cup thirty seven inch hips old birds like me, it wasn't quite so appropriate, I thought my eyes running up and down my nude body. Still mystery man hadn't minded, I thought as I cupped my boobs and contemplated masturbating, so arousing had been the memories of last Friday.

As I slipped into the 'sensible' bikini, the hunk who had been eyeing me up in the gym came into my mind: could he be part two? The only problem at the moment was that this was only the Wednesday!

I was wearing a yellow bikini, the panties of which were quite full. They covered all of my bum and the waistband was quite some way up my tummy. The bra wasn't cut that acute across my boobs so, given that it was a bikini, I wasn't showing that much. Past experiences had taught me never to wear skimpy ones at the gym pool.

I tied my hair up into a roll at the back, pinned it and then walked out of the cubicle and with my towel and water bottle in hand I entered the pool area. That contained a large swimming pool, five or six different spas, several types of a shower, a couple of saunas and a steam room.

I showered and slipped into the pool. It wasn't until I had finished a few lengths that I saw him standing leaning against the sauna talking to one of the instructors, a pretty girl aged around thirty with blonde hair. I glanced at him and saw that he seemed to be focusing entirely on her, but then he looked over her shoulder and, although we were twenty or so yards apart, our eyes met. I ducked my head into the water. The same thing happened on the next lap and the next. I finished my swim, pulled into the side and walked up the steps wondering, but not daring to look down to check, if the cool water had hardened my nipples?

He had moved round to one of the spas and was sitting on the low wall staring at me: did that mean they had? He was wearing fairly tight shorts, his body and hair were wet, he looked good. He smiled, I just about smiled back. I went to the shower and stood under that letting the warm water wash the chlorine away. I went to the massage spa, the one with the fiercest bubbles. His eyes followed me from the wall of the next pool. I sat and relaxed in the pool, my eyes closed the waters whooshing all round me. I opened my eyes. He was sitting two places away from me. I closed my eyes again. The water was pounding at my body shaking and wobbling my boobs, I knew that made for quite a sight. I opened my eyes again, he was still there and still staring.

The whole pool area had cleared out quite a bit, we were the only two in that spa. Thankfully he didn't speak, but then I didn't think that he needed to, his eyes said all that was needed, I thought. His eyes said what Grant had done twice last Friday, that he wanted to fuck me, of that I was sure, well women know don't we?

Laying back against the wall of the round pool with the jets of water bashing against my body, making everything jiggle, I saw that his eyes were looking at my bouncing tits. They watched me as I stood up when the bubbles stopped. They were on my bum as I clambered up the steps, on my side as I walked round the pool and again on my rear as I strode alongside the pool to the steam room.

Was I exaggerating the jiggle of my tits? Was I emphasising the wiggle of my hips? Did I actually glance over my shoulder? Was Friday starting to happen early?

Naturally he followed me into the steam room. There were two others in there, both older women on the large side. They were nattering away 'nineteen to the dozen' and had hardly noticed me sit down; they didn't even notice when gorgeous entered. He sat alongside from me so that we were discretely two places apart. I felt him glance at me and I sneaked a couple of looks at him when I didn't think he was looking. Clad just in his tiny shorts, soaking wet, sweating and close up, he was even more appealing. Fuck what was happening to me?

I'm not sure whether I was apprehensive or elated when the two women left. I glanced out of the partially steamed up, glass door and looked across the pool area; it looked deserted. Could I fuck him here, suddenly came into my mind? God what was I thinking? What I was thinking, was that I was pretty sure Friday had arrived early!

"Hi," he said.

Turning my head I saw that he was leaning forward. "Hello."

"Hot enough for you?"

"Yes it's fine, thanks." I said, leaning my head back against the wall, closing my eyes and resting my hands on my knees: my back was at a slight angle to the wall.

Inane chatter, just what I didn't want.

The steam room is deep and rather narrow. It has tiled seating all the way round and could comfortably seat probably twenty or so with seven or eight along either side, the remainder at the end away from the door where we were sitting, me at the end, gorgeous on the side, two places away from me. It is quite dark and there is that spa sort of mystical musing playing. The glass door looks out over the pool and anyone approaching can be seen for some way off. Also, I suddenly realised, as I opened my eyes and saw that he had moved slightly nearer and was staring at me, when I had entered the room, it took a few moments for my eyes to get accustomed to the gloom and steam. That told me that anyone coming in would not be able to see anything at the far end of the room.

Was it a form of madness? An insanity that had lay dormant in me all my life? I don't know, but I suddenly became the sort of female that many men spend their entire life hoping to meet. The one in a million woman, who needs to have sex and is willing to have it anywhere and with anyone.

I leaned further back, stretched my legs out and rested my head against the wall. My eyes were tightly closed as I bent my arms and ran my hands up from my elbows onto my shoulders. I held my crossed arms there for a moment or two, my right hand on my left bicep. Then I ran both of them downwards uncrossing them as they glided along my chest, over each breast, down to my hips and onto the fronts of my thighs. I left them there as slowly, I slightly opened my legs. I didn't look at him, but squinting through my eyes now and then, I kept a look out for anyone crossing the pool in the direction of the steam room.

I felt amazing. So powerful, liberated, adventurous and totally fucking horny.

I started moving again. Up my legs, over the slight bulge of my tummy, up my lower chest until the sides of my thumbs were touching the undersides of my boobs. I paused and pressed, my thumbs sinking into each mound a little. Then, bending my hands away from my body I cupped each of my tits and lifted them up a little.

"Oh fuck," I heard him say. "What's your name?"

"That doesn't matter, don't talk, just look and do as I say." I replied curtly.

I rolled my boobs around slowly edging my hands upwards until they were pressing against the front of each one. Then delicately, gently, invitingly and so suggestively I eased my fingers inside both cups of my bra: they were on the bare flesh of my tits, just touching the, almost, rubbery dimpled pinkness of my nipples.

I glanced at him. The look of sheer lust and desire on his face was fantastic. It started to make some sense of the performance I was putting on; well my tortured logic thought it did.

I pinched my nipples, quite hard. I pulled them and twisted them, putting on these extravagant show for my silent, but gorgeous admirer.

I opened my eyes, but continued pinching my nipples as I stared at him. He half-smiled, as I did too. He went to speak, but I shook my head as, holding his gaze, I slowly eased each breast out of its cup. The band of yellow material was under my breasts as I held each of them, almost offering them to him. He leaned forward.

"May I touch?"

"Mmmm," was all I could, or wanted, to manage.

He had a remarkably light and nice touch. Unlike many men, he didn't treat my nipples like taps and twist and turn them roughly. Instead, he flittered his fingertips around and across them, more like women do. He cupped each boob, squeezed them and pressed the two orbs together into one mass of tit flesh.

He had now moved right next to me and had put his arm round my shoulder. As he caressed my breasts he went to kiss me. I turned my head away.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"Then let me kiss you."

"No, just do what you are doing."

He got the message.

I slid my hand down his chest and across his youthfully flat and taught stomach to find, inside his shorts an equally youthfully taught cock. It was so hard, just like Grant's. God how I had missed the hardness of young men.

I pushed the waist of his shorts down a little so I could get to him more easily. I stroked his cock and cupped his balls as I felt his fingers slipping into the panties of my bikini.

Although I was pretty confident we would be ok, even if someone did come in, I kept glancing through the door. I could see a few people moving around, but none seemed to be heading our way.

I slid myself forward a little and lifted my bum. It was as clear an invitation as I could give without speaking. He slid the panties down my thighs a little, but sensibly, made no effort to remove them. I opened my legs. His fingers found my slit, fumbled a moment or two then lighted right on my clit. It felt wonderful and my whole body jerked as he rubbed it, with just the right amount of pressure. At the same time, I rubbed him more firmly. That felt fantastic and the combination of the two was amazing.