Friends with Benefits

"Works every time," she laughed.

Smudge felt a bit pissed at having his fun cut short but he couldn't really complain. It was probably the best fuck he'd ever had. There was something to be said for older women after all.

When he pulled out of her, Irene put a hand between her legs and waddled to the toilet to get rid of his cum. When she came back he took his turn, peeing quickly then washing his cock in the basin and drying it on the hand towel. He wasn't sure what else he could do.

Irene had lit up a ciggy when he got back to the kitchen and she offered him a drag. He inhaled deeply then exhaled letting the nicotine do its stuff. Irene put her hands around his waist and kissed him.

"Thank you for that," she said afterwards.

"You won't tell Topper," Smudge reminded her.

"You've nothing to worry about there," she replied. "But you'd better be going otherwise the neighbours'll start getting suspicious."

Being kicked out suited Smudge just fine, he wasn't keen on hanging around just in case Topper came back. After he'd put his jeans and boots back on he grabbed his helmet and jacket and headed for the door.

"Thanks," he said as he was leaving. "I really enjoyed that."

"You're not just saying that to be polite?" Irene laughed.

"Actually no, I really enjoyed it," he admitted.

"Thanks Smudge," she said, giving him a peck on the cheek.

__________

Saturday, 9th May 1981

Smudge's alarm went off at seven thirty. It felt like he'd only just put his head on the pillow and now it was time to get up again. He had a quick wash and a shave then boiled the kettle for a coffee and poured himself a bowl of cornflakes. Sitting at the table in the kitchen he reflected on the previous night's events and felt his erection returning. The vision of Irene sucking on his cock would remain imprinted on his brain for a while to come.

When he'd finished his breakfast Smudge put on his work clothes, grabbed his jacket and headed off to work.

Saturdays at the bike shop were always busy in the summer but like many shops at the time, it closed at lunchtime. The new owner of the GS1100 came in to collect his bike and Smudge couldn't help feeling jealous of the guy. Not only had he just bought what was arguably the best superbike around at the time but he was a good looking bloke and not much older than Smudge. His girlfriend was a stunner too. She had a great body but from the way she dressed, with her big hair and shoulder pads, Smudge figured she wouldn't be riding pillion any time soon.

Convention dictated that you didn't watch riders ride off on their new purchases. It was a daunting task riding off on a new bike, even more so if there were onlookers. John, Smudge and the girlfriend waited in the shop while the guy rode away.

"I hope he'll be ok," the girlfriend said, opening her mouth for the first time. "He's only just passed his test."

"He'll be fine," Mr. Richardson reassured her.

"Yeah they're a lovely bike to ride," Smudge added

The girlfriend flashed Smudge a smile.

"Thank you," she said, adding, "I should probably go follow him in the car."

"Lucky bastard," Smudge whispered as the girlfriend walked out of the shop.

Mr. Richardson laughed.

"You know who that bloke was?" he asked.

"No," Smudge replied.

"That was Davey Swann."

Although Smudge had absolutely no interest in football, even he knew the name. Davey Swann played centre forward for Wolverhampton Wanderers and his talent had been the only thing that had kept the team in the first division last season. He was a player with a very bright future ahead of him. As long as he didn't fall off his bike and injure himself that was. Of course, now that Smudge knew who Davey was, he was even more jealous. Although back then top flight footballers didn't earn the mega salaries they do nowadays, Swann still earned may multiples of what Smudge did.

Smudge had two bikes to service that morning, so he disappeared into the workshop and cracked on. He couldn't help reflecting on how some guys got all the luck though. That said, he was reasonably content with his lot. He just knuckled down and got on with it but, as he was listening to the radio in the background, Mr. Richardson came into the workshop and called to him.

"Someone to see you," he said, letting Topper past him and into the workshop.

Smudge's heart began to race. Surely Topper hadn't found out. Smudge wished Mr. Richardson would have stayed but he disappeared back into the front of the shop.

"Thanks for looking after the missus last night, Prospect," Topper began. Full patch members never called prospects by their name. "She told me what you got up to."

"Uh," Smudge replied, lost for words.

"How you dealt with the guy who was hassling her," Topper continued. "It showed class."

"Oh erm it was nothing."

"Yeah, well thanks anyway. Listen, I can't always be there to ferry Irene around to gigs and she needs someone to keep her safe. Someone to keep the creeps away. I could do with some back-up for when I'm not around. Evenings mainly. You interested?"

"Sure."

"There'll be a few quid in it for you."

"Thanks Topper."

"I'll be in touch then. Good work Prospect."

When Topper had gone Smudge sat on his bench for a moment and let his heart rate settle. Mr Richardson came into the workshop trying to act casual. Visits from the Wolves' Sergeant at Arms were to be taken seriously.

"Everything ok?" he asked.

"No problem Mr. Richardson. Topper asked me to pick his wife up from a gig in Walsall last night. That's all."

"She's a bit of alright that wife of his," Mr. Richardson said with a glint in his eye. "A bit old for the likes of you but she could bring a smile to my face any time."

"Aye Mr. Richardson. I reckon she could," Smudge replied.

When he got home, Smudge made himself a sandwich then had a kip on the sofa for a couple of hours. At around five in the afternoon he went upstairs, had a bath and washed his hair. As it was Saturday night he put a bit of aftershave on. You never knew when you might get lucky.

Unless there was a party on at another club or a weekend away at a rally then Saturdays were generally a night off for the Wolves. The older guys either spent it with their families or if they didn't have families then they usually just sat around the clubhouse and drank. For the younger guys it was an opportunity to hit the town. A couple of bands were playing at the Town Hall that night. One playing covers, the other a Thin Lizzy tribute band. Despite the stranglehold that the New Romantic movement had on popular music, the Midlands was still very much the home of rock, and nights like these were guaranteed a good crowd.

A group of the younger Wolves had agreed to meet at a pub in town before going on to the gig. The rule was that you only wore your 'cut' if you were on your bike. It made more sense to catch the bus into town but everyone wanted to represent the Wolves at the gig so they'd sorted it out with pub's landlord to leave their bikes in his car park.

There was a good turn-out. Ten Wolves in total, a few with girlfriends in tow. Smudge was a bit younger than most of the other guys and of course, still a prospect, but on Saturday nights it didn't matter so much. They were just out as friends. After he'd bought his pint, to Smudge's surprise he saw that Spence was there with what appeared to be his girlfriend and another girl, so Smudge went over to greet him.

"Hi man," Smudge said, giving Spence a man hug. "I didn't expect to see you here tonight."

"Smudge this is my girlfriend, Caitlin," Spence replied, introducing the dark haired girl sitting next to him. "I convinced her to come out and meet the guys."

"Hi," Caitlin responded with an obvious Irish lilt to her voice.

"So this is the mysterious beauty you've kept hidden from us," Smudge joked. "Just let me know if you want the inside story on him," Smudge winked at Caitlin.

"Spence persuaded me to come out and meet his pals," she replied. "But I needed reinforcements so I bought my pal Niamh."

"Hi. Smudge said to her.

"Hi," Niamh replied.

Both girls were pretty but if Smudge had had a choice he'd have gone for Niamh. She was a pale skinned read-head with a pretty face and petite figure. She didn't have much in the way of tits but her jeans hugged her pert bum and shapely legs tightly. The thing that did it for Smudge though was that, in her denim jacket and jeans, she looked more like a biker's girl. Caitlin, although pretty, didn't.

"Are you both local?" Smudge asked.

"We're both student nurses," Niamh replied giving him a smile.

"That makes sense," Smudge told her. "What with your accents and all."

"I don't know what you mean," Niamh laughed cheekily as she faked a bad Wolverhampton accent.

In the eighties a lot of young Irish girls came to the UK to train as nurses. Job prospects for young people in Ireland weren't good and the UK's health service was crying out for people. The state paid for their training and provided them with accommodation in dormitories while they studied. Of course, putting so many young single women in one place wasn't without its problems and over time the dormitories got a bit of a reputation. So much so that most had to have security to enforce curfews on having men in the dorms.

Smudge sat down with Spence and the girls and the four of them made small talk over their beers. Before they left for the Town Hall the girls went to the bathroom together. Spence immediately collared Smudge the moment they were out of earshot.

"What do you think of Caitlin?" he asked.

"She's seems nice," Smudge replied.

"I wanted to show her what the Wolves were like socially. Maybe convince her that it's not a bad life after all."

The penny dropped for Smudge. It was Caitlin that wanted to Spence to stop prospecting for the Wolves.

"What's her friend Niamh like?" Smudge asked.

"I don't know. I've not seen her before tonight. I didn't realise she was coming. To be honest I was hoping for some alone time with Caitlin, if you know what I mean. You don't fancy a crack at Niamh do you?"

"I'm happy to give it a go pal," Smudge chuckled.

The girls had probably had a similar conversation in bathroom because when they came out Niamh began to pay Smudge a bit more attention. The four of them walked from the pub to the Town Hall, Spence and Caitlin out in front holding hands, leaving Niamh and Smudge to follow behind.

"So which part of Ireland are you from?" Smudge asked.

"Connemara. It's on the West Coast. It's beautiful but there's fuck all there."

Smudge laughed at her description.

"Your family still there?"

"Aye. Me Mam' and Da' and six brothers."

"Six brothers. Jesus."

"Yeah. It's his fault there's so many of us, him or the Pope's," Niamh laughed. "How about you? Got much family?"

"Nah. There's just me and my Mum. I'm an only child."

"No Da'?"

"He died a few years back."

"Oh I'm sorry."

"Thanks," Smudge said in acknowledgement then, keen to change the subject, whispered, "So what do you think to Spence and Caitlin?"

"She likes him but she's not keen on the bike club thing."

"What about you? You think you could go out with a biker?"

"It wouldn't stop me if I liked him, but to be honest I'm not really looking for a boyfriend right now. Why, do you think you could go out with a nurse?" she joked.

"Aye. If she was as pretty as you," Smudge laughed.

"That's sweet of you," Niamh chuckled. "How about being my boyfriend for the evening then?" she said cheekily, offering him her hand to hold.

"Ok," Smudge agreed.

At the town hall they all checked their jackets in at the cloakroom before making their way to the bar to get a drink. Caitlin wore quite a tight tee shirt that, whether deliberate or not, emphasized her ample breasts, while Niamh had opted for a tank top with spaghetti straps. It made her appear flat chested compared to her friend but Smudge liked the way the material clung to her petite waist. When they heard the first band start playing they migrated to the main hall but stood at the side to avoid the head bangers.

The band played covers of Black Sabbath, Motorhead, AC/DC, Whitesnake, Deep Purple, Led Zeppelin, all the rock classics of the time. It wasn't music you could dance to. Most people stood with a pint in their hand and listened, some sang along to the lyrics while they pumped their fists in the air and a few played their air guitars next to the stage. It wasn't long before Spence and Caitlin moved somewhere quieter to make out, leaving Smudge and Niamh to listen to the band on their own.

Being smaller, Niamh stood in front of Smudge to get a better view of the band and after a while Smudge thought he'd try and put his arm around her waist. When Niamh felt him embrace her, she pushed her body back against his and gently squeezed his arm with her hand.

When the band started their final number, the two of them left to get the bar before everyone else. They looked for Spence and Caitlin but couldn't see them.

"Do you think they've gone?" Smudge asked.

"It's possible," Niamh replied.

"You're ok staying without Caitlin?" Smudge said thinking it would be the gentlemanly thing to check.

"Of course," she replied.

"Great."

There was only a short interval before the main act of the evening took to the stage. They were a well-known Thin Lizzy tribute band and when they began with 'Jailbreak' people flooded back into the hall. They soon had everyone rocking as they went through their set; 'Don't believe a Word', 'The Boys are back in Town', 'Emerald', all of the hits. When they played 'Rosalie', Niamh turned her back to the band and rocked to Smudge who rocked back at her, the two of them grinning like children.

Then, surprisingly, the band slowed the tempo right down and played 'Still in Love with You', a slow bluesy song about still loving someone after a break-up. It was an odd choice but the soulful guitar solo gave the air guitar aficionados something to really get their teeth into.

Niamh put her arms around Smudge's waist and buried her head in his chest inviting Smudge to hold onto her as they slow danced to the music. When she lifted her head and looked up at him, it seemed natural to Smudge to kiss her and so he did. She put her arms around Smudge's neck and kissed him back and for the rest of the song the two of them were lost in their own little world.

The band's set was coming to an end though and afterwards they picked up the tempo, playing 'Whisky in the Jar'. Everyone knew the words to this and sang along. Then, for an encore, they played, 'The Rocker'. When it was over, people began to make for the exit but Smudge and Niamh were in no hurry to leave. They hugged and kissed, oblivious to the folks brushing past them.

"Do you know somewhere we can go?" Niamh asked. "I can't bring you back to the dormitory. It's like Fort Knox at night."

"We could go back to mine," Smudge suggested.

"What about your Mam'?"

"She's at her boyfriend's."

"So can I stay the night?" Niamh asked enthusiastically.

Smudge was a bit taken back by her boldness.

"Sure, but we might need to get some condoms," he suggested hopefully.

"No need. I'm on the pill," Niamh giggled.

They collected their jackets from the cloakroom then bought a bottle of cheap rum and some crisps from the off-license on the way back to the bike. When they got to the pub car park Smudge noticed that Spence's bike was already gone, which at least solved the mystery of what had happened to him and Caitlin.

Smudge offered his helmet to Niamh, who accepted. It was a bit on the big side for her but she appreciated the gesture. Helmets had become mandatory in the seventies for riders and pillions and so Smudge took the back roads home to avoid being seen by the police, who were always out patrolling the town centre on a Friday night.

Smudge parked the bike in the alleyway by the side of the house then helped Niamh undo the buckle on the helmet.

"Here it is. Home sweet home," he told her.

They'd barely made it through the front door before they'd begun tearing at each other's clothes. Once again Smudge was surprised at Niamh's enthusiasm. She removed his jacket and cut then began to work on his belt, only stopping to let him remove her own jacket and tank top. Standing in front of him, Niamh reached round and unclipped her bra, letting it fall to the floor. Her breasts were small but pert and her nipples were already hard. Smudge couldn't resist bending down and sucking on one while Niamh resumed her efforts to remove his jeans. Smudge returned the favour, popping the waist button on Niamh's jeans and undoing the zipper before sliding a hand into her panties.

He pushed his hand in as far as he could and Niamh opened her legs slightly to give him better access. Then, when his fingers could feel her already moist pussy lips, Smudge slipped one into her vagina. Niamh let out a sigh then pulled away from him.

"I need you to fuck me," she told him. "I don't care where we do it, but I need you to fuck me now."

"Let's go upstairs," Smudge suggested.

Smudge's bedroom wasn't much. A smallish room, plastered with pictures of bikes. Up against one wall was a single bed that Smudge must have slept in for ten years. It wasn't a room made for passion but in that moment neither Smudge nor Niamh seemed to care.

Niamh got rid of her own jeans and panties leaving Smudge to do the same with the remains of his clothes. She lay back on the bed and opened her legs, inviting Smudge to climb onto her. As Smudge positioned himself on top, the bed creaked under their combined weight. They both giggled nervously then Smudge reached down and guided his cock into Niamh's pussy.

Niamh was tight, but she was already aroused, and her juices eased the passage of Smudge's cock as it penetrated her vagina. Niamh let out a low sigh of satisfaction as she felt him filling her most intimate of spaces.

Smudge didn't stop until his cock was all the way inside but, as he slipped into her, he felt a surge in his own pleasure and knew that if he wasn't careful it would be over all too quickly.

"I need to take a minute," he confessed.

"That's alright. We've got all night," Niamh reassured him. The she added, giggling, "So this doesn't have to be the only time you fuck me."

Smudge rested on his elbows and forearms so that the two of them could look at each other. Niamh was a picture, her cheeky face ever so slightly flushed. He bent his head down to kiss her and she responded eagerly. When their lips met she wrapped her arms around his back and the two of them swapped tongues.

When Smudge felt sufficiently in control of himself again he began by rhythmically pushing his hips against hers, each time he prodded his cock as deep into her vagina as he could manage. Niamh opened her legs wider and wrapped them around his back, willing him to get as far inside her as he could. In response, Smudge upped the tempo and pumped her more forcefully, making Niamh grunt with every stroke.

Then, after a while, Niamh stopped kissing him. She buried her head against his shoulder and fell silent. He felt her arms and legs tighten around him and then her whole body began to shake. Smudge pumped her for all he was worth, desperate to bring her to orgasm before he got there himself.

Silently Niamh endured her exquisite ordeal, until all of a sudden she let out a heart-felt moan then bit into Smudge's shoulder.

The shock of the bite bought Smudge a precious few moments of much needed respite and the pain took his attention away from his own impending orgasm. He redoubled his efforts, fucking Niamh with every ounce of his stamina.

"Oh god, Oh god..." Niamh began to chant, not really in control of what she was saying.