Patrice's New Life

Divorced at forty one. Not the way Patrice had thought her life would go. No children had arrived and she was cheated on by her ex, Peter, who had wanted kids, and it all went down hill from there. But she considered she had won the divorce at least. Peter had been very well off.

The flat was hers. Not a luxury penthouse, but pretty good. She did not need to work to survive, but for a few comforts in life, she worked from home online, and was settling in to single life again. Of course this wouldn't exactly go the way she expected either, or these words would not exist.

Up one floor via two opposed flights of stairs, and down a short corridor were two doors, facing each other. Number three on the left was Patrice's and opposite was twenty one year old Nathan's number four. Known as Nat he was a personal trainer, six foot two and of course, athletic and gorgeous.

After about six weeks Nat and Patrice had met, talked a few times and had coffee twice, one in each flat. Nat thought Patrice looked like the actress Keeley Hawes, which in his mind was no bad thing. He liked a woman who was just straight forward good looking, not an instant sex kitten. More, real.

"Your predecessor, Jenny, and I had a key to each others door, I'm sure you can see the problem of being locked out on the first floor, not even an open window in easy reach. Would you like us to do the same?" Asked the blond hotty.

"I must admit the thought had crossed my mind, yes, if you don't mind?" Pat replied. "That would be a comfort. What happened to Jenny by the way?"

"She was eighty seven..." Nat said quietly, "Nice lady."

It was after their fourth coffee, this time in Nat's place, that Nat asked what Pat was doing on Friday night, he had an invite to a friend's anniversary party and no one to go with due to a late bout of Covid at his other friend's office. After a little thought and checking things like the general age of the guests, Patrice decided a little letting down of the old hair might be good for her. Nothing more or less than that, even if she would 'be on the arm of' a good looking young man.

Casual dress, not much to go on really, did that mean dress to impress or, dress to impress while trying not to look like you've dressed to impress? And for Patrice, well, not to look like mutton dressed like lamb, or mutton dressed as mutton even. Now a little over forty two this could be a bit tricky.

In the end, a simple black knee length skirt with a small split up one side, and black court shoes, a silk like red blouse with two buttons undone and a lightweight black blazer like jacket seemed alright, and since she thought her legs were still quite good, no tights. Nat seemed quite impressed when he opened his door, an obvious looking over brought a pleasant smile to his face.

"Hello Nat glad you came." Said Allen, the host, "Liz will be happy to see you. Oh and who might this be then? Punching well above you're weight my friend, well above. Greetings lovely lady," he said talking directly to Pat, "How on earth did this reprobate convince you to be seen in public with him?"

Blushing slightly at the late twenties man's obvious flirting, Pat quickly said,

"Oh he was desperate so as his neighbour I took pity on him, He has promised to behave though, I'm Pat by the way, nice to meet you Allen."

"First time for everything I suppose, come on in, lets lose the coats and get you both a drink, important things first eh?"

After several versions of the explanation for Pat being Nat's 'date', it wore a bit thin, but everyone was rather nice and Pat realised she was out of practice with socialising and enjoyed making new acquaintances, having left most of her previous ones with her ex husband. No one commented on the age difference if they really thought they were a couple, and Pat honestly felt relaxed and safe.

Next morning Pat awoke with just a slight headache and a feeling that she'd had fun, but couldn't recall getting home. She felt O.K. Apart from the head, and her only concern was that she hadn't done anything silly last night. Her clothes were as she would normally have left them, and the flat was still tidy. The thought that she hadn't got up to anything with a certain fit young man was both reassuring and honestly, a teensy bit disappointing.

But she in no way considered herself vastly attractive to a man half her age, rather more of a plain Jane. She sighed and went to shower.

Over the next few months Pat an' Nat became sort of established, and Allen and Liz were friends in the normal sense of the word, and there were others that were more acquaintances. Patrice was getting invites directly, not as a plus one.

One damp Sunday afternoon Pat an' Nat were having a coffee in Nathan's flat and just chatting, and this was the start of the change.

Patrice had been watching day time telly and it got her thinking, and one thought had stuck, she had a question. But how to phrase it?

"So," she began, don't take this the wrong way Nat, but I have a question."

"Yes?" He answered, stretching the word out to about eight letters worth.

"Well, um, we have, well, been out and got drunk and so on, and more than once you appear to have gotten me home while I was, sort of, well out of sorts. Right?"

Again the drawn out response.

"And like the perfect gent, you got me home safe and sound, and, like, didn't try anything, you know, like that!"

A slight grin accompanied the word this time.

"Well, are you just a perfect gentleman. Or am I sort of, you know, not worth it?"

"O.K." Nathan relented, "You are 'worth it' as you put it. Very much so, and don't think people haven't suggested things, of that nature. Between you and me or you and others. You dress conservatively but it's clear you've got a nice bod and all that. I think it's a kind of respect that no one has tried it on with you. Possibly in some cases respect for me if they think we're a We. A couple of sorts. Make sense?"

"I think it does yes, thank you. So, if a drunk forty something doesn't float ya boat, what does, I'm curious?" Pat had never seen Nat with anyone resembling a partner, nor heard of one.

"You don't want to know what I float on young lady."

"I did ask, so I must!"

There was a thoughtful pause in the conversation as Nathan considered things. After a few moments he spoke.

"Tell you what, come over tonight, around seven to seven thirty, bring wine, and I'll show you what floats my boat. Just be prepared to do as you're bid, and, trust me!" The last two words were said in an evil moustache twirling sort of way that brought a grin to Pat's face, and a feint stir elsewhere in her anatomy.

Patrice's head spun for a while, and her thoughts got a little wild at times. She showered and dressed informally. Denim shorts, white t-shirt, bra and matching pants with a pair of old slippers with the backs flattened down. Not an uncommon outfit to wear to Nat's place. And she had a wine or two before going next door.

"Hi there, let me take the wine." Nat greeted her, he noticed her nervousness but didn't let on. "Go on through."

Pat went to sit at the kitchen table where they had most of their talks and coffees, but then it all changed.

Something hard was pushed into her mouth by someone behind her, and at the same time a dark hood or bag went over her head. The ball gag was secured and as soon as the hood was on her hands were cuffed behind her. The sound killing headphones shut her off from all but the physical world, and in that world she was lifted into a fireman's carry and dumped unceremoniously onto a bed. She was quickly tied by her feet to the corners of the bed, and her hands released and then fixed in the same manor as her feet.

Excited, crapping herself, tingling and shaking, what the fuck was going on. Then her clothes were all cut off. All she could do was make a useless noise over the ball gag and wriggle. She was naked and terrifyingly excited and lost. Very nearly in shock.

It began with someone licking softly around and then in her pussy. No sound or sight just heightened everything, who was it, how many were there and how far would it go? How far did she want it to go, and what could she do anyway? Her clitoris was burning already and she was very wet. The tongue was very good.

A mouth on each nipple at the same time made her jump inside her skin, they also increased wetness below. She felt very scared but excited too, she wondered if she was really kinky in some way she'd not known before.

Three at least then, all male? Did she want one to be female? Did she want any of it? Did anything she thought matter? All Patrice had to cling to was Nat's direction to "trust me".

Her nipples were flicked and squeezed while she was licked out, it was only a short time before she felt her first orgasm building. Who was responsible for the tongue? Did she know them, or even ever seen them? What if it was some dirty tramp off the streets?

That did it, the thought that her clean healthy body could be being used by some filthy tramp made her cum. A deep, heavy sensation in her guts and her nether regions spread all over her body. She made groaning noises over her gag to join the saliva already spilled, she felt very warm all over.

Patrice almost never felt the entry. As her mind recovered from the attack of fluffy clouds the cum had delivered, she realised she had a cock, a lovely hard meaty rod, plunging into her wet pussy and pulling out only to plunge right back in again in a steady rhythm, She was near cumming again already at the thought.

Was this the cock of a handsome young fitness coach, or that of a total stranger? Maybe someone she knew and socialised with. Next time they met that person would know he had fucked her. But Pat wouldn't

Would they judge her, and how?

More cumming followed.

Pat had no idea when her limbs were set free as she was turned onto her hands and knees. The thought to remove the hood and gag was there, right at the front of her mind, she just needed to get properly set on her hands and knees first. Then it was too late and she was attached to the bed again. Oh well she thought.

Anal was something Pat had done but was not her greatest love when it came to sex. Right now though it was welcome relief for her battered pussy and she had another orgasm soon after her rear was entered. Before long she felt a body crawl under her and another cock was pushed into her quim, or rather, she was pushed down onto it.

Oh fuck, condoms she thought. Hell what if they are tramps and no condoms?

There were no condoms. The first rush of warm fluid into her bowels told her that. She came again when the same sensation happened in her pussy, lots of warm seed flooding her.

Two more deposits were delivered to her quim, and Pat was barely conscious when she was laid on her back with all restraints released. It took several minutes to realise she was free, gag removed but still the hood, only folded up to uncover her mouth. She felt the wet puddle under her backside where cum had gathered.

Reaching up to the hood Pat removed it. Beside the bed was a large mug of tea steaming away and she could hear the telly through the slightly open door. Who was there? Just Nat or the others that had taken her while she was restricted? Should she go and see? Could she even walk yet?

Did she want to know who it was other than, presumably, Nat, that had fucked her like a whore? Would it be too much for her if she knew? Could she ever face them, knowing that they knew, that Pat had taken all that cock like a real slut and enjoyed it?

Tea first, then face the world. Yes, not to delay things, just, drink the tea and recover.

Yes.