Roadside Assistance

"So what's up with tomorrow?" I asked. I got the feeling that I was being set up here, as if she knew she couldn't get another car but just happened to know a kindly soul with a streak of good Samaritan in him who lived just up the road. Surely she had friends or family she could cadge a ride from? Yeah, I know I'm a sucker for a hard luck story and a pretty face but I didn't think it was that obvious.

"Everything." She said, throwing her hands up in the air and rolling her eyes. "Work first, and I have clients coming in at nine for a presentation so I have to be there early to get everything ready, then I've arranged to finish after lunch so that I can take my sister to hospital because she doesn't drive, then after I drop her off back home I've got a friend's birthday bash in town. It's like the perfect storm of stuff you need a car for when you don't have one."

"Yep." I nodded, taking a sip from my can. She did need a hire car, but now we were out of hours, and she wouldn't be able to get one early enough in the morning to meet her work commitments. And a taxi running her to work, then running her around to hospital and back to her sisters and then back here would cost crazy money. Jo did have a bit of a problem.

"Nobody you could borrow a car from?" I asked.

"My mum and dad are in Turkey on holiday, my friends that have cars need them and can't take the time off to help me with my sister, and the ones that don't work don't have cars available for them tomorrow. I guess I'm just going to have to get my sister to deferr her hospital appointment."

"No need for that." I said, before my brain could catch up with what my hormones were telling my mouth to say. "I'll help out if you like?"

She looked genuinely taken aback. Maybe I had been harsh to judge her as flirting with me to sucker me into being her chauffeur for the day. Maybe not. It was still early doors and I'm not the best at reading deception or manipulation, especially where women are concerned. My ex-wife and her divorce lawyer could testify to that, laughing behind their hands no doubt. Some women are experts at it. Maybe all women are.

"Really." I said, the words coming out of my mouth while my brain was screaming 'what the fuck are you doing?' to my voice box. Her lips were parted and I could see the brilliant whiteness of her teeth.

SHB my subconscious was repeating as my gaze fixated on her mouth.

Stonking hot bird

Sucking his balls.

Semen hurtling bellywards.

I blinked hard.

"Well....." She began again, and this time my dick began talking for me without even consulting my brain.

"I'll pull a sicky. I could do with the time off. It's been ages since I've had a day off. They won't mind. It's quiet right now, anyway."

Lewis cocked his head and looked at me oddly. How the fuck did he know we were really mental busy in work and the boss would go bananas if I phoned in sick tomorrow?

"That's...."

"Nothing," I interrupted her with a smile. "What time shall I pick you up?"

"About 7.15?"

"Okay." I agreed. I just hoped none of the other engineers saw me out on the road when I was supposed to be in bed sleeping off man-flu. Jo downed some more of her vodka and coke and then made her excuses to leave. Lewis and I saw her to the door. She struggled to pop her umbrella up then stepped out into the wet, windy night.

"Well, thank you again." She said as she turned to face us.

"Pleasure." I said, meaning it.

"See you in the morning, then."

"It's a date." I said without thinking. Jo's eyebrows raised slightly behind her glasses, not much but enough that I noticed it, then she smiled and headed off down the street without another word, rolling her eyes no doubt. I closed the door, then stood there staring at the white plastic.

"It's a date?" I asked myself disbelievingly. "Stupid hapless bonehead!"

"Woof" Agreed Lewis. I felt sure that the hound was mocking me.

The next day passed uncomfortably. I took Joanne to work, complimenting her on her appearance and wishing her luck with her presentation, then later on in the day I ferryed her and her sister back and fore to hospital. Her sister was quite tasty, too, but skinnier and a little older, I thought. A bit like Kate Bush in her Aerials phase. They shared a look as they travelled in the back seat behind me that I caught in the rear view mirror. It looked like Sue was asking Jo if we were an item, only for Jo to shake her head, look absolutely mortified and then go a little red. That killed off my aspirations of getting Jo in the sack completely.

Some women are best off as friends. I'm no great catch, I understand that, and have learned to avoid relationships with really attractive women because, simply put, I know that they can do much better and so do they. Joanne was just that type of woman. Sometimes you have to let these friendships roll along at their own momentum and see where they lead. If they end up in the bedroom, then so much the better, but forcing the issue early on runs a high chance of breaking the friendship and getting nowhere, so after witnessing that look on Joanne's face I decided to put any romantic aspirations on the back burner for all time, if need be, and just concentrate on being a friend because the more friends you have, the more options are available to you when you need to lean on somebody. One day the roles might be reversed, and if you have no friends because you drove them away by trying to get in their knickers then you have nobody to ask a favour of.

For the week and a half that her car was off the road I ferried her to work in the mornings, while a colleague brought her back home in the evenings as my finishing times were variable – if there was no work I got home early, and if we were busy then I was quite often out until late. On the two weekends I didn't see her at all, which was quite a disappointment truth be told. Hamilton, however, got more walkies than an ageing dog would like as I took him down the street, past Jo's house, and down to the river more often than was normal. In all kinds of weather.

I had gotten quite comfortable with Jo's company in the mornings. She brought me out of my hermit like existence and we had some very comfortable conversations. Normally I'm trying to wisecrack my way through those things, trying to make myself look clever and witty, but I slipped effortlessly into listen and respond mode with Jo. Perhaps because I knew there was no chance of getting my leg over. I'd stopped seeing her as a potential conquest and as such she didn't intimidate me emotionally. Good looking women tend to make me feel inferior. I wasn't on edge around her, second guessing my every word and action in some misguided attempt at seduction. The look that she had given her sister had totally killed any such aspirations.

Then, on the Monday at the beginning of her third week without a car I got a text from her telling me that the garage said her car was ready to be collected and that she wouldn't need a ride to work the next day. I felt like I'd been dumped by SMS. Well, not quite but I'm sure you know what I mean. I knew there would be an emptiness in my days, now that I wouldn't have a lovely young lady accompanying me halfway to work from now on, that I'd have nothing to warm my hand on when her ass vacated the passenger seat outside her office. I stared at the text for a while, then, frowning, flipped the phone shut and went back to work.

When I got home that night I saw her car parked outside her house as I drove past. SHB. Stop hassling beauties. I parked up, kicked the door shut behind me, allowed Lewis to lick my hand, then headed to the fridge for a consoling Carling. Before I got back to the living room the doorbell was ringing.

I answered the door to find Joanne there in baggy jeans and a thick sweater. "Hi. Car all right?" I asked.

"Fine." She smiled. "I just popped up to say thank you for the last couple of weeks. Really. I appreciate everything you've done for me."

"No problem." I smiled. "Would you like to come in."

"No, no." She said hastily, which I'd suspected she'd do. "I thought of buying you a bottle of wine as a thank you but that doesn't really cut it for me."

"No need." I smiled. "I actually enjoyed ferrying you around."

"So did I." She said. "So how about I cook you dinner tonight? If you've got nothing planned, of course." She added quickly.

Me? Having plans? Ha! "Well, if you're sure." I replied. At the very least it gave me a night off from cooking.

"Nothing fancy, mind." She added quickly.

"What time?"

"Eight?"

"I'll be there. Shall I fetch white or red?"

"Red." She smiled.

"Okay. See you at eight." I said.

"It's a date." She winked at me.

Some women can be such heartless cockteasers.

Dinner was, as Jo had promised, nothing special. Spicy curried soup for starters, pilau rice and a microwave chicken jalfrezi with a selection of onion bahjis from the deli counter at Asda, and a trifle from the dairy section that I knew cost about £3 because I shop there myself and had bought one the last time I'd cooked for a date. Which, by my reckoning, was four months previously.

The company, however, was beyond exceptional. With half a bottle of wine inside her Joanne was completely at ease, and so was I. We traded stories of our pasts, discussed where we had gone wrong both career wise and with our romantic entanglements, took the piss out of each other until we were both red faced with laughter and generally fixed everything that was wrong with the United Kingdom in about two hours. My biggest regret was turning up in jeans and a t-shirt, expecting Joanne to have stayed in the clothes she'd been wearing when she'd invited me to dinner, only to find her wearing a really nice knee length black dress and heels, with a candle burning on the table and soft music playing in the background at a muted level on the stereo. Not quite the raucous noise that I preferred, but a mix of Suzanne Vega, Nerina Pallot ( yeah, I had to ask who she was, too) and All About Eve that was very pleasing upon the ears, regardless. Relaxing.

At the end of the evening, a pair of empty dessert dishes and a guttering tea lite candle between us, I was beginning to wish that the night wouldn't end.

"Coffee? Tea?" She asked.

I once had a girlfriend who use to add "Me?" to the end of that enquiry, I recalled as I waited for her to do likewise. Needless to say the third option was not presented by Joanne.

"Coffee." I said, eventually. She rose to clear away the dishes and I glanced about me, noting her reading material tossed on the welsh dresser to my right, The latest issue of Cosmopolitan – otherwise known as the fuck book of choice for discerning females - lay on the coffee table, along with the Radio Times and an Oliver Stark novel. I picked up the book, reading the back cover synopsis about an American serial killer, then lay it back down on the dresser and studied the features advertised on the cover of this months Cosmo.

Bad Girl Sex – 75 ideas for nights when you want to be just a little naughtier.

Am I Normal Down There? – Very private sex questions only we would tackle.

The surprising touch that whips a guy on date #1

A Cougar Stole My Man.

At least men's magazines are honest about it. This was little more than soft porn in disguise. I guess that makes it easier for women to pick up this stuff in a newsagent without embarrassment. Just another example that shows how women are more like men these days than they care to admit.

I wonder if she masturbated to internet porn like most men do nowadays, thinking about how I whiled away many of my boring evenings.

Soon enough Joanne came back with the coffee and we sat opposite each other at the dining table. I was reminded of the song by Hazel O'Connor called Will You which starts with a guy drinking his coffee while she sips at her tea, both of them playing it cool and thinking that what will be will be, if I remembered the words correctly. I made a note to download it for my seduction cd.

Don't ask. It's something I threw together when I got back into the dating game after the divorce, some music to play in the car while driving a date home, a sort of subliminal brainwashing to get my date in the mood for taking things a little further than just a peck on the cheek to say goodnight at the front door.

INXS's Taste It was on there. Prince's Take Me With You, Kate Bush's Feel It, Foreigner's Urgent, Garbage's Hammering In My Head, Stay With Me Til Dawn from Judie Tzuke, Kiki Dee's Amoureuse - nothing overtly sexual, just stuff that gets me in the mood, that I figured might also work on women. Not that it ever did, mind. That Hazel O'Connor track would probably work a treat, though, I figured.

"Dinner was lovely." I said finally as she tidied away the cups and saucers, blew out the candle and cleared the table. The evening, it seemed, was drawing to its inevitable close. "Thank you."

"No. Thank you for all your help." She smiled back at me. "I struggled to think of some way to show you how much I appreciate what you've done – a bottle of wine, some HMV, WHSmith or NEXT vouchers, I even considered getting you a bunch of flowers, but in the end I figured I'd give you something we both wanted. It was my sister's idea, actually."

"No complaints, here." I said, misunderstanding where the conversation was going. "The Jalfrezi was top notch. That's all the thanks I'll need."

"So," She continued, as if I hadn't even spoken, "I've got something to give you under the table, and no peeking!" She told me as she ducked down and disappeared beneath the table cloth. I figured she'd stashed a Lynx gift box or something under there. Maybe I should have bought a new air freshener for the car, I frowned.

"You shouldn't have..." I began, then I felt a hand at the crotch of my jeans searching for my zipper. I held my breath as she worked at the zip, at the button, then her hand slipped inside and began to massage my rapidly hardening bulge through my boxer shorts.

"Jo," I began, but then the words died in my throat as her hand curled around my cock and drew it out through the opening that she had made in the fly of my jeans. I swallowed dryly as her massage took on a more sexual purpose, her fingers closing around the hardening shaft, easing the foreskin back to expose the swelling glans.

In moments my hard cock was sticking up like a flag pole before her face. I could feel her warm breath playing across the sensitive head, but I couldn't see a thing because of the tablecloth bunched up in my lap. Her sharp fingernails grazed the length of my rod, clawing lightly at my balls on the down stroke, then I felt a wave of liquid heat envelope my cock head as she puckered her lips and planted a warm, wet kiss on the taut, shiny glans. Her tongue flicked out and circled around the fat knob, making my cock jerk spasmodically. I couldn't help myself and lifted up the table cloth to see Jo in action.

She looked up to find me staring down at her with wide eyes as she licked around the head of my rock hard penis. "What are you looking at?" She murmured seductively, her hands closing into a fist around my dick and squeezing firmly. "I said no peeking!" She stroked me slowly, her hands milking the full length of my hard cock as she waited for an answer that never came. Her eyes bored into mine and her tongue flicked out to lick along her upper lip as her other hand tugged my jeans further down my legs.

Her tongue flicked out again, lashing at my swollen glans, then she lowered her mouth down onto the bulbous head of my prick, sucking lightly upon it, trying to force her tongue into the tiny slit of the corona. I moaned with pleasure, and my hands were making a total mess of her hair beneath the table as I encouraged her to go further down on me, to eat my meat, to fill her mouth with my manhood.

"Watch this Jim," she whispered to me as she went all the way down on me, deep throating my cock until all that was visible was a tangle of pubic hair mashed hard against her lips. She gagged as it filled her throat and then retreated, choking back a cough before repeating the action until she had trained herself to suppress the gag reflex. My fingers clutched her hair tightly as she facefucked my cock, kneading the balls on the down stroke, milking the shaft with a firm two handed grip on the upstroke.

"Are you still watching?" She asked, taking a breather and raising her eyes to find me still staring down at her. I nodded, swallowing, somehow lacking the strength to say anything in response.

Joanne took me deep into her mouth again and timed her energetic cocksucking to the encouragement of my hands. A little light pressure on the back of her head prompted her to bury my dick inside her face, and conversely a hint of a tug on her hair triggered an abrupt withdrawal, but I had to be careful not to bash her head against the underside of the dining table. I was now in control, and under my guidance the face fuck increased in tempo until Joanne was going down on me just as fast as she was capable of, then when she could take it no more she wrenched her head away to gasp in some air and to allow a gout of trapped saliva to spill out over my thick shaft and run down into my bush.

She wrapped her fist tightly around the root of my cock, holding it firmly in place, then she began to lick up and down the throbbing shaft, sucking up the saliva, pausing after a while to tease my swollen balls with her tongue, occasionally sucking one of my dangling testicles whole into her mouth. Her tongue worked hungrily over my stretched ball sac, lapping expertly at the region between my testes and my anus. She sucked on both of my wetly glistening balls one at a time, then managed to open her jaws wide enough to take the whole of my sac inside her mouth and chewed on them both together. I cried out with raw pleasure, precum fluid oozing from the tip of my cock as I struggled to hold myself back, then Karen worked her way back to the glistening, slickened head by planting wet, noisy kisses against the underside of my rigid shaft as she moved upward.

She resumed jacking me off with her left hand while her right delved between her own thighs and diddled her clit impatiently through her knickers. Her tongue traced back up the entire length of my cock, flicking at the sensitive skin that connected glans to shaft at the end of each sweep, driving me wild with her ministrations. She could taste the salt of my precum as a bubble of the clear liquid cascaded down the veined ridges of my dick.

Joanne opened her mouth and slid her greasy crimson lips over my big cock head, the manly odour of my leaking penis strong in her nostrils as the salty, musky taste of my leaked fluids flooded her taste buds. Once again she closed her fingers around the thick base of my prick, this time sliding her mouth all the way down the twitching shaft to meet her fist. I moaned in ecstasy, the grip of my fingers in her hair tightening involuntarily as the tip of my cock nudged against the back of her throat.

She drew back her head against the insistent pressure that I was applying, her lips smacking wetly as the engorged cock head slipped out of her mouth. "You like that?" She murmured seductively, licking around the base of my glans and slowly pulling on my cock with her one handed grip, the other hand still lazily working at the damp heat between her own thighs.

"Fucking Hell yes!" I said, almost a sob.

"This is nothing." She told me. "I haven't even started yet." Jo sucked me deep into her mouth again and gently scraped her teeth against my thick shaft. She began bobbing her head more rapidly. Her hand pumped my cock into her softly sucking mouth, taking more and more of it down her throat with every plunge. The room was filled with my moans and the lewd, liquid slurping of her enthusiastic fellatio, my cock as hard as a rod of steel as I fucked it between her warm, wet, noisy lips to the background soundtrack of Katie Melua singing something I'd never heard before and probably wouldn't recognise if I heard it again.