The Beardy Shagger

An annoying buzzing drilled its way into Sharon's brain. Eye's still firmly shut against the inevitable call of consciousness she flings her hand to the side, swatting at where memory says her bedside table should be. On the third attempt she grabs her phone and blindly swipes at the screen, miraculously managing to silence the alarm she didn't remember setting. She pulls the phone to her chest and immediately drifts back to sleep. Five minutes later the phone starts up again, only now it's sitting on top of her left breast and the unexpected vibrations violently reverberating through the soft tissue jolts her awake. Through bleary eyes she looks at the phone and manages to turn the alarm off this time. A dull throbbing behind her eyes reminds her that the second bottle of wine last night was definitely not the good idea it seemed at the time. As the phone screen starts to darken she notices the notification telling her she has new messages. Fuck. Who was she messaging? There were two possibilities. It was either Brian, or it was Lucy, about Brian. She cringed inwardly, she couldn't face reading what she'd said last night, not yet.

A strong pressure in her bladder was making it clear she had been holding in a piss for far too long. She starts to shift her body weight towards the side of the bed and feels her hip hit something solid, peeling back the covers reveals her Hitachi Wand, she stares at it for a second puzzled, before a hazy recollection of crawling into bed last night, horny and frustrated bubbles to the surface, accompanied by the disappointment that it had inexplicably not worked. No matter how many times she had flicked the dial between on and off her up to now trusty friend had refused to buzz into life. She pushes the device further down the bed and swings her legs over the side, her left foot touches down but as her right touches down a sharp pain makes her cry out. She grabs at her foot and looking down sees an upturned plug, In a cruel twist of fate that only seems to happen in a hungover haze she had managed to put her foot directly on top of the only thing laying on an otherwise empty floor. Tracing the cord with her eyes she sees it snake up under the covers, well, guess that explains that little mystery, in her drunken state last night she hadn't even plugged the fucking thing in.

She makes her way, with a slight limp, out of the bedroom into the hallway and towards the bathroom. She keeps her eyes fixed firmly forward as she passes the full length mirror on the wall. She doesn't need to see her naked reflection, she knows what she will see and she doesn't like it. She is a fifty-five year old, heavy set woman with more wobbly bits than she cares to look at. She had always been a heavier girl in her youth, but youthful exuberance and the desire to try to be one of the skinny girls had kept things in check. As she got older she had decided that there was more to life than what society thought of her and she had been determined to enjoy it. She stopped worrying about her figure, ate what she wanted, drank what she wanted and generally embraced the good things, and while she didn't regret at all living that way, she also knew she could have done more to keep her weight down. When she looked in the mirror these days all she saw were big thighs, a round belly and a wobbly bum. Her body hadn't even had the decency to lump some of the weight onto her boobs, they remained the modest C cup they had always been.

Focusing on each unsteady step she finds her way to the bathroom and sits heavily on the toilet. Feeling a welcome relief as her bladder empties, she finally lets her brain start to piece together the events of last night. It was fucking Brian's fault. She'd met Lucy for a drink after work, in the pub in the small town where they both lived. As she took her first sip of her white wine Lucy had looked at her, one eyebrow raised.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well Brian obviously, have you heard from him?"

"Ugh, do we have to?"

"Yes we have to, you've been moping around for two weeks now, three months of chatting and dates. All the while you were finally starting to seem like you might be ready to let someone in and now.....nothing?! not a word about him! You're not looking at your phone and smiling like you were, no popping out for a quick call. What the hell happened?"

"I don't know Lucy! That's the annoying thing. He seemed so nice at first, we chatted easily and he didn't come across as pervy like all the others."

"Ha, online dating sites, you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and pervy"

Sharon looked quizzically at her friend, the quote completely lost on her. Lucy smiled and waved her on, knowing it was pointless to explain.

"Anyway, it all seemed to be going fine and then out of the blue he just sort of, changed"

"Changed?"

"Yeah, I dunno, we'd been chatting for weeks, met a couple of times and the last time we met up he was really pushy. Kept trying to get me to go into shops and try on clothes, it was weird. He was kinda insistent that he wanted to buy me something new. At first i thought it was kinda sweet, like maybe it was a lead in to going for a nice dinner, but he kept suggesting things that were too tight. Any time I looked at something he kept suggesting I try the smaller size. It was just weird, and when i didn't go along with it he kinda got huffy. Suddenly he needed to be somewhere else and I've had barely any contact from him since. The odd "Hi, how's things" but it's always followed by requests for a picture and always a full body shot."

She stopped talking, suddenly a little embarrassed. She hadn't meant to spill out quite so much. Since trying online dating she'd found that it seemed the vast majority of men seemed to only want sex, and more, that they only wanted someone to fulfil the fantasies they were too afraid to seek out in their every day lives. So many opening messages that described, in badly written, misspelled, disturbing detail what they wanted to do to, on and with her belly. It was humiliating and soul destroying. She'd been about to give up entirely when she matched with Brian, he'd seemed different, at first.

Lucy, sensing her friend's discomfort steered the conversation to other topics, though only after a parting shot about how Brian was clearly an insecure loser and she didn't need him. She had got home that night, a little tipsy and annoyed and opened a bottle of wine. That had led to two and somewhere around a third into the second bottle she now remembered she had decided to let Brian know how she felt.

She finished up in the bathroom, washed her hands and face and with a determination to face it and get it over with, padded back to her bedroom to check her phone, see just how embarrassing she had been. She flopped onto the bed and fished her phone out from its new hiding place under the pillow. The message wasn't from Brian, but she had messaged him last night, she'd told him she was done, he could go get his kicks from beating up someone else's self esteem, ideally his own, she smiled to herself, that wasn't bad. The following message, where she'd told him his unimpressive manhood might be a good place to start his self loathing, was maybe not her finest moment but fuck it he deserved it, She opened the message from Lucy.

"Did you hear back from Beardy? Can't believe you sent it!"

Her blood turned to ice, Beardy? No! She didn't?! She quickly looks through her sent messages, nothing. She breathes a sigh of relief and messages Lucy back.

"Lol very funny, i wasn't that bad last night!"

A reply immediately comes back in, this time a photo. It's a picture of her phone, clearly taken by Lucy and on her screen clear as day is a message addressed to "BS"

"Can you come round tonight?"

Another ping and Lucy fills in the blanks

"You sent it after the third glass in the pub, you deleted it immediately only Sharon, i think you only deleted it for you, pretty sure it got sent!"

Well Fuck. Fuckity Fuck Fuck Fuck. Beardy was sort of an in-joke, A one night stand from almost 15 years ago. Well not even really a one night stand, more like a transaction. Back then she had briefly worked with a woman called Jane, it was only for a month, maybe two, but they'd got on pretty well and once or twice had gone for drinks. One particularly messy night Sharon had been lamenting her love life. She'd been so career focused she'd never really had a boyfriend, and her last brush with romance had been a horribly regrettable drunken one night stand about a year before. A guy twice her age who had taken her home, shoved his half limp dick in her, with zero foreplay, thrashed around like a fish out of water for about a minute then rolled off and gone to sleep. It had all been over before she really registered it had started. She didn't even stay the night, leaving his house feeling hollow and frustrated. Jane had listened to her woes and at the end of the night had written a number down on a napkin.

"Call him, he's sweet. Trust me, just drop him a message and name a time, even if it's only once, i promise he'll make you feel like a princess."

And one fateful day a few weeks later, after a couple of lunch time drinks with the girls she had done just that. She'd felt weird about it, this idea of having a man come and what, service her?, but she was tipsy and horny and in a fuck it kind of mood. She'd messaged a time and her address and he replied saying okay and he would bring dinner, and asked what she liked. There was a local Italian that did a great Carbonara so she had given him the name of the place and her order. He turned up that night, bang on time. When she opened the door she was pleasantly surprised. He was handsome without being striking, a few inches taller than her 5ft 8in frame, a sturdy yet slim figure, slim not skinny. It looked like he worked for a living rather than worked out. He had close cropped dark hair and the one stand out feature was his beard, a well groomed, shaped beard of curly black hair. He had a rucksack with him, but there was no sign of the take away food she was expecting. He smiled at her, a warm friendly disarming smile.

"Hi?"

"No names"

She didn't know why she had said it, she hadn't intended to but now she had she felt safer in it. It was an illusion she knew, he knew her address for god's sake, but not knowing names would make it feel more like the transaction it was. He nodded in acknowledgement, there was maybe a hint of frustration, possibly confusion in his eyes but she decided it didn't matter. Even if this wasn't how it normally worked, it's how it would work for her. She turned and invited him in, he enquired where the kitchen was and set off in that direction. As she joined him there she could see he's already started laying out ingredients from his bag, and was opening a bottle of wine. He poured her a glass and handed it to her then instructed her to go put her feet up in the living room, give him half an hour and he would let her know when dinner was ready. She had sat, listening to music and the general clammer of cooking coming from her sadly underused kitchen and her stomach started to rumble at the smells emanating from the doorway.

Almost exactly thirty minutes later he called her into the kitchen, he'd laid her small table, table cloth, cutlery plates everything had clearly come from his bag as she didn't recognize any of them. He had been prepared. She sat, and devoured one of the best carbonarra's she'd ever tasted. It wasn't just as good as the local italian, it was far better. They chatted casually as they ate, and had easy relaxed conversation. He did most of the heavy lifting, finding topics she was open to talking about and providing balanced, well reasoned opinions. By the time he dished up some Tiramisu for dessert, with a small smile and an apology that this part was store bought, she felt completely at ease in his company. After dinner he had cleared the table, washed the dishes and restacked everything into his rucksack. She had looked on, admiring the ease with which he worked, confident yet understated. She hoped his demeanor carried as easily into the bedroom.

When he'd finished packing she took his hand and without saying a word led him to her bedroom. Knowing that this was going to happen anyway, that she didn't need to worry about judgment she stripped her clothes and stood in front of him. He leaned in and kissed her. It was a soft, gentle passionate kiss that sent a tingle down her spine. It had been unexpected, but as she kissed him back she realized it was definitely not unwanted. Placing his hand on the small of her back he guided her down on to the bed, their lips never breaking contact. Once they were both lying down, her fully naked and him still fully dressed, his hand started to explore her body. It brushed down the side of her face, traced the length of her neck and briefly came to rest cupping her right breast. Her nipples were fully erect and his thumb gently traced the outline. Over taking by a sudden eagerness she took hold of his hand and moved it from her breast to between her legs. He ran a finder down the length of her vagina and slowly pressed the tip into her. She gasped in delight, both from the pleasurable sensation but also the anticipation that this time she might actually get some attention herself. As his finger started stroking the roof of her pussy he thumb moved over her clitoris. He continued to kiss her passionately, his tongue chasing hers while his finger and thumb stimulated her. Her climax came quickly. She moaned into his mouth as her lower body shuddered.

"Thank you" she whispered.

"I'm not done yet"

And with quick powerful movements he got up moved to the bottom of the bed and with his hands under her thighs he lifted her body weight and pulled her towards the bottom of the bed. Then he knelt on the floor, put his head between her thighs and gently sucked on her clirotis. Her breath rushed out of her lungs in a gasp.

"Oh Fuck!"

His movements were gentle but efficient, in what felt like seconds she felt her body again racing towards orgasm. He didn't make much noise, quietly working between sucking on her clit and working his tongue over and around it. A steady even pace which let her body enjoy the sensation without feeling like it was being lapped at by a thirsty dog. He clearly knew what he was doing and she was loving every second of it,

"Oh Fuck! Jesus! Oh! Mmmmmmmm!"

She came again, her body tensing, waves of pleasure sweeping through her. As the pleasure subsided she breathlessly looked down, she suddenly became self conscious, having let go in the moment she worried she had got too wet, even worse had she cum strong enough for it to get over his face? But he hadn't reacted at all, in fact he was still going. He had eased the pressure a little and had slowed down, but his tongue was still working her clit, As the last of her orgasm started to ebb away she started to reach down to push his head back, she was done. Only before her hand got there he shifted his weight and brought his hand from where it had been resting on her thigh to under his chin. Two fingers gently pushed inside of her, her wetness allowing them to easily press into her, This time instead of her g-spot he was pushing further inside, giving her a fuller feeling and gently penetrating her deeply. His fingertips were stroking somewhere deeper inside, his tongue still all the while gently flicking and teasing her. The orgasm that had moments ago been fading away came charging back at full gallop, only this time it didn't stop when it reached it's previous peak, this time it charged on, an almost unbearable explosion of pleasure started radiating out from between her legs, pulsing and traveling throughout her entire body. It seemed to last for forever, wave after wave spreading through her. She was aware that she had cum flowing from between her lips, but in that moment something that normally mortified her barely registered. She suddenly realized her whole body was tensed and consciously forced it to relax, her muscles easing bringing their own little tingles of relief.

The memories of what happened after that were a little less clear, she had been completely wiped out with the experience. She'd possibly just fallen straight asleep, though she seems to remember thanking him and muttering something about needing to be up early. He'd left and she'd woken up the next morning not entirely convinced it hadn't been a dream. She'd confessed the experience to Lucy one night, a little embarrassed at having sought the services of a gigolo and had been a little shocked when Lucy pointed out she hadn't, because she hadn't paid him. She had never quite been able to reconcile that and had always meant to ask Jane about it, but Jane had left the company the week before to take a contract in Australia, and despite many assurances they would stay in touch she hadn't been able to reach her since.

Sitting on her bed, staring in horror at her phone Sharon tried to bring logic to bare on her current situation. It had been years since that encounter, she hadn't even realized that she still had the number saved. He wouldn't be on the same number, obviously not, but then why not...she was. He wouldn't answer though, it had been 15 years, he wouldn't still be doing it. He'd only been maybe a couple years younger than her. He'd easily be fifty by now. You don't get fifty year old gigolo's do you? Surely not. Her phone screen lit up, another message from Lucy ridiculing her drunken stupidity no doubt.

"Eight o'clock? Same address?"

It was him! She launches her phone to the far end of the bed, as if the act itself will fling the message out of existence. She pulls the covers up to her nose and stares at the phone. It's like she's expecting his voice to magically start coming out from it, or for her phone to leap up and run at her forcing her to accept the reality of what had just happened. After staring at the phone for a solid five minutes without moving she centers herself.

"Fuck this"

Leaving the phone exactly where it landed she gets up and goes for a shower. A few years ago she had treated herself to a new shower, one of the rainfall ones with a big fixed circular shower head that lets the water cascade down a downpour. It also came with a smaller hand held shower head for helping to wash hair and other more difficult to reach areas. As she stood under the steaming shower her mind kept jumping back to that night all those years ago. She had a had a few partners since, and some not unenjoyable sex, but she had never cum like she did that night. She'd never had someone put so much emphasis on her pleasure. All the guys since generally fit into two categories, two pump chumps who were only in it for themselves or enthusiastic but ultimately unskilled lovers who battered away at her nethers like they could brute force the pleasure into her. One or two of them had succeeded in getting her there, but it seemed more luck than judgment, As she reminisced about how Beardy had so skillfully manipulated her pleasure centers she found herself reaching for the smaller detachable shower head. She turned the water onto a pleasantly warm temperature and aims the head between her legs. She knew she was teasing herself, she'd experimented with this before and it had never been enough to get her over the edge but the combination of being lost in the memories and the water tapping against the outside of her pussy lips was a pleasant sensation. She spends a few minutes letting the water do its thing before sighing, replacing the nozzle and finishing showering off. Toweling off, she feels much more alive, the hangover has cleared and she's much more clear headed.

Back in her bedroom she picks out some clothes, a simple dress which she likes because it's black and she thinks it hides her curves, and a pair of light gray leggings. She brushed out her shoulder length black hair, well, gray in truth, but it's only been a week since her last visit to the hairdresser so it is still reassuringly jet black for now. She checks how she looks in the mirror, she much prefers the view when everything is covered up and wry smile crosses her lips.