The Postman of Upper Cockton Pt. 05

It took three years for the fantasy of a foursome between me and Audrey and Clive and Barbara Cavendish to become reality. Barbara was the trophy wife of a successful investment banker. Everything about her was above my pay grade. But that's the appeal, isn't it? A posh totty daydream for a simple lad like me.

The first step to that dream becoming reality was when she invited everybody to a meeting in their big marquee to discuss what we could do after a spate of burglaries by crooks masquerading as parcel delivery men. Barbara was one of those upper middle class English women bred to organise charitable events and dispense comfort in times of crisis. I'd experienced her type before, when the regiment was on disaster relief missions in hell hole failed states. The British Ambassador's wife was often the one to bring belligerent parties together to do something practical. In our case, after dismissing the Crime Prevention Officer with a flea in his ear, Barbara set about organising our little hamlet to care for each other's safety.

When someone said as an ex-military man I might have suggestions, Barbara took my hand and led me to the front of the gathering. "Cometh the hour, cometh the man, Tom." I couldn't refuse. Besides, she was slyly rubbing my palm with her thumb in some sort of erotic Freemasons greeting. She had me off guard when she started squeezing it. That was when I volunteered to take in parcels for Upper Cockton, to prevent delivery vans cruising the neighbourhood. Barbara led the gathering in a rendition of For He's a Jolly Good fellow. She gave me a kiss on the cheek and a smile that said, I can get you to do anything I want because you fancy me, Tom. She had lovely blue eyes and bore a passing resemblance to Princess Diana. What chance did I have?

Since being outmanoeuvred, I'd looked for opportunities to even the score with Barbara Cavendish. I got to know her as she collected parcels for her and Clive. She tried to keep me off guard with her flirtatiousness, but I'd scored a couple of hits. First, with my dancing teacher Audrey who had undergone a stunning transformation since the burglary (see Part 2). She had the face and body of a woman half her age. We were discrete but most people were right to assume a sexual relationship between us. Barbara was jealous that it might diminish my enthusiasm for her even if she had no intention of putting out. Second was when we swapped cars for the weekend and I ended up fucking my ex-wife in the back of Clive's Mercedes and telling him about it (see Part 3). The next time I saw Barbara she looked ready to slap me until she realised she had no grounds, other than jealousy.

The final straw came recently when Barbara strode down the street to confront me while I had my head in the bonnet of the Ford Capri, I'd lent Clive for their weekend jaunt.

"I've got a bone to pick with you Tom."

"A bone you say Barbara?" My smile grew more salacious as she grew more annoyed.

"Really Tom. It's too early in the day for vulgarity. Even for you."

"What have I done to earn your ire this time, Barbara?"

"You must stop using Clive's car as a mobile bordello."

"Ok, Barbara. As long as you do the same. Clive said you found the back seat of the Capri very comfortable."

She reddened. "That bloody man. Wait until I see him. You two are worse than women. Sharing your smut." She handed me a package. "Here are your props back. And a list of the people and cars he promised you."

Clive had taken the Capri to a weekend shoot with some clients on a Norfolk estate. Although the car park was awash with Bentleys and Astons, my humble Capri drew nostalgic envy from old City wide-boys yearning for the toys of their youth. By the end of the weekend, he had a list of commissions for me. Clive phoned on their way home. "It's good business sense, Tom. You get a group of customers who'll fund the purchase and restoration work; and I get happy clients who know Clive Cavendish is a bloke who can make them happy, as well as make them money."

I looked at the list. E-Types and Aston's went for silly money, no matter what state they were in.

"Some of these are specialist restos, Barbara. I won't touch them. Others are possibles. I'll amend the list and you can give it back to Clive. Have you got your phone?"

She followed me into my parcel storeroom where I wrote comments onto the list and photographed it with her phone. "There you go Barbara. I've added my phone number for the blokes who are still interested."

She looked around the room. "I've never been in here before. You take it seriously. CCTV outside, bars on the windows. Alarm on the door. Our parcels are safe with you. Sorry if its cost money. I was not thinking when I strong armed you into volunteering." Her teasing smile said she was anything but sorry. She sat on the table, swinging her legs coquettishly. "Have you got a camera in here, to record all your conquests?"

"What conquests would they be Barbara?"

"Well, there's Audrey. I bet you give her a package when you are dancing. See Tom, I can be crude too."

"I know you can be jealous Barbara. Who else is there?" We were having the conversation that had simmered for two years.

"That ginger haired woman. She's still got the hots for you. (Part 1). She lost all that weight and put it back on since you dumped her. "

How did she know? I thought we'd been discrete. "Susan is a lovely person. I befriended her when she and her husband were going through difficulties, but they've cleared the air and sorted it out. Please don't make trouble Barbara."

"I'm the soul of discretion Tom. Noone heard a word about you and Margot Albrecht from me," (Part 4). Another direct hit. I leaned against the table. "I saw her Tom. Doing the walk of shame back from your house in the early hours. I opened the curtain and I watched her go by. Not an ounce of embarrassment. Her look said, `I'm fucking him, Barbara. What are you going to do about it?'"

"Well, what are you going to do about it, Barbara? What do you expect of me?" As half a dozen responses fizzed in her head, competing for words, I kissed her. She responded to my tongue in her mouth until a sense of propriety said she should resist and she pushed me away. Barbara's face was flushed. She was as excited as I was.

"You are not going to fuck me across this table Tom. I won't become one of your conquests."

"You better tell them then." Her nipples stood out on her white tee shirt.

She scowled and childishly covered her tits. I took her face in my hands and kissed her again. She moaned. Her body would not obey the instructions she'd given me.

Barbara squirmed on the table. "Stop Tom. You are making me wet." I leaned against the table and her legs opened. I grasped her hips and pulled her towards me. We groaned as her pussy met my cock head through our clothes. The heat was incredible. I was so tempted to just take her then. Luckily, I'd thought through the implications beforehand. I had a plan.

"I won't fuck you across this table Barbara. I'll only fuck you with Clive's permission. He's a friend and it would be rude otherwise. I won't let him go without either. Audrey has agreed she'll play, if you invite us. Oh yes, and we must all be in the same room. No sneaking about. It's bad manners." There it was, out in the open. A solution to her dilemma. All she had to do was admit it.

Barbara was miffed. "What are you talking about Tom? Do you think we are swingers?"

"I know you have parties with other couples. I see their expressions on the CCTV camera as they drive out of Upper Cockton." She opened her mouth to object, so I kissed her again. She sighed. Barbara was out of denials.

"Ok Tom. We have a lot of parties. It's where business gets done in Clive's world." She looked away, momentarily embarrassed. "Some may get a bit out of hand, but only with people we know very well. We've never partied with people in the village. Have you really discussed this with Audrey?"

"She knows me and she's got a good idea about you. Audrey would rather we were not sneaking around behind her back, or Clive's."

"She's a smart arse. I guess you get wisdom at her age. Not that Clive cares about that. He's horny for her. The bastard."

"Then its settled Barbara. Put it to Clive and let me know what you decide. You've had a narrow escape. You should be pleased."

Barbara was determined to have the last word. "I want to take a picture of you in that hat. After all, you took pictures of me." She gave me her sexy pout. I opened the package and put on the black peaked hat and kid leather gloves. "Not with those overalls Tom. Pull them down."

I pulled the overalls over my shoulders and knotted them around my waist, so just my white tee shirt was in the shot. Barbara showed me the snaps on her phone. "Ha. I look just like the blokes out of The Full Monty. I saw you made Clive wear the hat when he drove you around like Lady Penelope?"

"That bloody camera. You don't miss a thing do you, Tom? Clive was all fired up after your smutty talk. He had to try it himself. Do you really think I'm Lady Penelope?" Barbara laughed, pleased at the comparison with the aristocratic puppet.

"Absolutely Barbara. Lady Penelope gave me my first erection when I was too young to know what it was."

"You say the sweetest things Tom. Tell me what happened when you wore the hat for Linda?"

Barbara had not come down from her narrow escape and I was still nursing a semi. I wondered how far this would go.

"I got the idea when Clive turned up for our swap with that big Mercedes S-Class limo. He had a complimentary 48 hour trial to tempt him at his next trade in. I sent Linda a picture and text saying `Your limo, if you can get away this weekend'. Before I turned up, I sent her a message, `Pretend you don't know me'."

She nodded. "I wish Clive had your imagination when we did it. What were you both wearing?"

"I wore a grey suit, white shirt and black tie. I wore the hat like this." I pushed the peak down to an angle known only to RSM's.

Barbara held my shoulders and pulled me closer. "I can't see your eyes, Tom. It's intimidating in a sexy way. Did Linda like it?"

"She knows this hat well. It's from my dress uniform. Minus the band and badge. I wore it when we got married. On our wedding night, I fucked her just wearing this hat and these gloves. Linda wore her veil and white shoes." I grabbed Barbara by the hips and her legs circled my waist, pulling me against her cunt.

"Oh my god, Tom!" The image was in her mind, where I wanted it. I kissed her. "Stop Tom, you'll make me cum."

She hung on to me as I whispered in her ear. "I drove Linda around for a while, then she said, `Driver, I don't have any money to pay for this ride.' I said we could work it out, if she was willing to pay the price. She said, `I can't ask my husband, I'll have to do whatever you ask.'"

Barbara looked up, glazed eyes replaying the images in her mind. One hand was pinching her nipples. "You two are good. I bet you weren't that good when you were married."

I nodded. "We don't have married people's sex anymore. We don't want it. I drove to a quiet place in the forest and got in the back. She made me undress. Naked but for the hat and gloves." Barbara breathed rapidly. Her hand was between her legs. "She liked the feel of the gloves on her skin." I caressed her face and neck. Barbara swooned. "Then I undressed her. Do you want to know what she was wearing, Barbara? What I'd instructed her to wear."

She nodded. Her intuition got it before the words left my mouth.

"Linda was wearing a beige safari dress with buttons down the front and an Alice band to hold her blonde hair back."

Her eyes opened wide. "I've got a beige safari dress and I wear an Alice band." I nodded. "You bastard Tom. You dressed your ex-wife up like me and fucked her in the back of my husband's car.

"Yes, I did Barbara. And I've never cum so much."

That did it. She ground her cunt against my cock as she came with a shudder. Barbara buried her head in my chest as the tremors subsided. I tilted her chin up to kiss her. She looked like a wild woman. "Take these fucking gloves off Tom." When my hands were bare, she lifted her skirt and put my hand in her knickers. She was swimming. I found her clitoris, and she came again. "Oh, God Tom. I've lost all control." I lifted her onto the table and pushed her skirt up. The wet white knickers put up a fight, but lost. Barbara had a beautiful pussy. Plump pouting lips and pink wetness nestling in neatly trimmed blonde pubes. I pushed her legs back and her lips opened. My head was soon between them. My long teasing strokes from the cute nub of her arse hole to her prominent clit had Barbara mouthing erotic obscenities, made more sensual in her cut glass accent.

"Suck my cunt, Tom. Put your nose in. Lick my clit round and round. Harder, that's it." In my best wank fantasy about Barbara, I never dreamed she could be like this. She tensed again, and I went to work on her g-spot with two fingers. "No Tom, I cum too hard like that. It gives me headaches. Please, no. Oh my god." Barbara spasmed and pushed my fingers out. A huge squirt of juice followed, splashing the table and my tee shirt."

She rolled into the fetal position and wept. "You made me cum on your table like a cheap slut, after I promised myself I would not be another of your conquests."

I held her until she calmed down. "I didn't fuck you, Barbara. I kept my promise." I felt pretty pleased with myself.

She slapped my chest. "Shut up, Tom." Barbara reached between my legs where my overalls stuck out comically. "Get on this table Tom, I want to see your cock." She was in no mood for disobedience and soon had my overalls around my ankles and weighed my cock and balls in each hand. "No wonder bloody Audrey has a smile like the Sphinx if she's getting stuffed with this brute. Clive will complain if you stretch me." She licked the head and fed me into her mouth. "I can't take it all Tom." The way I was moaning told Barbara she was doing a good enough job. She teased me to the brink several times until I begged her to let me cum.

She'd reestablished the natural order of our relationship. Me wanting her and Barbara letting me know she could do anything she wanted with me. She threw a leg over my face. "Make me cum again before I leave here you fucker. "I felt her hair tickling my cock and moments later her lips enclosing the head. Then I was there. Pumping all my spunk into that beautiful mouth as I held her lovely hair out of the way. She bucked on my face and my tongue slipped to her arse and into the hole. Barbara spasmed and another wet gush soaked my face and neck.

Afterwards, we snuck into my house to clean up. I sat Barbara on the edge of the bath while I dabbed her face and body with a wet flannel. "I must have been an infant last time someone cleaned me like this." I was between her splayed thighs wiping the calves where her juice had run down, soaking the ankle ties of her espadrilles.

I looked up at her, watching my work. "What are you going to tell Clive?"

"I'm going to tell him I teased you and you made me cum, but you didn't fuck me. I won't dwell on the details."

I marvelled at her editing. "I'll tell Audrey the truth. She likes the details."

Barbara borrowed a brush and set about repairing the damage to her immaculate hair. Once she decided she didn't look like a woman who'd spent the morning fucking, she made me drive her the two-minute journey home. She left me her wet knickers as a souvenir. What a nice lady.

I didn't hear from Barbara for a few weeks. They were in the middle of their social season. Clive popped around a couple of times to talk cars and reassure me what happened between me and Barbara changed nothing. "Occupational hazard Tom. I don't blame you at all. Barbara wants men to want her. Even if she does not want them. Now you are with Audrey, and half the village, if I'm to believe the things Barbara accuses you of, your interest is more valuable to her. I warned her not to provoke you. She's lucky you didn't fuck her. Or unlucky, as she obviously wants to. Are you sure Audrey is up for a little private dancing, just the four of us? She's in amazing shape for an older woman."

I guess that is how the British upper classes stay in control. No reason to fall out with a chap just because he's fucked your wife. You might be fucking his next week.

#

I had opening night nerves before we set off for Clive and Barbara's on dance night. "It's only a minute away, but I'm glad we're in the car. I could not walk out in this outfit."

Audrey laughed. "Relax Thomas. This is show business."

She was not joking. Audrey had a brainwave when Clive said they wanted to practise Latin American dances. I was wearing a black see-through shirt over a chest she insisted on shaving earlier. `Show your nipples, Thomas. I want Barbara to gag for you.' She'd greased my black wavy hair and slicked it back. Then she made me up to emphasise my cheekbones and dark eyes. I protested I looked like a background dancer from Chicago/ a Strictly reject/ a gigolo/ a Latin pimp from central casting, and any other objection that came to mind. But when Barbara opened the door, she almost came on the spot.

"See Thomas. I told you Barbara would like it." Score one for team Audrey.

Clive said I was a good sport for allowing Audrey to go to town on me. He took her coat and gasped at her tango outfit that stunned me the first time I saw it. (Part 2). Barbara's nice blue cocktail dress was too demure to drag eyes off Audrey.

Barbara sniffed. "I'm going to change into something more appropriate. Clive, take that dinner jacket and bow tie off. You look like a waiter. Everybody, help yourselves to smoked salmon and champagne."

We were in their orangery, an airy four-metre square room with a chequerboard tiled floor, cleared of furniture save for a two chaise lounges and a white piano, on top of which sat our food and drink. While we waited for Barbara, I showed Clive Audrey's photo album (Part 2). It impressed him, as it had me. We didn't turn as Barbara reappeared.

"Look at these photos Barbara. Audrey danced at the Moulin Rouge and in Las Vegas." Clive's enthusiasm was spoiling her entrance.

"Why don't you look at your own wife, Clive?"

We all turned and gave Barbara the reaction she wanted. She'd changed into a little red silk dress, which Audrey said afterwards was just a slip. Spaghetti straps held the fragile garment on her shoulders. She looked naked underneath, save for black hold up seamed stockings and red strappy stiletto sandals. Her hair was up in a large butterfly clip to emphasise her long neck. Dark eye shadow and fire engine red lipstick said she was not taking prisoners this evening.

This was another version of her. "You look stunning Barbara. Clive is a very lucky man."

"Thank you, Tom. Clive, you can gorp and speak at the same time, you know."

"Yes darling. You look sensational."

"Well done, Barbara. You have dancers' legs. Are you sure you have had no training?"

Barbara smiled at Audrey's acknowledgement. She had her own cards to play.

We started with an East Coast Swing, not strict Latin, but an ice breaker to get us going. We danced with our own partners. The cat was out of the bag by the Cha Cha Cha.

"I have danced before Audrey, at boarding school. Of course, it was all with girls until we were sixteen." Barbara was lithe and fluid with her moves.

We did a Rumba with our partners before Audrey told me to dance a Salsa with Barbara. I couldn't concentrate. The feel of Barbara's body in my arms. The erection I was trying to control and the looks she was giving me. Daring me to fuck her in front of Clive and Audrey. I was moving like a complete novice.