Three Encounters of the Close Kind

An antiques fair, that popular mainstay of English weekends, held at venues across the country ranging from opulent stately homes to tatty village halls. Where stallholders display their treasures and genteel haggling ensues, albeit many of the goods aren't yet over 100 years old and consequently not genuine antiques. In Harry's opinion, much of what's on sale is fit only for car boot sales or skips. Despite this, such pop-up markets are a happy hunting ground for the analogue wind-up watches he seeks.

As Harry makes an initial reconnoitre, careful not to show untoward interest - doesn't want sellers putting up prices, he repeatedly glimpses a shapely female in his peripheral vision. On a subsequent circuit, she's frequently one step in front or one step behind him. Harry discreetly makes a closer assessment of the lady, who is wearing a fitted 1940s coat over a retro blouse and skirt, accessorised with a period-authentic hat, handbag, gloves and shoes, even her stockings have seams. No mere enthusiast, the femme fatale has opted for a full-on, post-war sartorial ensemble, French chic meets Hollywood starlet. Eventually, as both peruse the same stall, he speaks up to admire her outfit and suggests they adjourn for coffee, an invitation the mystery woman readily accepts. The country house hosting the sale has a cafe and they're soon ensconced in a corner, americano for him, cappuccino for her and both eating lemon drizzle cake, its consumption apparently compulsory on Sunday afternoons throughout the UK.

"So, what would you like to know about me?" Sat opposite him at a low table, his hitherto mysterious companion quizzically raises an eyebrow and crosses her legs with a deliciously suggestive swish of nylon.

"As much as you care to reveal," replies Harry, already fascinated.

In a Scottish-tinged accent, Julie - they're already on first-name terms - explains she's attending the event to purchase vintage apparel for an increasingly lucrative online side hustle, whereas her husband's hobby is classic cars. Increasingly living different lives of late, and bored by the other's interests, they've arrived at a compromise, separately attending car shows and collector's fairs and taking a hotel room if the event is far from home. An arrangement based not so much on trust as don't ask, don't tell...

Julie favours him with a dazzling smile. Her blonde hair is a little below chin length and Harry notices fine wrinkles around her eyes. Taking a bright red lipstick from her bag, puckering and pouting into a small compact mirror, she retouches her lips and applies mascara with a tiny brush. Make-up repaired to her satisfaction, Julie, a very model of self-possession, leans forward, puts a hand on his knee and enquires politely of Harry.

"Now, tell me all about yourself."

All, no chance. However, Harry does vouchsafe some carefully curated information: Collecting and repairing old-fashioned watches is a welcome respite from his high-powered, unspecified, day job. No, he is not currently in a relationship and, unlike her husband, does not - as Julie candidly reveals: "Own a bloody old Jaguar that gets serviced more often than I do these days, darling. What a waste, a woman my age is in her sexual prime."

"Duly noted," responds Harry, much amused, "although it doesn't fully explain why you were following me?" Significantly, Julie doesn't deny it.

"Initially, because of your clothes."

"They're not vintage?"

"No, but traditionally styled, good quality and cut, worn by someone who clearly considers how he dresses."

"I decided a while back that a man approaching - painful to admit - middle age, can't always wear jeans, hoodies and trainers."

"Well, whatever image you're trying to project, it certainly set my pulse racing." Julie lays her cards on the table. "Plus, if my intuition is correct, and it frequently is, you're a gentleman."

"And you a lady, hence the stylish outfit?"

"Sadly, for practical reasons, this nostalgic garb is for weekends only. I love the fabrics and adore the tailoring. Wearing them is akin to method acting and seems to subtly alter my personality. I become a different person and do things I'd never normally consider. This afternoon, for example. I saw you and suddenly wondered what it'd be like to be fucked by such a gorgeous man."

Julie cuts to the chase. "Hoped my seductive allure might prove sufficient to attract you and I could find out for myself."

"You think that's going to happen?" Harry attempts to play it cool, but inwardly can't believe his luck. Fucked not fuck - a telling, he suspects deliberate, choice of words.

"I'm absolutely, 100% sure it will. High time a classy guy took a sophisticated gal back to her hotel room."

Once there, without taking her eyes off Harry, Julie unhurriedly removes her coat, followed by gloves, scarf and hat; everything folded and placed in a neat pile. Sashays, the combination of high heels and sort carpet making her hips sway suggestively, towards him. Undoes her skirt and lets it fall to the floor. Twirls slowly to showcase a perfect, French knicker-covered bottom framed by stockings and suspenders.

"Classic underwear, too?" asks Harry.

"Alas not," Julie answers huskily, removing her blouse to reveal a flimsy silk chemise. Rising onto tiptoes, she kisses him hard, tongue darting between his lips, bosom pressed warmly against Harry's chest - nipples already erect as, predictably, is his manhood. Momentarily pausing their embrace, Harry slides Julie's blue silk panties down to the tops of her nylons. In response, she takes his hand and pushes it into the apex of her legs.

"You're wet," observes Harry, approvingly.

"Have been for the last hour, squeezing my thighs together in the cafe to contain my arousal." His finger slides easily between slick labia, thumb rotating on her clit making Julie groan with desire. "I need you inside me," she prompts, and Harry swiftly obliges, laying her on the bed, blue eyes shining, mouth provocatively open. Delighted by her enthusiasm, Harry discards his clothes, remembering that a gentleman always removes his socks first.

"We can do the fancy stuff later," Julie says forthrightly, "right now, missionary is fine." To neither's surprise, his cock enters her fully in a single thrust. "Oh...yes, so good! You feel so big in my pussy," she says. Eagerly encompassing his length, Julie tilts her pelvis to force Harry deeper. "Faster," she demands, and he increases the pace. Sensing an orgasm building Julie decides to embrace it, languid sex is lovely but sometimes a girl just wants to get off. She hears Harry groan then feels him come, her earlier question has been answered. Julie now knows what it's like to be fucked by this man. Sublime, and, if she has any influence in the matter this is only the start. Suffused with post-climactic pleasure, the pair plan a date for their subsequent encounter.

Encounter Two

Julie and Harry next meet at a vintage convention coincidently held near his home. It's a sunny summer day and his temptress wears a classic 1950s tea dress, the topmost buttons undone to show a provocative amount of cleavage. Her legs are bare and painted toenails peek from wedge-heel sandals. With the sun behind her, Julie's body is enticingly silhouetted through the thin cotton material. In contrast, Harry is dressed down in classic blue jeans and a white T-shirt.

They survey the stalls together, neither finding anything much to attract their interest until both sets of eyes simultaneously alight on a classic wooden Mason Pearson hairbrush, perched upon its original box. Julie looks meaningfully at Harry, a moment of synchronicity, both entertaining the same naughty thought. He makes the purchase and throughout the rest of their browsing, Julie is unable to concentrate on anything else.

"Just a joke, right? I mean you wouldn't really," she finally voices the jumbled thoughts racing through her mind.

"Wouldn't what?" Harry feigns ignorance.

"Spank my bottom, with that." There she's said it out loud, in public (albeit very quietly). Followed by an adrenalin rush of excitement, pussy moistening at the thought of what may ensue.

"I most certainly would." Harry is unambiguous.

"It's a sexy idea but...." Julie appears nervous. Harry wisely says nothing. "I mean it might hurt..." Another silence. "Can I change my mind?" Julie enquires sheepishly.

"No." Without asking, he decisively takes her hand, "Enough prevaricating, come with me, young lady." Okay, she'll take young, even if that ship has long since sailed, Letting him make the decisions - and she suspects leading her astray - is thrilling.

Inevitably they adjourn to his place, where Harry pulls Julie across his knee, no point in pretext, both know what's going to happen.

'You won't smack me very hard, will you?" Julie asks anxiously, peering over her shoulder with an expression combining sultry innocence and knowing lust. Harry takes this as his cue, understands Julie is play-acting at being coerced into compliance but is unable to shake the thought he's once again been cleverly manoeuvred into delivering exactly what she wants.

Julie has genuinely never been spanked before but read and enjoyed enough erotica to predict Harry's opening gambit. Skirt up, knickers down and bottom bared. Such a magnificent derriere, muses Harry, enjoying the ritual of its exposure.

Sensing he has a novice over his lap, Harry prudently takes things gradually. His hand moves to the triangle between her legs, gently caressing the silky skin on the inside of Julie's thighs; an action eliciting blissful moans from his acquiescent lover, who shivers in anticipation. Proceeding with practised ease, Harry pulls her panties completely off, creating a palpable tension; strokes her cheeks, then mildly spanks them with the recently purchased hairbrush. Julie gasps and wriggles and is sternly told to remain still. Failing to comply she gives an involuntary squeal as he raises his hand and applies the polished wood to her right buttock, hard enough to leave a residual red mark. Harry then delivers a similarly ringing blow to its counterpart. More follow, alternating between Julie's jiggling moons, rendering them warm to the touch. He increases the force and tempo of the impacts, causing purrs of pleasure to transform into yelps of discomfort as the cumulative smart of the bare bottom spanking becomes all too evident.

No need to overdo things on the first try, thinks Harry, because, judging by her squirms and gasps, Julie is evidently very turned on, ready and eager for sex. Harry reverently caresses her glowing globes, delving between taut thighs to finger her slick pussy

"I hope you intend to give me a proper seeing too," she whispers.

"Of course, no sense in being spanked if you don't then get fucked," confirms Harry, "now get onto your knees." Julie scrambles to comply, excited to be urged onto all fours, secretly her favourite sexual position. Grasping the shaft of his cock, Harry inserts it into her honeyed haven while Julie pushes back lewdly to aid its entry and gasps with pleasure, penetrated to the hilt. Inch by delicious inch Harry eases inside Julie's warm and welcoming sex, his size making her gasp. Building a rhythm, Harry steadily fucks her until the intense sensory and emotional stimulation becomes almost too much for Julie to endure. Head down, grasping the duvet, back arched and bottom raised submissively, she cries out as wave after ecstatic wave flows through her body, her orgasm triggering Harry's pent-up climax.

"I'm going to shoot deep inside, are you ready?"

"Yes, do it, fill me up" she yells, body shaking, vagina gripping him tightly to milk his cock as he triumphantly comes.

"Wow!" cries Julie jubilantly, collapsing contentedly onto the bed.

At which point her phone pings. Julie instinctively picks it up and gasps in horror, jolted from her satiated state by a text message.

"Oh, Harry," she gasps, come still oozing down her trembling thighs. "It's my husband. The car show was cancelled at the last minute. He's only 30 minutes away and wants to meet me at my hotel." Understandably Julie's exit is, to say the least, rushed. She dashes into the bathroom to wash away the traces of their uninhibited coupling, rapidly repairs her hair and make-up and with a regretful glance and hasty kiss, departs.

"Be sure to let me know you're okay," says Harry. Two hours later he receives a terse message.

"All good," followed by nothing, nearly two weeks of nothing.

Encounter Three

Days pass, the unsought hiatus in their relationship lengthens and Harry grows increasingly concerned. Although sparing in his attempts to get in contact - not wishing to accidentally out Julie to her spouse, he misses her terribly.

Finally, a call from an unfamiliar number arrives out of the blue.

"Sorry to disappear for so long," says Julie, "to allay any suspicion I had to cool it and play the doting wife for a while."

"He didn't find out?"

"I think he's suspicious but won't push things as he knows I also suspect him of playing away."

"Thought you two had a live and let live agreement?"

"We do, rather one-sided as it turns out. Seems his last weekend away was abruptly curtailed because his 'companion' didn't show. I was the second-best option, hardly flattering."

"A close call," agrees Harry, "how did you conceal the evidence of spanking from your husband?"

"Mainly because he was 'hot to trot' and had me on my back in a trice. Didn't seem to notice I'd recently taken a cock up there and didn't last long either, unlike you. I guess it all adds a thrilling frisson to life, speaking of which, are you free next weekend?"

"You want to continue meeting?" Harry can't conceal his delight.

"Of course! You're the best thing that's happened in years."

"Where's the antiques fair?"

"London - I've already booked a room. Looking forward to it."

They meet in the hotel bar, any pretext of attending the retro sale immediately abandoned by unspoken consent. Since the place is rather upmarket, Harry wears a well-cut suit. Julie models a fetching and authentic 1960s outfit. Headband, pleated skirt, and stilettos - all in matching white, tan nylons and a striped top.

Another day, another hotel room and as soon as the door closes, Julie's red lips meet Harry's in a fiercely passionate kiss, making up for her enforced absence. His hands circle her trim waist, her arms around his neck, each irresistibly attracted to the other.

"Oh," she gasps excitedly as Harry touches her breasts, thumb rubbing an erect nipple through the fabric of her top. Unbidden, Julie lifts it to reveal a lacey bra and the smooth swell of her boobs. He gently kisses each in turn and Julie moans, arousal rising exponentially as Harry sucks each stiff nipple into his mouth, increasing the pressure, tugging with his lips then sucking again. Electric sensations ripple through her body, only to cease abruptly as Julie is pushed roughly back onto the bed.

Defiantly Julie pokes out her tongue and, watching him with a cheeky expression, slips a finger into her panties and into her honeypot, only for it to emerge seconds later gleaming with her juices. Looking directly at Harry, she raises the digit to her mouth and sucks it suggestively. Spurred into action, his large hands spread her thighs wide, parting dewy labia to slide two digits into a damply accommodating pussy.

"I want you now," holding his shaft with one hand, Julie reverses their positions, sits astride him and sinks onto Harry, enveloping his pulsing member in a satin-soft embrace. Harry moves his cock leisurely up and down, pulling out a few inches and then sliding back in, enjoying the sight of Julie's lovely face as she surrenders to the moment. She counters with a gentle rocking motion designed to increase the friction as her clitoris rubs against him. Eyes shut and euphoric, Julie moans uninhibitedly, red-painted nails digging into his shoulder.

"Turn around," instructs Harry. Puzzled, she obediently rotates into a reverse cowgirl pose from where he tips Julie sideways on the bed. Harry is now behind her in a spoons position and, miraculously, throughout these acrobatics, Julie remains impaled on his impressive erection.

"Look over there," says Harry and Julie gasps at their lewd exhibition reflected in a large mirror, "Got a good view?"

"The absolute best and so very wicked, I can see your lovely big dick stretching my pussy."

"It's like starring in our own adult movie," observes Harry, pistoning in and out of her shaven haven. The two continue to watch transfixed as they fuck, increasing momentum, teetering on the brink of a crescendo until Julie is overtaken by a noisy, full-tilt, hair-swinging, head-shaking orgasm. Momentarily dazed, It dawns on her that Harry hasn't yet peaked.

'"Keep going baby, I want to feel you come."

"Take... it... all..." Pumping hard, Harry attains his release, holding Julie close as her body trembles in his arms, long after his cock has slid out from inside her. Time stops and they slump into a tangled, post-orgasmic reverie.

"Think you might ever want slow, sensual sex"? Harry enquires with a complicit grin, breathing hard after their exertions.

"Sure, when you've finally banged months of frustration out of me," Julie is relaxed and content. "Maybe next time I'll get some weed and we can have a lazy, hazy 1970s stoner fuck, since I've already got a suitable outfit and we're working through the decades. After that, we'll have to find a new hobby as an excuse for two horny people to hook up. No way am I wearing '80s shoulder pads, and how many watches does any man need?"