You Got a Friend Ch. 02

Chapter 2: Thanks to the Sat Nav

The Tinsley viaduct was closed southbound, the Radio 5 Live announcer said.

"Damn," I thought. But it happens regularly so I just switched on the Sat Nav and let it find me a back way, round Sheffield over the moors to the west. It's a lengthy diversion but still quicker than sitting waiting for a major foul up on the M1 to be cleared. Anyway it is a pleasant route on a mild autumn afternoon and being Friday and the end of my work week I had no particular time pressure.

It wasn't until I was driving through a small town that something looked familiar. Suddenly I remembered that this was where we had the abortive marketing conference last June and where I had met Mary.

We had chatted by e mail and MSN a few times but I was busy, her computer skills were limited and neither of us was sure what, if anything, we wanted to develop. In short nothing quite clicked and the friendship had fizzled out after a few weeks.

But she had been friendly and accommodating; up to a point. On the spur of the moment I turned right. I didn't have a full address but it wasn't difficult to find her street. Finding the exact house was more of a problem. We had come over the derelict allotments at the back and it was pitch dark when I left her at the back gate. I had never seen the front of the house.

But I found an alleyway that led round the back of the row of 1930s council semis and thought I had identified Mary's. I was wrong. When I knocked at the battered back door a taller, slimmer woman answered.

In my line of work I have been in too many awkward situations to be embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I think I've got the wrong house. I'm looking for Mary," I explained politely but confidently. My aplomb seemed to offend her at first. She was going to slam the door but then recognition dawned in her eyes. "You're the bloke what got off with her in the Rose n' Crown that time, ain't yer?" Her voice placed her. The brassy tart who worked with Mary and had introduced us then left us in the lurch when her boyfriend got into a scrap.

Bingo! That meant she must know Mary and presumably where she lived. I confirmed that I was Steve.

She asked me in to her scruffy, untidy living room and offered me tea in a chipped, stained mug. She sat next to me, far too close for a casual acquaintance, on her saggy old sofa, asked me for a fag and when I didn't have one lit her own, crossed her legs and let her short red skirt ride a long way up her laddered black stockings.

Maybe this wasn't going to be such a good idea, I thought to myself. To her I explained that I was just passing through but if it was inconvenient, or Mary didn't want to see me again, then no hard feelings.

What might have happened if her kids hadn't burst in after school who knows? But they did.

"Mary's on days this week." Her friend said. "She'll be back any minute. It's number twenty three if you want to hang around. She'd luv to see ya again."

It didn't sound like she either knew or cared if this was true and it was said to get rid of me before the kids started asking questions. So I was getting into the car to go on home when I saw Mary coming down the street. OK so the first part was true, I realised. It was time to find out about the second bit. "Hi, Mary" I said cheerfully trying to sound casual. "Remember me?"

She was miles away and took a minute to collect her thoughts. That gave me an opportunity to take stock. She obviously had come straight from work as she was still wearing her pink and white checked, button fronted overall. It didn't flatter her tubby, buxom figure. But I was also aware that she still had the thick, soft, dark brown tresses that I had so enjoyed, a fresh natural complexion and, what a relief, a beaming smile.

"Come on in and tell me what you are doing here," she said. Her home was a pleasant contrast to her friend's. There was a neat, colourful front garden and inside everything reflected her personality; un-pretentious but clean, fresh and homely.

We sat side by side on her sofa. It was old but comfortable with a nice floral print throw over it. She didn't crowd me or come on strong but still made me feel welcome with a cup of tea and chocolate biscuits. "You know I'm fat so I'm going to enjoy them," she said tucking into the latter. She was lively and easy to talk to about everyday things and I began to relax

"I'll bet your hungry, aren't you after all that business?" she said. I'll pop something in the oven for us then I'll go up and change. That OK?"

I agreed and watched through the archway as she bustled about in the kitchen. She had a country girl's practicality and it didn't take long to make a shepherds pie. "Come on up and we can talk while I get ready," she said on her way upstairs.

She went into the bathroom to strip off and shower leaving me sitting on her bed. She left the door open and carried on chatting. But she had made it clear last time that she set the limits and I wasn't going into the bathroom unless invited.

I was curious and couldn't help nosing around. The room was neat and feminine with a big double bed and a pine suite. The only photo was of elderly parents on the bedside table. There was no evidence of a boyfriend or children. I began carefully to ask about her background.

Her father had died of cancer years ago when she was a teenager. I could sympathise with that. I had been through the same thing and knew the hole it leaves. Having that much in common brought us closer. Her mother had lived with Mary until her death last Christmas. That explained the size of the house. It was also a point of difference. Mary had been close to her mother. I never was. In fact we hadn't spoken for over 20 years before her death. I had hoped to resolve the issues before her passing but the end came suddenly when I was abroad on a business trip and we never were reconciled. Why I told Mary this when I have never discussed it with anyone else I don't know. Perhaps it was because she was a good listener or perhaps we were both just lonely and working our way towards each other.

She came out of the bathroom fully dressed, somewhat to my disappointment.

"Why didn't you come in?" she asked blushing a little at the nerve of her own suggestion.

I decided to confront the issue head on because I respected her essential honesty. "I didn't want to assume anything." I explained. "Last time you set the limits, remember?"

"Oh Steve. I'm sorry about that. Really I am. You were great. Most guys would have gone on regardless. It was my fault. I shouldn't have led you on. I'd had a few and it was so romantic out in the open. I guess I got carried away. It felt so good but I don't want a baby. I'm not daft. I've seen enough gals get caught with a kid on their own round here. Look at June. She was pretty once but she's got three. None of the dads stopped with her and look at her now. What chance have I got?" She finished, her voice tailing off, and looking at herself in the dressing table mirror and brushing her beautiful hair in long, sweeping, defiant strokes.

"Thanks for being straight with me, Mary," I told her. "I know where you are coming from. Anyway it wasn't your fault. I wanted you. Come to that I want you again. You look great."

She blushingly denied this. But actually she did. She had chosen a black skirt, quite tight and quite short but not tarty and a simple lilac sleeveless woollen top.

Embarrassed by my appraisal she told me "Something smells good. Let's eat."

"Sounds good to me then we'll see what happens eh!" I said with a wink.

I was really hungry and she was a great cook but my mind soon returned to other things especially when she suggested going to the woods for a stroll. She wanted to take advantage of me having a car but I didn't mind. It was a lovely spot and brought back welcome memories, her warm, comfortable roly poly waist under my arm, her hand big and calloused from the vegetables she packed all day but still somehow gentle, our hips touching with an intimacy that suggested few layers of clothing and the fresh scent of her hair.

She liked flowers and stopped to pick many wild ones, sometimes going off the path and into the bushes in search of rarer specimens. We were squatting side by side under a tree in a little clearing when I found some wild blackberries hidden in the undergrowth. "Hey look at these," I called to her.

Mary turned quickly She had so little experience with boyfriends that she knew no other way to start things off than a knicker flash. Last time had been an accident but this seemed more deliberate judging by her choice of underwear. She already knew I liked lavender. That scent in her white cuties had first turned me on last time. Anyway I could clearly see lavender skimpy lace panties clinging suggestively to the curves of her front. She was smooth like last time and I wondered if she would look and taste the same too.

"Déjà vu," I said. She tittered nervously, stood up and made her way back to the path and the car perhaps ashamed that I had seen through her artifice so quickly.

On the way home we stopped at an off licence. She refused wine or lager saying she was nervous of loosing control. We settled for fruit juice and chocolate and I managed to slip a packet of Durex into the pile without her noticing. Back home she reached again into her limited repertoire and put some smoochie music on. I didn't mind. Our tastes were similar and with no fear of interruptions such as had ended the night in the Rose and Crown we could explore. She was 33 then but the few guys she had been with had been one way usage and she knew very little about a man's body.

To start with I showed her how to take off my shirt. That was quite deliberate. I wanted to equal the odds and break down her inferiority complex about her body. I knew it would help because I have a big, conspicuous scar right across my chest. It is the legacy of a motor racing accident which caused my sternum to collapse and a titanium rod being inserted to secure it back into position. It doesn't hurt but restricts the flexibility of my upper body movement a little and it is hardly beautiful. I showed it to Mary, explained what had happened and got her to touch it. Her fingers were gentle, sympathetic and a turn on.

This time I lifted her top, enjoying the warm, natural feel of her skin and playing with the rolls of her belly, tickling and pinching to make her squirm and ease the garment further up. Eventually it revealed a purple, satin half cup bra. I knew she was shy about her breasts but God they were beautiful, huge, full of colour and squeezed up and together by the bra, leaving just a deep, dark, mysterious canyon in between.

I wanted to worship them with my hands and tongue. First I needed to remove her bra. I switched off the light, lit a candle and muttered incantations pretending to be a priest. She loved that and surrendered gladly.

Then we danced to an old Bryan Adams track, long and slow and sensuous. I rubbed her breasts all over my chest, controlling them with pressure from my hands on her back. Their weight, warmth and cuddliness was unbelievable. She picked up the trick using her hands to guide my chest. The moments when she stretched up in her high heels and our nipples met were electric, like forked lightning going down through my loins and sending my cock surging against her skirt.

That scared her as it had last time and I stepped back and cupped her left breast. It needed both hands and my thumbs were at full stretch pointing towards each other to find her tit. She had aureoles the size of a 50pence piece and amazingly sensitive. I moved my thumb tips in crescents round each side and drove her crazy. "Ahhhh! That's so good," she moaned.

"Wait. This will be better," I told her and lifted her whole breast, all two kilograms of pure woman and fed her tit into my reaching, hungry mouth. I sucked and nipped it until it was like a currant cake. I could feel every little goose bump she was so horny.

We both needed to get our breath back. As the God of music would have it the next track on her Love Collection CD was Billie Joe Spears "Blanket on the Ground". We danced at arms length for a minute, looking into each other's eyes, registering each other's need. Then we closed in. The track is too fast for real smooching so I eased my hand over her waist and onto her bottom to guide the swinging of her hips.

I hadn't realised until then that her skirt was split at the back. But my fingertips found out and found the way in. Playing with her big, surprisingly firm, very lightly pantied buttocks was lovely. It made her giggle like a young girl especially when I tweaked the elastic and drew her panties tight against her pussy lips.

I have no ego about being the best stud in the world and for me the most important thing is for a woman to show how much I am turning her on. Equally I want my woman to know how she is turning me on.

"Look at me, darling," I said kindly but firmly when the dance finished. I stood back, shimmied my trousers and underpants down and stood proud in front of her. "Tell me what you think, honestly."

"I can't believe it is for me," she whispered.

"Oh it is for you baby, all of it." I told her. "Come here."

She came and took it in one hand, fingers barely gripping. It throbbed to her gossamer touch and feeling that she began to rub up and down. Of course it was level with the waist of her skirt and parallel to her vagina, eager to get in.

I eased her closer, unzipped the back of her skirt, and pushed it over her broad hips. She let it fall and I pressed my cock against her panties. That forced her to slide her hand down until she found my swollen, straining balls. She explored, scratching ever so slightly with her nails and I felt another surge of power. So did she.

It was time. I reached into the back pocket of my discarded trousers and suggested "Let's go on the blanket, love."

She actually beat me to the throw on the sofa she was so horny. I hung back as she spread it on the carpet, gloating at her big bum swinging free, and her huge mound bulging between her legs, soaking panties clinging to it.

Sh elay down and I held out the open variety pack of Durex above her. "It likes to go in purple, baby," I told her looking meaningfully at my cock and her purple panties. She registered surprise and relief but it was my turn to feel nervous.

I don't like condoms. I like to feel the intimacy of my woman's fanny walls and send my sperm out to swim. I am too big for most condoms and more than once I have lost an erection fumbling to get one down my shaft. But I wasn't going to settle for anything less than her pussy. Maybe it was partly desire to finish what I started last time, maybe there was a score to settle or maybe it was simply my belief that foreplay, licking, kissing, tittie cream pies and so on are fun but fucking is the only way to show real commitment to each other.

I knew she wouldn't let me take her bareback so purple latex had to do. "You put it on then you know you're safe," I told her and lay on my back beside her. I meant to reassure her. But I was all too aware that reawakening old, unwelcome memories was causing me to soften.

It didn't seem to bother her and she tried to put the condom over my tip. Her fingers were gentle and caring but I was struggling. By this stage she knew it but she didn't criticise or give up. She sat beside my head, rolled me onto my stomach with her strong arms and buried my face between her thighs.

The pornographic smell of her panties and the soft open cavity I could feel through them were incredible. I swiftly peeled them down from her waist. She lifted herself up to help me and I eased them under her bottom. My fingers delved between her thighs on the way and found her opening. Her yelp of pleasure as I applied pressure to her clit did the trick.

I was rigid again and she barely had time to get the condom unrolled before I was on top of her thrusting deep inside. She wrapped her thunder thighs around me and held me in tight; gorgeous, particularly when I put my arms under her shoulders and rolled us from side to side.

I was forceful with her. She wasn't going to push me out this time. In truth she didn't try. She seemed to want to be mastered and surrendered herself to her passion. It was immense and urgent. She hadn't been fucked properly for years and demanded my climax immediately. I knew she was orgasmic already. I could feel the hot flush spread from her belly through her whole body and her eyes were wild. But I made her wait until I had lapped up every ounce of pleasure from her mouth, boobs, thighs and cunt. Finally I felt her second shuddering orgasm and we cried out together as I released.

Spent I lay inside for a few minutes, cuddling her tightly and letting us both get our breath back.

Then I eased out slowly and carefully. I tried not to spill anything but my condom was so full that I wonder if a few drops escaped. I have often questioned since whether either of us would have cared if they had.

We didn't talk about the possibility at the time. Neither of us wanted to disturb the mood of euphoria by questioning the future. We showered and then she asked me shyly to stay the night.

I hadn't planned that and was a little taken aback. But our sensitivity to each other was growing. She knew she had gone too far too fast. But I was learning that she had tenacity. She put her dressing gown on and made hot chocolate for us both then we went into the living room to chat about it.

Part of me wanted to stay. Her home was comfortable and I found contentment in her arms. But staying the night implied more than just sex. I wasn't sure I wanted commitment either of loyalty or time. I was busy. I needed to get on with a project towards my MBA in the morning.

We skirted around the subject for a bit but it was getting late if I was going to drive home that evening. So finally I put it to her straight, "Why do you want me to stay? What do want from our relationship?"

"I've never woken up with a man beside me. I just want to know what it is like," she replied. Seeing my surprise she elaborated. "Me mum would never let me bring a boyfriend home. She was old fashioned, no sex before marriage, all that stuff, you know. I just used to go to the allotments." Tonight is different. I've never felt like this before, like I'm floating on air. Isn't that what love is supposed to feel like?"

"You mean you want a long term relationship?" I asked not sure how I would react to her answer.

"You can work on your paper here in the morning. I won't bother you." She offered avoiding the question.

"OK so if I stay tonight, then what?" I persisted.

"I don't know." She replied. "I know I want you again all ready. But I told you before, guys don't stay with me. I'm frit of asking you but can we try, please. I am scared of being lonely again."

"If you've only had one night stands in an old greenhouse I'm not surprised nobody stays." I said to gain time to think. The note of desperation in her voice was a bit scary. If it didn't work and we had nothing in common out of bed it might be hard to get rid of her. On the other hand I admired her honesty, she didn't seem interested in my money and her lack of self confidence probably meant that she wouldn't be too pushy.

"All right, just for tonight and then we'll see how it goes from there." I told her.