Vernon Ch. 01byBarbraNovac©
This story is dedicated, respectfully, to Martin Amis, who I doubt would want to be acknowledged here, but is anyway. He wrote the first, and greatest 'Vernon' story, called 'Let me Count the Times' which is a brilliant piece of writing, and one of the very few short stories I am very jealous I didn't write. Hunt it up if you can.
Here's to you, Martin!
Vernon is a man like any, and every other man, and that's appropriate.
To look at him, you would think Vernon was like any other man. He gives off an aurora of 'ordinary'. Mid-height, average-weight, (which to Vernon's mind, was a little over what he'd like), he had a paunch that curved like a muffin top, swelling over the top of his belt. It was noticeable, but not as bad as, say, John in advertising, (Vernon thought), who was Vernon's age, and therefore comparable.
As with many men in their late forties, Vernon had the developing bald patch on the very top of his head. This was suitable and to be expected for his age. Vernon looked very appropriate, which Vernon thought was all right.
It works to be appropriate when you're an accountant.
Vernon worked for a document-scanning firm. He had a small, undecorated office that sat down the other end of the management area from the boardroom and reception. This was also appropriate. After all, nobody wants the money discussed in front of the potential customers. At least, not straight away, and Vernon was very good at social convention. Except for his little secret, convention was how Vernon lived his life.
His office had light gray walls that held no mark, a light gray desk that his black computer sat on, and two cream file cabinets.
On his desk top stood:
1 hole punch
1 caddy for paper clips
1 caddy for:
1 black pen
1 red pen
1 green pen
1 Paid stamp
There used to be a picture of an idyllic ocean scene with the phrase, "It's the choices we make not the chances we take that create our destiny." But Vernon had it removed because he felt it gave the wrong impression, since neither choice nor chance had anything to do with accounting.
The remarkable secret Vernon held didn't show on his face or in his features, though the right people seemed to pick it up very easily. Vernon knew, while he wasn't a handsome man, he wasn't an ugly one either. He was a normal looking, ordinary accountant. The kind of man you'd never look at twice. At least, most of us wouldn't look at him twice. Those who could see Vernon's secret looked at him many times, and usually followed him.
Vernon's secret was: He was a master seducer, and a perfect lover.
Now, many men think they are brilliant with women. Usually this is false bravado, tacked on to give them an ego boost. Either that, or they learn one or two tricks in bed, and think this qualifies them to be a virtual Casanova.
Many women are well aware that if a man boasts about his prowess in bed, she is to smile and pretend to look impressed (men are such fragile creatures, one must always care for their flailing egos) and either politely refuse (citing marriage, religion or an STD) or give him the chance to show her his stuff. Either option usually ends up with the same result; the woman feeling alone and neglected in a big bed – man or no man.
But Vernon wasn't one of these men. His sexual prowess was in his essence, and, as a result, women approached him. It was almost as if they smelled him. Vernon preferred not to pursue women. Number one, he didn't have too; and number two he rarely had enough time in the day to satisfy the women making their demands on him as it was. He felt it was rather crass to approach a woman. He felt sure, she would come to you, if your pheromones appealed to her, and that was the important thing.
And Vernon's pheromones seemed to appeal to many women.
This is how a typical day played itself out in Vernon's life.
He woke at about seven, to a special kind of alarm, that was a woman's voice seductively telling him to wake up. Vernon lived alone (it had never occurred to him to become exclusive to one woman, and he rarely experienced loneliness) and so had no one in his bed to take care of his morning boner.
Now the woman's voice, was not a clever alarm clock, it was his neighbor, Jane, who made sure her work out was complete by seven, mostly so that she could take care of Vernon's boner for him.
She was a very sweet woman, thirty-five years old, and looking to start a family with her husband who she loved very much. However, her husband was always off at work by seven n the morning, and Jane made herself available to help Vernon with his morning stiffy. She promised him and herself she'd settle down as soon as she had children, and Vernon had no reason to doubt her. But for Jane, it seemed logical, that while her body was still so nice and firm, (and soon it would be ruined with children) she should take advantage of what it could still get her.
And it got her Vernon. For exactly twenty-five minutes, at seven am, every day.
Jane climbed out, onto her terrace, and slung her leg over the low wall that separated the two balconies. She did this every morning, in order to not be detected by anyone in the hall. Vernon always thought she'd have a better chance of being seen, and by more people, scaling the outside of a building. Wearing nothing but her thin robe each morning, the wind gusting up under it, and her pretty slit and bare ass exposed would surely cause people to look up. However, Jane insisted that this way she wouldn't be caught and that was the most important thing.
So Vernon could wait in bed, till the delicious Jane, popped into his room to give him his wake up call at seven. If he didn't open his eyes (as sometimes he deliberately didn't) a soft breast with a very hard nipple would play at the corners of his mouth. A hot tongue would nuzzle and breathe into his ear, and a warm damp hand would slide under the sheets to find his boner.
Vernon liked to fake sleeping through this, so that Jane was forced to wake him. She would sit on the bed next to him, and lounge her naked body back so that her breasts sat level with his face. Then she would rub those double d's against his face, almost as if she were enticing a little babe to wake up and take what's being offered.
"Wake up Vernon dear. Time for me to milk you darling."
Vernon opened his mouth to receive the hard nipple into it, and sucked. He fixed a seal, not too tight, but hard enough to be felt properly, about the light pink edge of her nipple, so that the entire hard skin was in his hot mouth. Then he'd flick his tongue across the tip of it, using its growing hardness as an indicator he was working her properly.
The suction around her nipple, kept insistent but not too strong, balanced with the flick of his tongue, was only over when he heard her light gasp. Then he would release her breast, open his eyes, and say: "Next please."
Jane, leaning over Vernon, so that her golden-brown hair hung feather-like over his face, would stretch over his torso, and place the other nipple against his eager lips. Vernon then performed the exact same function on her other cherry, till both were erect, and Jane panted with noticeable frequency. About two breaths for every normal inhalation.
Jane would twist over the top of Vernon, so that her beautiful silky hair trailed down his chin stubble. She maneuvered herself, slithering further down his body. She let her hair trail down his skin, because, Vernon suspected, she knew it gave him pleasure.
She used her hair in this way, as she snaked down his chest and belly, gliding and sliding her body, still hot and supple from its morning workout, till she was face to face with Vernon's stiff dick, and her aerobicized ass was pointed directly at his face. Jane would always spread her legs so that her puffy pussy lips hovered just above Vernon's nose, pouting and expectant.
Jane didn't want cunnilingus from Vernon, which Vernon would be happy to provide. Instead she wanted Vernon's fingers in her. He lay in the position he'd woken in, with the two delicious curves of her ass bobbing above him. He could see the soft downy hair detail in her crack, and smell the combination of pleasant, healthy woman perspiration, musky ass-scent first thing in the morning, and the strong sea spray smell of female arousal. This was a smell Vernon was very used to.
Soon Vernon felt the hot lips work his tool. It felt very good; Jane was excellent at giving head. She held the base of his shaft with one hand, and used her tongue to peel back his foreskin, relishing in any of the sticky secretions clinging to the underside of his foreskin. She circled the head with her tongue, and used her hand to hold the receding skin down, so that his pulsing hot head was exposed to her fully.
As Jane did this, Vernon would insert his pointer finger into Jane's fleshy pussy, positioning it to her g-spot. His finger laid feather light on that little nipply flesh inside her channel, as he massaged and rotated his finger to get her going.
Vernon's indicator she was ready for what she wanted, came when she lowered her whole head onto his dick, taking the shaft full toward the back of her throat, and using her tongue to slide around his balls at the base. Vernon always thought this was a very sexy moment, and had to concentrate not to explode in the lovely woman's mouth at that point.
With deep breaths, Vernon focussed on the pulsing pussy, noting that the wetness now ran down his hand. Jane didn't know, but Vernon always tasted it at this point. The fresh clear fluid was hard to resist and it reminded Vernon that this woman needed a little something more, and he can't pour his fuck into her throat just yet.
Vernon then removed his finger from Jane's soaking cunt, and inserted it, gently, insistently, without hesitation, into her tight ass.
Jane lifted her face off Vernon's cock, and called out, "Fuck yeah baby, fuck that ass hole" which Vernon also found very exciting. It was remarkable, the things women say when aroused, that you would never expect from them at other times. Times like, say, when they're at work. These thoughts helped distract Vernon from the boiling sperm rising in his balls.
However, he held his hand still, marveling at the beautiful hard globes pounding themselves back hard onto his finger.
At this point, Vernon lifted his other hand, and using the mirror digit, inserted it into her streaming cunt, where the finger had sat previously. Vernon would find that little nipple-like circle of skin again, and very softly rotate the finger against it, using all that running lubrication to stimulate the G-spot to that very satisfying result.
"Shit! Fuck! I feel so good. Fuck those holes baby, while I gobble on your huge dick."
While thrusting back hard on his fingers, Jane would lean down, and opening her mouth wide, would take all of Vernon's cock to the root, so that he felt the back of her throat massaging his slippery head. Almost as if the nasty words had heated up her mouth, the warmth and intensity of her spongy inner cheeks massaged the outer skin of his dick as she worked it further and further down. When she had the shaft directly down her throat, her hot tongue came out to slither on his balls again.
Vernon pressed just a little harder on the vag hand, and pushed down with the ass hand, and Jane bore down, squirting out a sharp tangy liquid into Vernon's waiting, open mouth. Of all the women Vernon fucked in his day, Jane was the only one who ejaculated every single day, and Vernon found this very exciting.
Vernon always came into Jane's throat at this point. Hot, heavy globs of cum built up through a long nights sleep.
Vernon woke this way every day, and that suited him because it was a part of his routine. Jane would eventually perform only for her husband, and leave Vernon alone, and that was appropriate. Vernon enjoyed her day by day, knowing the day would come when Jane wasn't in his bed.
Jane was always done by seven – twenty five, which suited Vernon well. She didn't stay and they rarely talked. Jane was very warm, and Vernon knew they were friends, but they didn't have very much to talk about, once their cum was lodged in each other mouths, so Jane would say a hasty goodbye, mutter a promise to see him In the morning, and make her way over the balcony, with her silk robe ballooning up in the early morning wind.
Vernon would then take exactly thirty-five minutes to shower and eat some breakfast before he existed his apartment, at precisely eight am.
But that was only the start of a typical Vernon day.