Archive name: The Course Part One.HTM (M/F, Cheating, Wanking)

Authors name: Paula Wilson ([email protected])

Story title: The Course Part One.

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This work is copyrighted to the author and the Unfaithful Wife Organisation © 2003. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration.

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Authors Note: This is the second of the courses trilogy; I have split it into a series of events that can be navigated like a normal hyperlink. I had to do this as the stories are getting bigger and I felt the need to sub divide them, Library, Interlude, Course Work, Evening Play, End Game

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Library Schemes

I found Rebecca (Reb to her friends which didn’t include me) sharing coffee and biscuits with the other students in the eatery.

“Finished that cataloguing?” I asked, try and failing to keep calm.

Rebecca looked startled and glanced around the table for morale support and found none.

“Well?” I demanded.

“Sorry Mrs. Wilson, I’ll get right back.” She pushed the crockery away and brushing past me fled from my presence. I turned on her three companions. “I’ll expect to see all of you back in the library in five minutes, understand?”

There was a chorus of reluctant agreement. Satisfied I turned and began to stalk out of the eatery.

“Jesus but somebody should give her a fuck; she’s just a frustrated old cow.” The words carried to me as I reached the door and I stopped. I was very tempted to turn around and go back, but that wouldn’t achieve anything and they were right, I did need a fuck and not off my husband.

It was that time.

Still I couldn’t let them get away with such a remark no matter how accurate and so for the next few days I found every dusty and dirty job I could for Rebecca and her crew. It gave me some satisfaction and reinforced most people’s opinion of me as a bitch, but it didn’t solve the obvious problem.

It had all started on Sunday morning and had carried on through the barbeque at Charlie’s boss’s home and now several days later I wasn’t exactly desperate but I was just starting to wonder what my next move would be.

It didn’t help that for once Charlie was home every night, home and waiting for me to arrive. At one level it was nice, we had dinner together, even took in a movie and of course we fucked, but I was looking for something different and having a doting Charlie in tow was becoming a problem. Now that sounded horrible, I’d mean that Charlie was a problem just that I needed some space.

It was solved just when I had started to think that I’d have to do something desperate. The word came down from on high that the annual course/conference held in the University next week was short one course organiser. It was the type of job that I normally avoided like the proverbial plague but it did require you to sleep in and that opened up all sorts of possibilities.

There were just two stumbling blocks, getting on the course (probably not a problem, I was more than qualified) and telling Charlie (he wouldn’t be happy and I couldn’t really think of a good excuse).

The former was as easy as I imagined, though I needed to reorganise the shifts to cover for my absence (that turned out to be another chance of getting at Rebecca and Co). The latter was another story, naturally I waited until we’d had our evening fuck (with Charlie home we were taking every opportunity).

We were snuggled up together in that wonderful glow you get after good sex; it was the best moment I could engineer.

“Remember when I told you about those university courses?” I began using the same ploy as Charlie had over the barbeque.

“No, what courses?” Charlie asked.

“About me being asked to be an organiser?”

“No? When was this?” Of course there was no chance of him remembering a conversation that had never taken place.

“A few weeks ago, I said that I’d been approached about being a course organiser for this summer’s conferences?”

“Nope, can’t say that I do, so what’s happened?”

I tried to sound annoyed, like most women I can lie when I need to, especially where it concerns my sex life. “They just asked if I’d be interested if they had a problem, it’s usually the same old crew year after year…”

“Except this year, is that right? Charlie has a habit of doing that, interrupting me. He doesn’t mean anything by it, but it can annoy me.

“I wish you would let me finish the sentence.” I complain.

“Sorry.” Charlie yields the floor and I seize the advantage.

“Like you said, except this year, this year one of the crew’s dropped out and as first reserve I’ve been asked to step in.” I tried to sound as pissed off as possible.

In the darkness of our bedroom I can hear Charlie struggling to stay awake and focus on the conversation. At that level this is working. Still I am being a shit to him, again.

“So when does this happen?”

“Next week.”

“Next week! Nothing like warning people.” Charlie snorts. “So what happens, instead of working in the library you travel out to the university, that’s quite a hike everyday?”

We have come to the delicate bit. I have gained a modicum of sympathy but I guess that I’m about to use it all in one stroke.

“I won’t be travelling, it’s all residential.” I almost add something more but I’ve said everything

“You have to stay?”

I sit up and switch on the light. “Look, I didn’t expect them to need me; I wouldn’t have volunteered if I’d have thought for a moment that they would need me.” We are both naked and I pad across the bedroom to my briefcase. Inside are the course details and the final fact, that there isn’t one but two courses running over consecutive weeks, even I hadn’t budgeted for that. I hand the papers to Charlie. “It’s all there, I’ll open a couple of beers, have a read.”

The beers not just a device so that Charlie can read the stuff whilst I’m downstairs, I’m thirsty, bloody thirsty. I take my time, Charlie is a fast reader but I want him to have time to digest everything. By the time I return the papers are lying on the bed and Charlie is prowling the room, not a good sign.

“Two weeks, it’s for two weeks.” He snaps almost before I’m in the room.

“Sorry!” I whisper. I hand him his bottle of beer. “I wouldn’t have volunteered, honestly, but I can’t step down now, they need me.” I sound desperate and I am this is harder than I expected. Charlie knows me to well to be taken in this easily.

“There’s no chance that they could give you some kind of special dispensation, I mean at such short notice, they should allow some freedom.” He’s either desperate or frustrated or both.

“I already asked. The rest of the crew will be there from Sunday, I get to start on the Monday, that’s my special dispensation, and then I’ll be there through Thursday night, travel home Friday afternoon and then the same again the next week.” I’m sounding as resigned as I can manage.

“Well, can’t say that I’m pleased, but if needs must, and then they must. I suppose that it’s only like me being missing so many times … are you cold?”

We are both just standing in the middle of the bedroom, both naked and both with empty beer bottles.

“A bit.” I concede.

“Need warming up?” Charlie suggests, moving a little closer.

“How?” I ask as coyly as I can manage.

“Come to bed and find out.” Charlie laughs, folding an arm around my waist and steering me towards the bed. I’m pleased with the idea but I also know Charlie well enough to understand that he uses fucking when e can’t think of anything else.

Interlude

“Am I a cow?” I ask Chrissie over coffee. I have been mulling over the nights events with Charlie, not the fucking but the lies and manipulation and then the comments of one of Rebecca’s crew. At least after night I’m certainly not frustrated.

“Moo!” Chrissie says with a grin.

“Seriously, am I cow, be honest.” I can’t think of anyone else to ask.

Chrissie pulls a face. “I wouldn’t say cow, I mean when you call a girl a cow, that means worse than a bitch right?”

Chrissie’s logic is as twisted as her words and after a moment I can’t help but giggle. “Just tell me.” I plead.

“Seriously, what brought this one I’d have never seen you as being an introspective type.”

It’s my turn for face pulling. “I caught that Rebecca slipping off again and gave her a few choice words, only she was with the other placement girls and as I was leaving the room one said just loud enough for me to hear, that I was a frustrated old cow who needed to be f.u.c.k.e.d.” I spelt out the last word.

Chrissie forms her mouth into a very large O. “So someone has sussed you after all.”

“Seriously Chrissie, what do the others think of me?”

“You want to know, seriously?”

“Seriously”

“Don’t blame me and don’t tell anyone what I have said, promise, cross your heart and hope to die?”

I hadn’t done that since I was a kid, but I sat there and made the cross sign over my heart as I repeated the words. “Okay, now give.”

“I can’t speak for the students, but most of the girls see you as being aloof. You never mix, share jokes and that sort of thing…”

“I’m the supervisor.” I interrupt.

“And have periods, take a dump and get screwed.” She labours the last point. “We all do that, but you never talk about the little things.”

“So the next time I need a crap you want me to tell everyone?”

Chrissie groans. “This could take hours, no, not that you’ve farted either. Just talk about going out with Charlie, or ask the girls what they did over the weekend. Make it seem as if you are interested.”

“Be more sociable.” I suggest.

“Got it in one.” Chrissie agrees.

“What about the frustrated old cow bit?”

Chrissie clears her throat. “That’s more about your look. I’ve seen you out of work and I doubt if many of the others have. In work you dress severely, act the same, you just come across as one of those lonely old spinsters … you know … like you always imagined worked in libraries.”

“Frustrated old cow?” I prompt. I can be as dogged as the proverbial dog with a bone.

“Alright, this is on your chin. Just recently you have been ogling every almost reasonable man that walks into the library, there have been times when even I thought you’d just walk up to one of them and ask for a fuck.”

I go bright red with embarrassment, was I really being that obvious? “So I have to be more sociable and get screwed?”

“About that, knowing you the former is more difficult than the latter.”

I ignore the remark. Chrissie thinks she has a direct line on my private life whereas she knows but a little of what I get up to. I don’t say anything for a few minutes, I mulling over what Chrissie has said and also I don’t want my coffee to cool much more.

“What about a girl’s night out?” I suggest. “Or better still, a party at my place, just girls … what do you think?”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, least ways I’ll find out who it is who can’t stand being in the same room as me.”

“There you go being negative … should I drop a few hints …”

“No, we have a team meeting, I’ll offer both options, it can’t happen thou until I come back from my course.”

“Maybe you’ll be less frustrated by then.” Chrissie suggests with a very big and obvious smirk.

I hope that she’s right.

Course Work

The city claims the university as its own, but the reality is that the nearest town is Clayton, and until the city began its urban explosion the university was known as Clayton. It was only later that the city elders bribed Clayton that we claimed the university as our own.

It was here that I studied, here that I first started my little cheating games and now I was returning, hopefully to cheat again, but first I had to meet my colleagues.

As arranged I arrived after breakfast on the Monday, it was weird, the first time in five years that I’d driven between the tower gates. At least finding the Rochester Hall was easy and parking at the end of the college year was easier still. I parked up and lugged my over packed night bag to the Hall reception.

Mrs. Carlisle was one of those librarians who give the profession a bad name. As soon as I saw her I knew that we wouldn’t get on. She looked the clone of every school librarian who’d driven children away from books and not towards them. She was fifty, stout (not fat) and her hair was streaked steel grey.

“Mrs. Wilson …”

“Paula, I prefer Paula.”

“Mrs Wilson (oh well I did try), we had hoped you’d attend last evening with the rest of the facilitators (new name), there was a great deal of work to be done what with checking in all the delegates, we needed every pair of hands.”

“I was told that I could arrive on Monday, I only said that I could help on Thursday.” I said as reasonably as possible.

“Quite, but the time we needed you most was yesterday and I’m afraid you have missed breakfast, also we can’t accommodate you in the house allocated to us, the sex mix is all wrong, I couldn’t possibly share. So we have found you a room in with the delegates, but for now just leave your bag here and I’ll introduce you to your first class … you know something about archives?”

I smiled. I actually wanted to commit physical violence to her. She was treating me like some errant schoolgirl! “I studied here, actually produced a paper on the need for modern archivists. It was published.” I say from between closed teeth. I’m no country bumpkin or a shelf stacker and the old battle axe had better understand that.

“Quite, well, here is the course work and your class waits.”

It took me to lunchtime to realise that I’d fallen for the worse subjects and the worse classes. The first group were a bunch of elderly novelists who met each month to discuss crime fiction. They had most probably misread archiving for arsenic, what ever I soldiered on and on. A complete day of classes filled with middle aged woman, unless I had a startling change in sexual orientation there was no one for me here.

After dinner there were brief forum’s which at least encouraged the delegates to get involved, then I made my way down to the college bar, half of me remembering younger days, nights with Davis or just getting plastered, the half wondering if there would be anyone half descent.

The answer was no and by eleven I was curled up in bed wondering whether I should exercise my single digit. In the end I decided that to so would be an admission of defeat.

Until lunchtime on day two it followed the same disastrous pattern of the previous day, the only chink of light was the fact I had no classes in the afternoon. Of course the old bitch couldn’t bear the thought of me having time off.

“As you were at college here can I assume you know where the admin offices are?” She asked.

“Unless they have moved, yes!” I’d given up trying to be nice and polite.

“Good, I need two hundred copies of the evaluation form for the delegates, see if you can find a photocopier.”

I said nothing and just started to plot my revenge which would be slow and painful, at least for Mrs. Carlisle. I even began to speculate on what sort of dumb arse would be foolish enough to marry her.

The admin block hadn’t moved but looked deserted. I rang the Bell and when that failed just put my finger down and pressed. If there was no one there then the act served no purpose but it did ease my frustration.

“YES!” The angry voice came from above me and for the briefest of seconds I wondered if I’d awoke the most high.

I looked up and into an angry male face.

“Yes.” He snaps again. “What’s wrong with you?” He asks.

“Photocopying.” I say lamely. “I have some photocopying to do.” I should have been angry but instead I offered the lamest of explanations. I even waved the handful of papers towards him.

“Wait there.”

A minute later the frosted glass admin door swings open, nearly decapitating me in the process. I even dance back a step and lose some of the sheets. This is how he finds me, on my hands and knee’s scrabbling around for papers and swearing none too silently.

“I’m sorry, did I cause this?” He grabs the last errant paper and hands it to me.

He’s wearing brown leather patterned cowboys boots, original Levi’s and one of those thick check patterned shirts, all that was lacking was his Stetson! Still my latter day cowboy even helps me to my feet, what a gentleman! Even in his boots, they have heels like mine, he stands over six feet. I don’t like short men, sorry, but I like a man I can look up to.

“It’s okay, I was startled.” I give him what I think is my cute and innocent smile.

“Still, sorry.” He’s kind of weather beaten, like somebody who has spent time in the great outdoors, and could be any age up to about forty. “You said something about photocopying?”

“What … oh yes … photocopying, I need a stack of these.” I wave the sheets.”

“Right … there’s a problem, a big problem.”

He has grey green eyes, actually more grey than green, and light brown hair that straggles down his neck. I stop studying him long enough to reply.

“What problem, run out of paper?” I try to add a touch of levity to the rather obvious drool. He is fit, built, and masculine, what ever you fancy, and in fact he’s fanciable, very fanciable, or maybe I’m just a little bit desperate.

“Not quite … look I’m not being a gentleman keeping you standing out here. I was just about to break and have a coffee … care to join me?”

“Sure!” I try to keep the whoop of triumph out of my voice, I don’t know if I succeed.

“Great, this way.” He (find out his name Paula) leads me to the side of the admin block to where one of those huge mobile homes stands. “This is Jessie, when I’m on the road she’s my home.”

“Hi Jessie, I’m Paula.” I say, thinking that was a pretty neat way of introducing me.

“Paula … jeeze … my manners again, Joe as in Joseph, Joe Durry at you service.”

Service, my god but I shudder, I bet that he can service, I bet he can. Joe opens the trailer door and I enter up half a dozen small steps. I have never been in one of these things and here I am with a complete stranger. Crazy or not, it just shows how desperate I have become. Paula girl, you have to take more precautions and not just in the sack.

The trailer (probably not the right term but it’s all I can think of) is large and lavish, there’s a small kitchen space, a dining table, well all the stuff you’d find in a house but more congested.

Joe slides over to the kitchen space where a percolator is chugging away, giving off a delicious smell of ground coffee. He doesn’t spare himself the creature comforts.

“How do you take your coffee, milk or cream?”

Cream? What is this a café? “Cream please, no sugar.”

A minute later we are settled around that dining table and I start to find out just why he’s here. “The problem with the photocopying is there isn’t a working copier, that’s what I’m here for. The college bought three new systems and I’m installing them, so all their old kit been dismantled and shipped away. It’ll be tomorrow at the earliest before anything really fast is working.”

So that explains why he’s here and also adds the local colour that he’ll be here tonight, all good stuff for a rampant Paula. I taste the coffee, it’s stronger than I prefer but I’m not going to cloud my day by complaining.

“Nothing?” I try and get my brain back in gear and away from his groin, honestly if he’d have suggested a quick shag on the table I’d have been hard pressed to say no. “I only want a couple of hundred sheets.”

“There’s just an old table top machine in one of the office’s, you’ll have to hand feed it I’m afraid, could take quite a while.”

I smile. “It’ll take as long as it takes.” Of course I’d prefer it to take hours; I want the details on this surprise package.

One hour later I’m heading back to the Hall with the dam assessment papers but more importantly I know enough about the delectable Joe to have fixed up a tentative date for later this evening, it went like this.

“So, after you’ve finished for the day, what then, a trip to the student bar?” I ask.

“Tried that, seems that even out of term you have to be a member of the student body, I don’t qualify.”

“That explains why I didn’t see you in there last night, listen and I hope you don’t think I’d being forward, but I can sign in one guest, so if you fancy a beer …”

We meet at nine, after the end of the evening session and after I’ve had a chance to change into something a little more alluring that the jeans and top I currently have on.

Evening Play

I have finally dressed in moderation; partly because my better fuck me clothes are at home with Charlie, but also because I didn’t want to attract too much attention. So I choose a simple denim skirt, short naturally, and a midnight blue cotton t-shirt, I wasn’t wearing a bra but was wearing a pair of virginally white knickers. The last was a nice touch, kind of I hadn’t prepared for this moment.

I’d agreed to meet Joe outside the students bar and there he was, waiting, still in his cowboy boots, but he’d changed his shirt, similar to but different from the one he’d worn this afternoon. I had the sudden revelation that an examination of his wardrobe wouldn’t yield much different. Joe was one of those guys who wore what he liked and nothing else.

When he saw me his face broke out into a smile that I hoped was for me and not simply the prospect of cheap beer.

“Am I late?” I ask. I have a terrible record for time keeping, about the only thing that arrives on time is my monthlies and that wasn’t this week or next.

“No!” He lies, I’m, I guess fifteen minutes late, which by my standards is on time.

“Thanks for being a gentleman.” I laugh a little too loudly.

I sign Joe in and of course he buys the beers and despite my protestations he carries on buying them all night. I do offer to stand my corner, but not to fervently.

I find out a few more titbits. He’s been married but that was over years ago, right now there is no one, so he says, in his life. If there somebody then she isn’t in the trailer which is all I care about. It seems that he’s spent years just driving the West, picking up jobs when he needed money. I decide that he’s somewhere between a gypsy and a latter day hippy.

The bar calls last orders, this is the moment that if he just says thanks and good night and then I really do have to play the single digit game.

“I hope you won’t feel offended.” He begins, this is it, and silently I groan and wonder why I was such an idiot. “But I have a bottle of Scotch in Jessie, if you’d like a nightcap.”

I hate Scotch, its Charlie’s favourite short drink and I can kiss it but not drink it, besides there’s tomorrow to think about so I can’t get smashed. I’ll settle for a last beer and good shag, maybe in that order but I’m not that fussy. “Make that a beer.” I suggest.

“Beer it is, the lady is always right.”

There is just one last thing. We have spent the evening together but the students off the course have drifted in and out of our conversation. So we have been seen together but I don’t want us to be seen leaving the bar together.

“I need a pee, why don’t you go ahead …” I see the look on his face. “I’ll be five minutes, honest.” I smile and have to fight down the urge to touch him that can wait for later.

Ten minutes later I tap on the door to Jessie, what a daft name for a vehicle, and a moment later the door swings open. This time I’m prepared and have taken a step back, Joe isn’t going to knock me onto my arse a second time.

“Hi, am I still welcome?”

“Sure.” Joe extends his hand towards me. I let him help me up the steps and into the trailer.

“Sorry I’m late; one of the students collared me in the toilets. I thought for a moment she was going to offer to walk back to the residencies with me. It took me a minute to shake her offer.” As I finish speaking I just start to wonder if the nightcap is all that Joe is offering, if it is than I’m making a grade one fool of myself.

“I was just wondering…”

“If I’d made a bolt for it.” I say to finish off his sentence.

“Something like that.” He laughs.

“Well here I am now, where’s my beer?”

In the few minutes we have been apart Joe’s rearranged the trailer, the dining table has been folded away and the narrow seats have been extended. It still isn’t exactly a couch, but it offers a better snogging platform that what was there before.

I also notice that the lights are dimmed, naughty boy, does he think I’m here to be taken advantage off. I sure as hell hope so. Right now I don’t want Joe to behave like an old fashion western gentleman but a horny bachelor being presented with the chance for a fuck.

“Here!” Joe hands me the bottle and I take a seat, crossing my legs to ensure that he see’s a health amount of thigh. He tries to stare and look away at the same time, is he shy?

“Don’t you ever sit down?” I laugh and find that my voice is an octave lower than usual. I pat the space next to me. “You could sit here; I’ve never been known to bite.” He does sit down but now I know that he unsure or shy or something. I take a slug from my beer and then turn towards him. “Is there a problem … I thought that you invited me back …” I deliberately don’t finish the sentence.

“I’m out of practise.” He smiles weakly. “You don’t strike me as a woman who wants a beginner.”

I can’t help but start laughing, and it gets so bad that I have to hand him my beer before I spill it. He just sits there and waits for me to finish.

“I’m sorry Joe.” I suck in a huge breath. “If you want me to go then just say, otherwise I’m happy to stay with you … beginner or not … I have wanted to kiss you since the moment we met, so…”

I offer up my mouth and await the kiss. It tastes of Scotch and is soft against my lips, not tongue, just lips. I kiss him back and the pressure increases. Slowly I slide across him until I’m pressed up against his chest He has that nice masculine smell which some men give off, it isn’t suppressed by deodorant. I find the natural smell of a man more alluring than three tons of aftershave and deodorant. I’m always left wondering why the man has dosed himself, does he really smell bad.

I push closer so that my boobs are just flattened against him and so that I’m leaning against his left arm. It leaves his right arm for exploration and soon even his shyness is being defeated. I can feel his dick hardening inside his jeans and then his hand is on my shoulder and very slowly moving down my body. I resist the temptation to urge him to hurry up, we have most of the night and I can be patient.

We stop kissing and I stare up into his grey \ green eyes, they are sparkling, excitement or just plain lust it doesn’t much matter. I have him, he’s overcome whatever reservations he had and he’s all mine.

“Okay?” I whisper.

“Better than okay.” He replies and kisses me again, this time the tongues trying to find a route between my teeth. I open up and we have a tongue battle. Meantime his hand reached my hips and has hesitated; in a flash of temper I push the hand beneath the back of my skirt. Funny some men I’ve had to fight off, but Joe’s almost the reverse. I have to guide, nudge and cajole Joe, but now that his hands on the flesh of my arse I feel nature take over.

At last.

We break off kissing and I savour his fingers sliding under my knickers elastic. I roll over until I’m more or less lying across him and on my back, one legs raised high against the back of the seat whilst the others planted on the carpet, he has full access if you get my drift.

The fingers roll beneath my waistband and over my pubes. I’m just smiling and watching the reaction on his face when he discovers just how wet I am, how wet he’s made me. A finger slides inside me and I have to wriggle slightly to get more comfortable.

“That’s nice.” I whisper / smile as the finger’s joined by another and they both play at frigging me. I like this, I always have, I have never yet had too much foreplay, sometimes there hasn’t been the need, but generally the longer I’m touched then the better I like it.

He’s almost hypnotised, those gorgeous eyes are glazing over and I do start to wonder the last time he had a woman. A guy as good looking as Joe is shouldn’t have a problem pulling a woman. Its a little mystery and one I’d like an answer to but later.

“Should we go to bed?” I ask.

He lifts me, having delicately pulled out of me; Joe scoops me up in a single move and quite literally carries me to the bedroom. I mean its right out of the caveman era. I have my arms wrapped around his neck and kick my shoes off as we go.

The bedroom is in darkness and Joe lays me onto the bed. It’s a minute before my eyes focus and just in time to see Joe stepping out of his shorts, he could have asked!

“Should I do the same … or do you prefer me to stay clothed?” I tease.

“Oh!” He just stands there with an impressive hard on which would be a pity to waste.

“Don’t look so worried.” I laugh, Charlie says that my laughs quite musical and though I’m not quite sure what that means I know that I laugh with people and not at them. “Here, catch.” I pull off my top and my titties bounce free. I toss it to Joe who catches it and then just stands there. Then and with a little more effort I pull off my skirt, he catches that as well.

I pull back the quilt and slip beneath it, a part of me wonders when the bedding was changed but that isn’t a thought to hold onto. “Come and join me.” I urge.

Holding Joe is nice, real nice. He’s in shape, the kind of shape that comes from hard work rather than the gym, and for a while I’m happy just to hold him and snog. I don’t even touch his dick, even though it’s pushing against my tummy. He just keeps touching me, my boobs (the nipples are well erect), waist, my bum and my legs. He stays away from my pussy which surprises me as he knows what’s waiting for him.

“Can I take these off?” He whispers finally.

“I can’t see how we can do anything with them on.” Still I wriggle out of my knicks and present them to him. “Now, have you things?” A bit late I know but you can hardly ask this question in the bar, at least I can’t.

“Oh!”

I have to laugh again.

“I’m sorry …” He stammers until I stop him with a snog.

“My wallets in the lounge go and get it.” I even push him out of the bed and then just lie there until he returns clutching the wallet. “Give it to me.” I fish out on of the three condoms I always carry. A girl has to be prepared and as Charlie always seems ready for action I have taken to making sure I have one in case he doesn’t. “Now put that on and then … well … we’ll go by touch now on.”

We roll together, me underneath and Joe between my legs, there’s a moment when we just lie there, staring at each other in the darkness. I have my arms around his neck and my legs are drawn up. It needs the simplest of movements and Joe is inside me.

I had come to expect Joe’s performance would be crude and sudden. I’m half right; he has no technique beyond just shagging, in out, in out, in out, in out, in out. It isn’t subtle and position change only occurs because of me, but does he have staying power. Joe’s dick might as well be bionic; he just ploughed on and on.

I came and then a little while later I came again. It seemed to make no difference to Joe; he just ploughed on and on. He was the original human dildo! He didn’t speak, not even to grunt.

I swore, I cursed, and I screamed his name. It made no difference; he neither stopped nor came, finally…

“Fuck you … don’t you … ever … finish!” I even hit him on the shoulder. “Fucking come you bastard, come.” I carried on hitting him until he stopped; he was hardly out of breath.

“Are you finished?” He asked.

Am I finished, usually I finished when the man came, I’d never been with a robot, what did you say, that’s enough, pull it out?

“Yes, yes, I’m finished.” I gasped. I had an extra skin of simple sweat; I was breathless, almost sore and utterly knackered.

Joe withdrew. I can’t describe it any other way. He lies beside me and I know that his dick is still pointing towards the ceiling.

“Was that okay?” He asks in a quiet voice.

I count slowly to ten before answering. “Don’t take this wrong, but do you every come, I mean you can ejaculate, can’t you?”

There’s another silence and then Joe speaks. “Not wearing a thing. I was told that the skin desensitizes me, does that sound right?”

“You mean that you don’t come if you wear a condom?” I don’t exactly scream, but I should. I would have found a girls dream, if he had any idea how to fuck a woman. I put aside that latter churlish remark to one side, Joe had a problem, and perhaps this explained why he was so uncomfortable about starting things.

Joe doesn’t answer me; he just stares up at the ceiling.

I have a crazy idea; I lean across and roll the condom off his dick, funny I don’t ever remember doing that before. In truth he doesn’t have a large dick; I can wrap my fingers around it with ease. I start to wank him. “How does that feel?”

“Nice.” He grunts.

I think that the last time I actually wanked a man off I was probably around fifteen, maybe a little older, but that’s what I do. I take my time, Joe deserves that but soon he’s shooting his stuff into the air. He groans just once and then as soon as I let go he rolls away and then heads for the bathroom.

In turn I head for the washbasin in the kitchen and wash off me the splattered ejaculation which had come my way. This is where Joe finds me.

We are both naked and neither notices.

He has a problem which is an absolute conversation stopper. I don’t know where to start and neither does he, instead by unspoken agreement we dress and then finish off our drinks whilst talking about nothing. I have sometimes found that the post fuck moments can be the best or the worse of the adventure. It’s now that I discover that my over active hormones have disguised the fact that partner is a thick as a short plank.

Joe fits into the nice but dim category and before you say anything, yes I am an intellectual snob. I can be bright and witty (and big headed) so why can’t everyone else.

The clock chimes two and breaks into my musing. “I must go …” I see the look of disappointment on his face. “I have to get back, if people found me missing there would be questions, you understand that.”

“Sure.”

At the door to the trailer Joe stops me. “Will I see you again?”

This is the question that every girl / woman learns to answer second, the first has the answer yes or no, I give him a smile. “For a beer or for more?”

“Either or both.”

“Let’s start with a beer.”

End Game

Of course I can’t settle for a beer. I end back at Jessie’s but this time I’m better prepared and as a result the sex is better. I even give Joe a mild blow job before finishing him off with my hand. The novelty of it all is actually quite a turn on and I’m tempted to stay longer, but I don’t. I have my reputation to defend.

There is one last meeting and in keeping with the fantasy feel to our brief relationship it is more than a little surreal.

On the Friday afternoon the old bag announces that the course is winding down and that if I want I can slope off home early, considering she’s had me doing every menial task other than cleaning the toilets, this is quite a concession and it isn’t until the following week that I discover that I missed out on a traditional present giving session when the delegates club together and buy the facilitators little gifts. Apparently this has been a tradition for years and obviously Mrs. Carlisle doesn’t want me stealing any of her limelight.

So whilst all this is taking place and everyone things I’m steaming towards my husband, I’m actually watching Joe running his last few tests on the photocopiers. I haven’t got anything planned beyond a final goodbye and bearing in mind Joe’s problem a quick fuck is out of the question.

The last machine finishes his test run and a satisfied Joe stand back to appreciate his handiwork. He looks pleased and preoccupied and it dawns on me that he hasn’t even considered a quick one.

“All finished one phone call now and Jessie and I will be on our way … what are you doing?”

I’m sitting on the plate of the photocopier, the plates warm and quite slippery.

“Does it work … that old story about taking a photocopy of a woman’s bum?”

Joe just stares and for a moment I think he’s about to scold me. “I don’t know.”

“Well lets see.” I press the green button, the engine kicks in, there’s a brief but bright explosion of light and my bum warms up just a bit. A few seconds later the picture of my skirt drops into the tray. The colours good but the subject is rather boring.

“Wait a sec.” I lift my bum and ruck my skirt up around my waist. I press the green button again, there is the light show and my bum’s warm again, this time the pictures more interesting, I’m wearing a regulation pair of white panties and they are nicely displayed.

I hand Joe the picture. “Souvenir, look at it and remember me.”

I step down. I had considered taking my knickers off, but I didn’t want my pussy frying. We kiss briefly, like family and then I am heading towards Charlie, my bed and some normal sex.