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Can you do me a favour?
My next door neighbour knocked on my door, and asked if I could do her a favour.
“Its a bit personal, can I come in?”
I led her through to my kitchen where the kettle was boiling. We were sitting at my kitchen table with mugs of coffee before she spoke again.
“I know it sounds odd, but please could you fuck my bottom?”
I was sipping my coffee when she said this, and we spent the next few minutes mopping up the spillage. Luckily neither of us was scalded.
She had only lived next door for a couple of months. At first she spoke to nobody, I saw her now and again, just doing the normal things, carrying shopping, drying washing, tidying the garden, that sort of thing. We acknowledged each other, but I don’t think that we had said a word to each other until she was at my bus stop as I was going to work. We sat together on the bus and chatted. She got off it after about half my journey.
Then, a week or so ago I was crossing the road, and she joined me. We saw the bus coming, and had to rush to catch it. She was carrying a large zip-up bag which was slowing her down. I grabbed it and carried it for her. We just made it. I helped her to stow the bag.
“I’m Sally by the way,” she said when we were seated.
“I’m Robert, or usually Bob.”
“You live next door to me don’t you. Thanks so much for that. I couldn’t afford to be late again”
“You are on your way to work?”
In the next few minutes she learned what my job was, and where I worked, I learned that she had moved from another town, but nothing about her work.
When she got off I saw her lug the bag through an anonymous door between two shops. On my way home I tried to identify the door again. It looked as if it gave access to an upstairs flat or office. There was an illuminated sign in an upstairs window, but the bus windows were steamed up and dirty. I could not read it.
That happened in the middle of the week before last. Now it was late Saturday morning, and Sally and I both had the weekend off.
“So what do you say. Could you do it for me.”
“Well yes, no, yes, I mean, of course, but why?”
She bit her lip and looked pleadingly at me.
“But you’re, I don’t know. I must be twice your age. I am sure that any number of young lads would… given half a chance.”
“I know, Bob, but I think you’d be kind to me.” She paused, looked at me and studied my puzzlement. “You don’t know what I do, do you? I thought you knew. You saw where I worked?”
“Well yes, but I still don’t know what your job is?”
“Oh sorry, Bob. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Well you have to tell me now. What do you do.”
“Um, what shall I call it? Adult services. I’m on the game. I’m a prostitute.”
I didn’t know what to say.
She looked unhappy. She made to finish her coffee and to leave. I was intrigued and not a little aroused.
“No, I mean yes, Please stay.”
To tell the truth. I was lonely. Since my wife had left I had avoided anything to do with sex, and I suppose that was not much different from before she left. There was a long pause. Eventually I could not help myself.
“Why do you want me to, um, to …”
“It’s my Boss, Mrs. Smith, she wants us to offer new services.”
“But surely she can’t…”
“She’s the boss. We do what she says, or we leave. And I have sort of told her that I used to do it at my last place.”
“And you hadn’t?”
There was another long pause. Unspeaking, I indicated that I might put the kettle on again, and our mugs were refilled.
“So do you think you could, please?”
“Let me get used to the idea. Have you had lunch? Shall we go to the pub and get something?”
“OK. Let me change my shoes. I’ll meet you outside in ten minutes. OK?”
Neither of us was used to drinking at lunchtime. We had sandwiches with a side order of chips, drank beer, and talked.
Over one beer I told her about my wife, who had left me a few years before. She had caught a bad case of religion, which despite her efforts I was immune to. Then her Mother had died and she had spent more and more time looking after and preaching at her Father. The poor bloke died soon afterwards. She then sold her parent’s house, divorced me, and went to live in a happy-clappy community somewhere. The last I heard of her, she was working as a housekeeper for a vicar somewhere.
Over the next beers she told me of her time at college, of going into debt, and drifting into sex work to pay the bills. She had finished college, could not get a real job, and so had spent the last couple of years moving from one town to another, one brothel to another.
We were both a bit unsteady when I led her back from the pub and into my house.
“So how are we to go about it?”
“I bend down and you push?” she giggled.
I was totally unused to anyone speaking about sex like that. She turned and put her arms around canlı bahis my neck, and kissed my nose cheekily. It was the first time we had touched.
“Come on then!” She took my hand and led me upstairs and through into my dusty untidy bedroom. She started unbuttoning her blouse. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. My wife had been an ‘only in the dark’ person. Her bra came off. I stared.
She started working on the buckle of my trouser belt. I started pulling off my sweatshirt. I was aware that I was sweaty and somewhat niffy under the armpits. Or was it just nerves, and was I delaying?
“Shall we have a shower?”
“Yes, good idea. Lets get to know each other first.”
I put on a dressing gown. I passed one of my clean shirts which she slipped on. It nearly reached her knees. I led her to the bath room.
The water was soon running warm, and she took off the shirt. The untied my dressing gown and slipped it off my shoulders. We stepped into the shower.
I watched the water spraying onto those beautiful soft rounded breasts. She saw me watching, and took hold of my hand and placed it in the spray. She put her other arm round me and pulled herself towards me. My hand was trapped between her breast and my chest. I was aware, and she was aware of my excitement.
She reached for the soap. She stepped away from me and ran the soap down her front. She encouraged me to wash her. She started to wash me.
We were both enjoying the process. The lather spread. I washed her back. My hands strayed back to her breasts. I turned. My back was soon clean, and I felt her hands creep downwards and she started to wash between my buttocks. It felt strange. Her finger touched my anus. I swayed as my knees almost gave way at the sensation it caused.
She gave me the soap, and she turned her back to me. I gingerly moved my hands and the soap downwards, and between the pressing flesh. The soap made it so easy. My fingers slid around. I explored. I pressed. I found her tiny wrinkled portal. I tickled it. She lifted a leg onto the shower stool, making my access easier.
“That feels so nice.” She leaned further forward. “Go on. Go further.”
I pressed. I felt the portal opening, and my finger slid inwards a centimetre or so. She wriggled herself against my finger.
“Go on. Try it. Now. Fuck my arse now.”
She bent over a bit further and her hand felt backwards until it clasped my penis. She pulled it towards her bum. She steered it into place.
“I think so.” I replied.
She put her hands against the shower wall. She pushed herself backwards against me.
“OK. Push it in.”
That’s when it went so wrong. I pushed suddenly and hard. Sally gasped and squealed and twisted away from me.
“Are you all right?”
“I think so. But it hurt me. It hurt me.” She had tears in her eyes.
I held her to me, feeling ashamed of the pain I had caused. I turned off the shower, found a towel and wrapped her in it. I found another and covered myself.
“Come on. Let’s rest a bit.”
I led her to the bed. We lay, hugging each other, she sobbed. I quietly kept saying “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” to her. Eventually we slept.
Over cups of tea a couple of hours later she said,
“We must be doing it wrong.”
“Lets look for advice on the web.”
I fired up my laptop and started browsing. Like most laptops, the angle of clear viewing is not too good, so for us both to read, we were soon snuggled up together to look at the screen. Somehow, we found ourselves with me controlling the mouse while she did the one fingered typing. Our other arms were round each other.
We found various photos, videos, and how to guides. The main thing that we learned, was “Do not believe the videos”. The serious guides told us to go slow, to use condoms, plenty of lubrication, and to start off small, perhaps with some sex toys.
As we read, we got more interested, and I know I got excited again. I also know that Sally moved my free hand onto one of her breasts.
She turned to face me, and I kissed her.
She lifted my hand off her breast, and gently twisted my wrist. I wondered if the kiss had been beyond bounds, but I realised that she was only looking at my watch.
“Lets go shopping.” she said.
“There’s a bus to town in 15 minutes.”
“Well it goes past …” She mentioned the well known local red-light district. “There’s a sex shop there.”
“Oh, I don’t know. What if someone sees us?”
“Easy,” she grinned, “Ask them what they were doing in that area on a Saturday afternoon themselves.”
The Saturday bus times were different. We popped back into the pub for another drink before we did get on the bus, where we were soon snuggled up, behaving a bit like two naughty school kids.
The shop opened my eyes.
We both wandered round it. I was amazed by what was on sale. I could not imagine what use much of it might have, but I know that I did not fancy it. She, on the other hand, had a look of bahis siteleri disgust and upset on her face, which given her career, surprised me.
“What’s the matter?”
“The prices. I don’t know that I can afford what we need.”
I looked at her.
“I get paid cash. I have just paid my rent, and now I am nearly broke,” she told me.
“I’ll get it.”
“No, you can’t. You are doing me a favour. You can’t pay for it.”
“OK, call it a loan. But I think I might get some benefit as well…?”
She smiled again.
I let her choose. She picked up a package with three different sized plugs in, and a large packet of extra strong condoms. The plugs were pink, smooth, and conical., like a childs drawing of a pine tree. Below the widest part it was a stalk above a larger base.
“Can you afford these?”
I took them from her, and took them to the counter.
“We’ll take these.”
“Anything else? Any books or videos?”
“I’ll look.” I turned to Sally. “Anything else we want?”
She took my hand, and we surveyed the racks. The assistant came over to us, and told us that the anal videos were on one wall. We followed his guidance.
We chose, paid, and left with our thick unmarked plastic bag.
We crossed the road to the bus stop, only to discover that we had an hours wait.
“Can we go to a pub, or somewhere please? I need a…”
“So do I.”
We walked towards the town centre, and soon found an open bar. The barman watched us enter. While Sally found the ladies, I bought a couple of drinks.
I found a table in a quiet corner, away from the blaring television. Soon it was my turn to relieve myself.
I returned to find that she had bought some peanuts and crisps for us.
We had a second, and then a third drink. Its wasn’t our fault, the snacks were very salty.
By the time we got off the bus outside our homes we were bursting for a pee again. Hers was the nearest door, so she quickly unlocked it and rushed upstairs.
“Come upstairs and use the sink.” she shouted.
I did. She sat, finishing her gush, while I unzipped and sheepishly but urgently started my own. Her hand came up and turned on the tap.
Both more comfortable, she looked at me again, and she puckered up for another kiss.
She turned off the tap. I zipped up.
“Oh dear.” she playfully said, “I was going to kiss him too.”
Needless to say, this offer was another first for me. Remember what my ex. was like.
She led me out of the bathroom. It was clear that she was not in funds. The house was very sparsely furnished. Her bedroom door was open — I could see a mattress on the floor, and her wardrobe was a suitcase on a kitchen chair.
“I’m hungry.” she declared.
“We could order a take-away?”
“No, I’ll cook something.”
She went into her kitchen, and I heard cupboard doors being opened.
“Pasta OK? I think I have the makings.”
Now one thing that my ex. could do was to cook. She had learned well from her mother. Her cuisine showed it. We always had a roast on Sunday, cold cuts on Monday, shepherd’s pie on Tuesday, sausages, chops, fish, and so on through the week. It was well if tastelessly cooked and was boring. Her father had been a ‘I want good plain food and not messed about’ person. Potatoes every meal. He thought that brown or tomato sauce was a bit exotic. Since she had left I had survived with takeaways, ready meals and fry-ups. My trouser waist band strained with the results. The thought of someone cooking something different was very welcome.
I heard the squeak of a cork emerging from a bottle.
Sally bought a glass full of red win through and gave it to me.
“I’m not really trying to get you tiddly so I can take advantage of you. Honest!” she winked. “I needed the wine for the sauce.”
I followed her back into the kitchen. In comparison to the rest of the house this was well stocked. Sally was peeling garlic and onions. On the windowsill were pots of herbs. A small wine rack was half full. There was a table, no chairs, and one stool.
Put that there, sit down, and chop these. I did as directed, and started chopping the onions. She saw me start.
“You are useless, aren’t you.” She took the knife from me, and in a blur she turned the onions into fine dice.
She gave me a tin opener and a couple of tins. These I coped with to her satisfaction.
“You’re not vegi are you?”
I shook my head. She turned to the fridge.
“Good, this needs using.”
She took out a stub of hard dry reddish sausage. It was soon chopped and sizzling in a pan with the onions. The kitchen filled with a strange spicy aroma. I stood up to watch what was happening in the pan. She moved herself in front of me and pressed herself back against my body. My arms went forward round her waist.
“A bit higher darling.”
Her breasts filled my hands.
“Just a mo.”
She put down her spoon and her hands slid up under her blouse. She pulled it off, and her bra followed. Then she picked up an apron.
“We bahis şirketleri wouldn’t want your hands to be splashed, would we?”
As I fondled her under the apron I felt her nipples hardening, and her bum ground itself gently against me.
“It’s been so, so long” she murmurred.
“But I thought…”
“No, Bob, a lover, not a punter. A gentleman. A gentle man. It’s been so long.” She stirred the pan. “Thank you Bob, thank you.”
I cupped her breasts, and gently rolled her nipples with my thumbs.
“Its so good, So good.” Squirm. Deep breath. “No, stop, Please stop.”
Her tone of voice had changed. What had I done wrong?
“Absolutely nothing, lovey, but I need to concentrate on this,” She tapped the pan with her spoon. “And I was losing it.”
Business-like now, she told me to fill the kettle. I watched her. I watched her hair. I watched the seat of her jeans. I watched her undulating apron. I watched her face, her nose, her eyes. She licked her lips.
“Pour it in there.”
I was unaware that the kettle had boiled. I filled the indicated pan on the stove. She tipped a bag of pasta shapes into it.
We both picked up our wine glasses and sipped. I kissed a bead of wine from her lip. In mock offence she demanded a sip from my glass in return.
We were beautifully deliciously silent, watching the shapes roil in the water until she tested a piece and went back to work.
“The plates are up there.”
I reached up and lifted down the meagre stack of assorted plates and dishes. She shouldn’t have done it, but she came behind me, put her hand between my legs and fondled me. They shattered — the plates that is.
“Oh bugger!” I said.
“Later dear, later.”
I turned, we laughed and hugged.
“We will have to eat it out of the pan.”
“No, we will go to my place.”
She finished cooking, replaced the apron with her blouse, and we locked up and moved next door.
She looked through my cupboards, then disappeared back to her own house, to return with a bag from which she did the final seasoning and garnish..
What followed was like nothing I had ever experienced before. She watched me as I put the first forkful into my mouth.
“Oh love,” she beamed, “There is nothing as good as seeing someone really enjoying your cooking.”
“Nothing?” I quizzed.
“I mean it. Nothing. Especially not when they are paying me for it.”
We ate, drank the wine. Chatted.
We left the washing up. Went upstairs.
In my bedroom we looked at each other, at a loss to know how to start.
“I suppose I could give you a massage?” she grinned, “It’s the usual start?”
She helped me to undress, then indicated that I should sit on the bed to watch her disrobe seductively. I enjoyed the view, enough to make it slightly uncomfortable to lie down, face down, as she then instructed.
Her fingers lightly stroked my back, then more vigorously. Soon she was putting some force into it, and I could feel my back unknotting.
She told me to roll over. I did, and rolled to the other side of the bed in the process.
“Come back here, silly.”
“Won’t. You come here.” She pretended to sulk, She wagged her finger at me and pointed at her side of the bed. I refused, and she picked a slipper up off the floor and made as if to spank me with it, but neither of us could keep our faces straight, and she collapsed onto the bed. I pulled her towards me and we hugged. We kissed and hugged and fell asleep. I awoke twice through the night. The first time it was because I was cold, and I just emerged from my doze enough to pull the duvet over us. The second time was, as happens as you get older, and especially after drinking, to go for a pee. I thought that I had moved quietly, but on getting back into bed I felt that Sally was awake. Sure enough, a few minutes later she slipped out from under the duvet for a couple of minutes. I heard her go to the bathroom and to then pad downstairs. I heard a ceramic clink, and the water flowing. Then she returned.
“Thirsty?” I murmured.
Her reply was to snuggle up to me and kiss me. Her hand once again started to massage me, gently and erotically. Gradually I became aroused again. She gently pushed me over on to my back. Then she stopped, and I heard her scrabbling for something at the bedside. Next moment she was expertly slipping a condom onto me.
“Bob. Please can I make love with you?”
My kiss was her reply.
She gently rolled herself on top of me, bent her legs and straddled me.
“It is so long since I wanted to do this with someone.” she said as she gently pressed herself against the tip of my penis. I think she was rubbing her clitoris against me. It felt glorious, and she started panting. She moved slightly, and I could feel her slide around me. The warmth. I felt her muscles tense and relax. She leaned forwards and her breasts caressed my chest. I lifted my hands to them, supporting them and gently kneading the nipples. She just moaned.
“There’s no hurry. There’s no hurry.” I think she said. I felt that she was luxuriating in sex without a time limit.
“Just enjoy yourself.” I said.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32