Part 11 – sees me back at the Engineering Training Establishment, after my ‘Grab a Grannie’ exploits in Wales, and covers my introduction to, and seduction of, Jayne, my future wife. It has a long, slow build up, before any major sexual content, because that is the way it was and how I want to tell it. So, if you are expecting beginning to end, dirty, perverted sex, this story is not for you. You do not have to read it. Move on.
Part 11 – sees me back at the Engineering Training Establishment, after my ‘Grab a Grannie’ exploits in Wales, and covers my introduction to, and seduction of, Jayne, my future wife. It has a long, slow build up, before any major sexual content, because that is the way it was and how I want to tell it. So, if you are expecting beginning to end, dirty, perverted sex, this story is not for you. You do not have to read it. Move on.
And I do not profess to be a literary genius; so, if my writing style and grammar offend you, you know where the ‘close’ button is!
Part 11 – TFMD
After we returned from our brief detachment to Wales. The advanced engineering training course I was attending became much more routine. Classroom work, practical equipment operation and maintenance lessons and, being a military training establishment the omnipresent drill practice and compulsory PT.
Our weekly timetable included several beastings by the PTIs, where we would be subjected to circuit training, multi-gym sessions, timed mile-and-a-half runs, both in sports kit, and boots, fatigues and full packs. Occasionally they’d take pity on us and we’d get to play a bit of basketball or volleyball. One constant though, Wednesday afternoons were reserved for organised sports. This was common across virtually every branch of the UK armed forces and emergency services, allowing organisations to compete against each other in sports, such as football, rugby union, or cricket or athletics, according to season; and many others.
I was personally never any good at most team ball sports. My forte was track and field, road and cross country running, which I was pretty damn good at, captaining the team. It was after one such event that in the late winter of 1978, I met TFMD (The Future Mrs Duxass).
Winter was the season for cross country racing. Each region of the UK would hold weekly ‘heats’, competing against the other local(ish) teams, on a league basis. Each team in the region would host an event. Then the top two teams in each region would end the season, by taking part in a final race, at a chosen central location, to decide the champions for that year (Spoiler alert…it was us.)
As team captain, it was my job to organise our heat. To decide the route (a five-mile circuit over rough terrain), organise timekeepers and stewards, collate and publish results, etc. It was also the accepted norm to provide post event refreshments in the base sports and social club, usually a curry and bar facilities.
On the day, the race went off without a hitch. On that occasion we didn’t actually score maximum points, one of my best runners was injured, but gained enough to keep us in the running for the top spot. After showering off the mud we were caked in, we adjourned to the bar to enjoy a celebratory scran and a few beers.
I circulated a bit, congratulating the winners and commiserating with the ‘also rans’, before joining my own colleagues, among them, a fellow course mate, Ken. He was one of a few married guys among us, and lived with his wife in their on base married pad. Ken mentioned that he had arranged to meet his wife, Barbie, (pseudonyms, obviously) there, for a drink, when she finished work shortly.
In due course, Barbie arrived, surprising both of us by being in the company of another young woman, none other than TFMD, who was introduced to us as Jayne. Jayne was a work colleague of Barbie, and travelled with her past the base, on the same bus daily, as she returned to her home in town. Knowing she was joining Ken at the club that afternoon, she’d invited Jayne to break her journey and join us for a wet.
Jayne was a slender girl, about five feet six tall and sported jet-black hair, cut to shoulder length. On that occasion, she was wearing tight, flared blue denim jeans and a checked Ben Sherman tailored shirt, typical of the style of that era. The shirt enclosed relatively small, but well-proportioned breasts, whilst the jeans hugged a delicious looking backside and slim legs. She was pink cheeked from the chilly walk from the bus stop at the main gate, which coloured her quite pale face nicely and I noticed her nose was a bit misshapen, possibly recently broken.
Many of the visiting runners had departed, to return to their own respective establishments by then, and most of our own team had left too, so there was plenty of room for the ladies to join us at our table. Barbie asked how the race had gone, and we gave an account of the afternoon’s event and our performance. Jayne, having had no contact with military life previously, was quite intrigued that ‘this’, the sport and its after event, were considered ‘work’.
I suppose at first, to an outsider, it does seem a bit indulgent. But, even out of training, we were expected to maintain a high level of physical fitness, and were regularly tested for it. These organised sports afternoons provided just one medium for supervised exercise, as well as building team ethos and support for, and from, others. And yes, a bit of rest and recreation too. “All work, and no play… etc.”
We only had about an hour before the club was to close; it only opened restricted hours to service specific events. Us guys had stuffed ourselves with curry earlier, but the ladies had not yet eaten. So, Barbie and Ken invited us back to their gaff for coffee and sandwiches. Jayne got a guided tour of what a service married quarter was like; comfortable but nothing luxurious, but relatively cheap to rent, back then at least. (Not “you get everything free, don’t you!” as I often hear spouted.)
We spent another hour or so in pleasant conversation, before Jayne announced she really needed to get the bus back to her own place. I took that as my cue to leave also, and offered to go with her on the bus, which I too needed to take, to get back to my rented flat. She was happy to sit with me and we chatted casually en route. It turned out she only lived a few hundred yards further up the road than I, so we only parted at the last minute.
We seemed to be getting on okay and I was sorely tempted to ask her out. But I was unsure of the situation. I had caught mention of a husband earlier, but then also noted that Jayne wore no wedding ring. So, rather than put my foot in it, I decided to hold off until I knew for sure what the deal was. As we bid good night, I said it had been nice to meet her, and hoped we would see her again. “I hope so too,” she responded.
I’m pleased to say, Jayne immediately became part of our social group. She would accompany Barbie home quite often and would join our group of friends for leisure activities and pub sessions in town. I gradually pieced together her backstory. She did indeed have a husband, but had separated from him, after he got a bit too handsie for her to tolerate any longer. He had in-fact been the cause of the broken nose, which she was waiting to get properly fixed. It had put her in hospital and when she was discharged, she had abandoned their joint home and moved, alone, into the bed-sitting room she now lived in.
Jayne was now ‘one of us’ and it incensed us that she had been subjected to any sort of abuse, especially physical injury. The immediate desire was to confront the miscreant and ‘counsel him’ on the error of his ways. The female contingent of the group, as ever, sounded the voice of reason, correctly stating that meeting violence with violence was not acceptable, and could have, possible career ending consequences for us, not to mention putting Jayne in more danger. We had to accept that logic and resolved just to provide as much support and protection as we could for her going forward.
I had become very attracted to Jayne, but knowing her situation better, I did not feel it was appropriate to try and ‘muscle in’ on her misfortune, perhaps exacerbating her problems. When I subsequently heard that another member of our circle of friends, one of my flat mates actually, had made a move on her and been firmly blown off, my resolve to keep my distance hardened. And so, the status quo was maintained, and I continued to admire Jayne from a distance, albeit a short distance, as she was frequently among us.
After a couple of months keeping my distance, Barbie took me to one side and told me that Jayne had started asking about me. Was I ‘a player’? Did I have a current girlfriend, she had not heard of or seen me with anyone? Was I gay? Did she think I’d noticed her? Etc. Barbie had told Jayne what she knew of me; that I’d been engaged to a Julie before I started the course with her husband (not strictly accurate, we’d been together for some 18-months and I’d proposed, but had been turned down).
Barbie said Jayne was definitely interested in me. Despite him still pestering her to come back to him, there was no way she was going to reconcile with her estranged husband and wanted to start living her life again. A fresh life. She hadn’t started divorce proceedings yet, but had made the separation ‘legal’, meaning she was free to see anyone and do whatever she wanted, without it counting against her in a divorce court later.
Despite Barbie’s nudging, I was still dubious about taking the plunge, though secretly, my attraction to Jayne was growing even stronger. I observed her closely and realised she was indeed interacting more with me during our group outings, than with the other blokes. She would make a point of sitting next to me, and would get a little bit flirty, without going overboard. My resolve was weakening. But did I really want to get involved with what was, effectively, still a married woman.
The forces were really hot on its members not getting into ‘adulterous relationships’, and I was not sure they would accept the separation as a valid excuse. Usually ‘offenders’ would be posted, like immediately, as far away as possible from the other party. For me that would mean being kicked off my course and kissing my promotion goodbye. I had to carefully consider my position before acting. In the end though, my dick overruled my brain and my hand was largely forced, by TFMD herself.
The Easter break was on us, and we decided to have a group evening out, before we all went off for a couple of weeks ‘end of term’ block leave, at cease work the following day. I was planning to go back to my parent's home again. If I recall correctly, we went tenpin bowling, after which we, inevitably, ended up in the pub. As had become the norm, Jayne plonked herself down next to me on the bench seat at our table.
We sat having a quiet drink (it was a ‘school night’, so nothing heavy would have gone down) and chewing the fat. At one point, someone must have said something amusing. We all had a good laugh and, as was not uncommon, Jayne leant into me and laid her hand on my arm. The difference was that this time it stayed there; or more accurately, it linked through under my arm and came to rest on my forearm, and she made no move to pull away once the laughter had abated.
I too did not attempt to break the contact, why would I. I was enjoying Jayne’s closeness. The warmth of her body next to me. The occasional brush of her smallish, but firm breast on my arm. The waft of her perfume (Fidji I later learned it was called. I recently tried to get some for her as a nostalgic gift, but it’s no longer available.) At some point, I caught Barbie’s eye and saw she was smirking and sharing knowing looks with Jayne. Of course, the women had engineered this. I was being too slow on the uptake (or too stupid in their words), so they decided to force the issue. Thank you, Barbie, I will for ever be in your debt.
Come closing time, we all, Barbie and Ken included, took the short walk back to our flat for a coffee and a snack before we called it a night. Jayne remained locked to my arm as we strolled. It already seemed natural and nobody had, as yet commented openly on the new phenomenon. Let’s just suck it and see I decided.
Supper finished, Barbie and Ken needed to get back to base, and went to order up a taxi, but Stewart, my roomie, offered to drive them home; he’d had just one pint all evening. The other two residents had already turned in for the night, so Jayne and I found ourselves alone in the sitting room, sat together on the settee. It was a bit awkward at first, we had not really had any ‘lone time’ until this point. Gradually though, without any spoken agreement, we reached out for each other, embraced and started to kiss. Quite chastely at first, then with a bit more vigour.
It was then that I almost totally fucked up and ruined things before they even started. As hopefully I’ve demonstrated in my accounts so far, I’m usually quite reserved when it comes to making sexual advances on a woman. I try to be respectful and wait to be led or invited to proceed with any kind of physical contact. On this occasion, something snapped in my head. Was it because I saw Jayne as, the ‘married woman’ obviously no stranger to sex; an easy lay perhaps. If so, it was certainly completely unconsciously.
Almost at once I started to grope at Jayne’s body, zeroing in at once on her clothed tits. She tensed momentarily, then appeared to relax. Her breasts, as I have already indicated, were quite small, but felt firm and inviting in my hands. Without waiting for any sort of affirmation, I unbuttoned her shirt, and pushed up her plain, salmon pink bra, baring her pert, white, pink tipped breasts.
Pushing her back into a semi-reclining position on the settee, I went straight in, kissing and licking at her nipples, then gently nibbling on them with my teeth. After a few minutes mouthing her tits, I reached down between her partly open thighs, where through the tight, tight jeans she was wearing, the cleft of her fanny was clearly outlined. I firmly massaged up and down the camel toe, focusing my attention on where I assumed her clitoris would be.
Whilst Jayne made no attempt to halt my groping, she gave no sign that it was in any way pleasurable for her. My lust was making me blind to this, and I would no doubt have gone on to try and fuck her, forgetting that my roommate would only likely be gone for 30-40 minutes, dropping off his passengers. Jayne heard his car pulling into the parking area downstairs, pushed me off of her and dashed for the bathroom.
It started to dawn on me what a fucking imbecile I was being. Not only were my advances obviously not especially welcome that early in our, well, whatever this was between us right now, but I’d very nearly put her in an exceedingly embarrassing situation with Stewart.
Letting himself into the flat and entering the sitting room, Stewart was surprised to see me still up. I told him Jayne was still there and had just popped to the loo. Acknowledging this, he just said his good nights, and retired to our room, to bed. After a few minutes, Jayne emerged from the bathroom, her bra and blouse fully back on and fastened. Without further delay, she grabbed her coat, saying she had work in the morning too and needed to get off. I offered to walk her back to her own place, but she declined the offer, saying It was only five minutes round the corner, and she’d be perfectly safe on her own; did I detect undertones in her voice that said, ‘safer than here, at least.’ She then promptly left, without anything further being said. I sat up for another half hour or so, cursing my stupidity, knowing I’d royally fucked things up, and that was probably the last I would see of Jayne.
After duty the following day, I headed off on leave as planned, assuming there was no reason at all not to do so. I could not however relax and enjoy my time off. My mind was constantly on Jayne. Fighting with myself wether or not I should just accept I had screwed up my chances and forget her; or whether there was any way I could salvage things and perhaps persuade her to forget that part of the night had happened, rewind and try again.
After just a couple of days, I considered heading back, but realised I actually had no way of contacting Jayne. She had no phone and, although I knew roughly where she lived, I didn’t know the full address. Barbie would have known, but She and Ken had also gone away for the two weeks, so returning would have been pointless, so I stuck it out.
After a couple of days back from leave, Ken collared me and told me Barbie wanted to talk to me. I was to meet her at the NAAFI café after we both finished work that evening. It wasn’t an invitation; it was an instruction. I was waiting, with two large milky coffees when she arrived at spot on 5:30pm. I took the bollocking I was expecting like a man, albeit a very scared and humbled man.
The one-way conversation basically went: what had I been thinking! Jayne was not a piece of meat for my pleasure. She thought better of me than that. She would never hav ‘fixed us up’ if she’d thought for a moment I’d pull a stunt like that (ahh, the truth at last),etc, etc., etc. you’re an idiot, Titus, a fucking idiot. God knows why, but Jayne is willing to forgive you for virtually raping her (bit strong that). If you are still interested, pick her up, at her flat 7pm, and be ready to wine and dine her!
Surprised, but happy, that it seemed I was getting that second chance I’d hoped for, I arrived at the address given to me by Barbie, at the required time. I was somewhat taken aback when an elderly man answered the door, (the landlord, who occupied the ground floor of the building, but let out the upstairs rooms). Closing the door on me, he went to tell Jayne I was there. When she appeared a few minutes later, she was looking really hot in blouse and tailored slacks, topped off by a thigh length jacket. I think the most dressed up I’d seen her to date.
We strolled to the restaurant I’d booked. Conversation was stunted, but friendly enough. We enjoyed a nice meal, and by the time we’d finished, the awkwardness barrier had mostly been breached. I asked Jayne what she wanted to do next, and she asked to just go to our local pub for a quiet drink, which was fine by me. We were fortunate enough to get a table in a quiet corner of the lounge bar, where we could talk freely.
As I collected our drinks from the bar, I tried to assess the situation. Although we were there together, alone, there was still a tension between us. I decided, correctly thank goodness, that both of us needed to confront the elephant in the room and clarify where we stood. After settling in at the table, I wasted no more time and waded straight in. I apologised profusely for my behaviour that night before leave. I wasn’t going to make excuses; it was not excusable. But I did stress that it wasn’t the real me. That nothing like that would happen again, without her full, unambiguous consent, if that was ever to be given.
Jayne made her case too. She was attracted to me and as I’d made no move, she gone along with Barbie’s plan to push us together. She’d got impatient that night, and yes, had probably sent out mixed signals. But when I started pawing at her, she had been quite upset. In that moment, she saw me as just another bloke wanting to get in her knickers, for his own gratification (which in truth at that moment in time I was). She’d had enough of that in her failed marriage. She had wanted to slap me and tell me to fuck off, but some unknown force had told her to give me some latitude, that it could be better, and here we were. She went on, she liked sex as much as the next person, but as an equal participant, not as an object, to be taken at will. She needed me to take things slowly, and when the time was right, who knows.
We had both laid our cards on the table and we went on to agree to forget our previous encounter and start again; well, just start really. The air cleared, we both visibly relaxed. The remainder of the evening was very pleasant, we gelled well and before we knew it, last orders and closing time came. I walked Jayne back to her gaff, hand in hand this time. At the front door, we paused for a moment, agreed we were glad we’d sorted things out and arranged a next ‘date’. I quickly embraced her, and was rewarded with a brief, but very welcome and enjoyable kiss, before we parted ways.
We essentially now entered a period of ‘dating’, like a couple of teenagers, (I was actually twenty-three by then, and Jayne was two years older at twenty-five.) We did all the normal things, eating out, pub, cinema, day trips to the seaside, etc. I had a lot of studying to do for upcoming exams, and Jayne would often just sit with me, reading or watching TV as I pawed over my books. In fact, she became almost a permanent fixture at our flat, rather than sit alone in her own cold, dreary bedsit; but she always, at that point, returned to her own place to sleep.
And gradually, over a couple of months, our relationship started to become more physical too. One night, after the other residents had retired to bed (we were down to three of us by then, one had failed too many progress tests and been removed from the course, he’d get another chance the following year and passed out successfully on that second try), we were smooching on the settee, as we often did. Without warning, Jayne took hold of my hand and placed the palm directly over her breast.
I looked enquiringly at her, she simply responded “Remember, slowly”; message received. But I couldn’t help but notice she wore no bra under her shirt and her nipple was becoming hardened to my touch. I wasn’t sure if she had not been wearing it all evening or had removed it at some point earlier. Her tits were so firm, they really did not need much extra support, so it could have been either. As I massaged, I lifted my second hand, making it obvious what I intended and, glancing at Jayne, received a nod of approval to engage her other breast in the action. I stimulated both of her teats, still through a layer of clothing. Unlike before, I heard her softly mewing at my touch and even received a “Hmmm, that’s nice.” from her, through our increasingly passionate kissing. I almost flinched when I felt Jayne’s fingers come to rest on the crotch of my jeans and gently rub my stiffening cock.
I felt, although I never did find out for sure, that this was a bit of a test. My flatmates were only across the corridor in their rooms, so I knew this was unlikely to go much further, but was going to play the game out as far as Jayne was comfortable with. Taking it very gently, I started to unfasten the buttons on her shirt, ready to stop as soon as she required it. But no barrier was put up and in just a few minutes, she was open to the waist. I didn’t attempt to remove the shirt but was still able to feast my eyes on her sensational tits, properly this time. Small, but pert and proud. Her bright pink nipples were tiny, set in small, puckered areoles, and stiff as chapel hat pegs from my touch.
Continuing to gently stroke my cock through my jeans, Jayne used her other hand to draw my lips to one breast, moaning softly as I took the nipple between my teeth and nibbled softly on it. Moving to the other side, I repeated the action, sending noticeable shudders through her body.
We kept this up for several minutes. All first or second base stuff at best, but most enjoyable none the less. I’d been without feminine physical contact for some months now and could feel it would not be long before even Jayne’s light rubbing of my penis would bring me to the point of no return. So placing a hand over hers, I told her directly, “Enough or I’ll cum.”. She smirked at me and I thought, or perhaps hoped, she was going to ignore me. But a few moments later, she withdrew her hand and agreed, “Yes, enough or…”. She didn’t complete the sentence, instead she kissed me firmly on the mouth, rose and went to the bathroom, returning a few moments later properly dressed.
It was a bit of a déjà vu moment as she collected her coat and announced she was leaving. Fortunately, this time though, we parted with a sensuous hug and kiss, and joint pledges to “see you soon.” And no, I hadn’t bothered to walk her home. I knew by now that offer would be refused, so by mutual consent, I had agreed to stop offering, on the understanding she would ask if that’s what she wanted any time. I watched her descend the stairs and waved as she exited and closed the garden gate behind her.
After she had left, I realised I was still sporting a massive hard on, which had become entangled in my underwear. Undoing my trousers, with the intention of just adjusting my dressing, I miraculously found my cock in my hand, which developed a mind of its own and started to tease my foreskin back and forth over my engorged glans.
I craved release, so made no attempt to stop my hand, as it continued to wank me towards my inevitable climax. I kicked off my trousers and underwear, lay back on the settee, and lifted my shirt as high as I could. I could no more keep my hand still, than I could hold back the tide. Summoning Jayne’s tits back before me, in my minds eye, and imagining how she would look totally naked, I ejaculated explosively, coating my stomach and chest with my hot cum.
I had not exactly been quiet while I abused myself and was suddenly concerned, I could have disturbed one of my flatmates. I quickly grabbed my discarded clothes and dived for the shower to clean the gloop off of my torso and wash away my lack of self control. Once I’d dried off, I still felt I needed to ground myself, so poured a generous measure of Scotch from the bottle we kept in; for medicinal purposes of course. It was just enough to take the edge off and relax me for bed, and sleep.
It would be another couple of weeks before there was further opportunity for intimacy. We continued to see each other casually as before, with Jayne spending many evenings at our place, putting up with the banter and bollocks of three blokes, but giving as good as she got, now she had the measure of us. Then, as the weekend approached, both my flatmates announced they were going away for the weekend, to spend time with their respective long distance partners. I would have the flat to myself from Friday evening to late Sunday afternoon. The possibilities were mouth watering. When I told Jayne though, she just repeated her mantra, “Remember, slowly!”
Strangely enough, this no longer really bothered me too much. Rightly or wrongly, I took it to mean we would fuck, eventually. And our activities a few weeks earlier had indicated a, dare I say a thawing, in Jayne’s attitude towards sexual intimacy with me. I was starting to have really strong feelings for her and did not want to blow it again. So I was prepared to wait, whilst still hoping further advances could be made, maybe that weekend. After all, she had said slowly, not backwards.
Anyway, for a reason that right now has totally gone from my memory banks (she can’t remember either, but thinks it was a get together with her own parents), Jayne could not see me on the Friday night; but she did accept my invitation for me to prepare a meal for us at my place Saturday evening. I’m quite an adventurous cook, but decided to play it safe and do a simple Spaghetti Bolognaise, with a sponge pudding for dessert, which I knew she loved.
I set the table, with candles and flowers, and added a couple of bottles of wine (red for me, white for her, we never could agree.) When Jayne arrived mocked me a bit for my attempts a romance and jokingly said, “You’re really just trying to get into my knickers, aren’t you?” When I shot back, “Will it work?”, she just answered, “We’ll see. Depends on what the food is like.” My heart started racing. What did that mean. Was she just teasing or was there a chance of something going down, if you’ll excuse the pun.
The meal went off without a hitch. I’d declined Jayne’s offer to help with the cooking, ridiculously wanting to prove I could manage it on my own, but gratefully accepted help with the table clearing and washing up. I’d purposely gone easy on the wine, and she was never a big drinker, but we both took a glass to the settee with us, to sip on as we cuddled up and watched Saturday night TV. I was ‘Remembering, slowly’. What happened, would happen, but I was determined not to be seen as the aggressor.
As it turned out, nothing did happen, then. Beyond the odd extended kiss and non-intimate stroking, we barely touched each other. I started to wonder if I was playing things too safe, and that Jayne was waiting on me, as I was her. Who’s resolve would crack first. It was me, but not immediately in the way you will be expecting.
It was getting towards the time Jayne would normally head for home, and something had to give. So, I played a wild card. I told her as there was only us there, it was senseless her uprooting herself and going back to her dreary bedsit (her de***********ion, not mine, I hadn’t seen inside it yet), she might as well stay here. And to head off any protest, I continued; it would be totally on her terms. She could take my bed, and I’d sleep out here, on the sofa, which actually pulled out as a guest bed. After a few moments thought. Jayne agreed that was an acceptable proposition. Naturally, I’d hoped we’d share a bed, but this was good too.
I rose to go and put fresh sheets on my bed for Jayne, but she told me not to bother. I did however fish a clean, baggie t-shirt from my drawers for her to use to sleep in, if she wished to. We hung around in the sitting room, for perhaps another hour. I made Jayne a last cup of tea, she’s addicted to the stuff, I never drink caffeinated drinks after 6pm, they keep me awake. Drink finished, she announced she was going to bed now, used the bathroom, kissed me goodnight and disappeared into my bedroom, closing the door behind her. I sighed. Oh well.
I sat in quiet contemplation for some time, drinking another small glass of my wine. This was starting to do my head in and I was now wondering what I really wanted out of this relationship. Was it actually going anywhere, and not just sexually. As I mused, I started to prepare myself for sleep. I pulled out the sofa bed and unrolled my ‘green slug’ sleeping bag onto it, then stripped to my t-shirt and pants, before heading to the bathroom.
I finished my bedtime routine and headed back to the sitting room, where I was startled to find Jayne standing there. She was bare legged, with her top half enveloped in my t-shirt, with obviously nothing beneath it, but her body. With an almost sardonic tone to her voice, “I expected you would be in there with me by now,” she said, reaching out her hand to beckon me to her. Confused, I moved forward and allowed her to guide me to my bedroom door. As we entered, those words came again “Remember, slowly,” suffixed this time with, “To be clear, we are not going to screw, and I call the shots, agreed?” If I had thought I was confused before, it was nothing to my confusion now. And to be honest, I was feeling a bit cuckold. But of course, I agreed.
The room was illuminated only by the soft bedside lamp, but that was sufficient to see her by, as she slipped under the covers of my bed, patting the space beside her to invite me in. I felt chills through my body but was not sure if it was nerves or the actual room temperature. So just in case, I clicked on the electric heater and joined her in the bed. It was only a standard three-foot wide single, so there was not masses of room for two of us, but on the plus side, it meant we had to get real up close and personal.
We arranged ourselves, so I was spooning behind Jayne, necessarily with my crotch nestling against her firm bum, long since the object of my desire, and with my top arm draped across her body, just below her breasts. I caught myself holding my breath with anticipation, wondering if this was just a prelude to sleep or… She’d made it clear that intercourse was off the table but had intimated that she reserved the right to require other forms of contact. I was in turmoil.
However, after several minutes of just lying there, silently willing her to give me some sort of sign, Jayne did exactly that. She wriggled back against me, manoeuvring my semi-hard cock between her buttocks. Even with the two sets of underwear still between us, the sensation was wonderful, and I started to swell to her movements. At the same time, she lifted the hand I had draped across her body and placed it on her breast, cupping my palm over her and pressing it against herself with her own hand.
So, with a sign given that we would indeed be playing, the scope of those activities just had to explored. I responded to Jayne’s initiative by gently kissing and nibbling her neck, below her exposed ear, before freeing my hand on her breast and gently rolling both of her nipples between my thumb and forefinger, causing her to groan with pleasure. As I fondled her tits, Jayne reached back between our bodies, and located my now almost fully erect cock, and started to slowly rub it up and down through my pants.
Much as I was enjoying Jayne’s touch, I decided to see if we could push the boundaries a bit further. Gently I broke contact and encouraged her to roll onto her back, to give us both better access to the body parts we were fondling. When she had repositioned, I reached down to bring my hand under her (my?) t-shirt, only to find it had tangled under her butt and thighs, making it too tight for me to get into. With a frustrated sigh, Jayne sat up and, unexpectedly, pulled the garment up and off completely, tossing it on the floor beside the bed.
I was now seeing her full body for the first time, naked, save for a pair of ‘boy-cut panties’, as they are known these days. She was, as I’d imagined, slim, trim and well toned, head to foot. Her small, pink crowned tits were perfectly proportioned to her body. Through the sheer material of her underwear, I could see the shadow of a full, dark bush of pubic hair. I quickly threw off my own tee, to match her dress state, then wasted no time in using my lips, tongue and teeth on her naked breasts, delighting in their marble tipped firmness.
Encouraged by the satisfied noises emanating from her, I slowly, almost imperceptibly, worked my mouth downwards, toward its hairy goal. There was still no negative reaction to what I was doing, so when my lips reached the waistband of her knickers, I hurried on and, through the material, firmly located and licked the length of Jayne’s vulva, along the lips of her cleft. At last she spoke out, half yelling “Oh yes. That’s it. There, there!” Bingo! I finally knew what she wanted from tonight, and by god, was I up for it. With renewed vigour, I increased the length and strength of my tongue work, feeling and tasting the ever-increasing wetness seeping through from inside.
Wanting the full experience, for both of us, I grasped the waistband of Jayne’s knickers and started to peel them off. As I had hoped, she lifted her bottom, so I could clear them from her body, then raised her legs so I could remove them completely, to join our tees on the floor. I have made no secret over earlier chapters, that I am not a fan of the hairy fanny; but in that moment hers was the eighth wonder of the world to me. It was dense, full top-and-tail, and jet black, like the hair on her head. In the pale lamplight, its centreline glistened with her excitement, drawing the eye to her puffy outer lips, which were just parting, to allow her pink, wet labia to escape from within.
With a sense of urgency to give Jayne what she craved, I plunged straight back in where I’d left off, but with no barrier between respective sets of lips anymore. By now, I had grown to pride myself on my oral technique, and proceeded to plan, working up and down her cleft, screwing my tongue as deep as possible into her vaginal opening, before replacing it with my fingers, as I lapped and sucked on her labia flaps and clitoris. Her hands on my head, and moans and groans of pleasure told me I was hitting the right spot. Sticking with that winning formula, bought further entreaties not to stop. “I’m almost there,” she cooed. Soon, her stiffening body, quivering thighs and strangled screams told me she was indeed ‘there’ as her orgasm burst free. My work here was done, for now at least.
Now that we’d moved into recognisable territory, I was content. I saw a roadmap with a route forward highlighted and I felt no immediate desire to satisfy my own urgings. I’d wait until the next waypoint along the journey. As Jayne came down from her orgasmic high, I manoeuvred us back into our prior spoon like embrace, adjusted the bed covers over us, killed the light and hugged her tightly in my arms. A simple, sleepy “Thank you Titus. For understanding. For everything,” told me this was the perfect decision of the moment. And despite my raging hard on and the narrow bed. We both drifted into a peaceful slumber.
I woke first that Sunday morning, gagging for a pee. Jayne was still zonked, snoring lightly. I gently extracted myself from our embrace, which had hardly altered through the night and quietly headed for the bathroom. My toilet complete, I washed up and headed for the kitchen to brew coffee, which I took to the sitting room. Breakfast TV was still some years away in the UK, so to fill the silence, I turned the radio on low, tuning into some political argument about the death throws of the James Callaghan Government, which actually survived nearly a year after that, before being forced into an election.
Low as it was, it must have disturbed Jayne. I heard the toilet flush and water run in the sink, then moments later she sheepishly entered the room, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Seeing me sat on the settee, she smiled broadly at me, plonked herself next to me on the settee, planted a big sloppy kiss on my lips and stole my mug of coffee for herself. She was still wearing just my t-shirt from the night before and her ‘unladylike’ posture clearly showed she was still knicker less beneath, her bearded clam smiling at me from between her legs, causing the first stirrings of the day in my pants.
The orgasm of the night before must have blown some cobwebs away, as Jayne was as buoyant and jovial as I seen her for a long time. With a fresh coffee collected, we sat and chatted, discussing what to do that day, and coming up with nothing but just chilling out at ‘home’. We did decide to walk further into town to find breakfast, as we were both famished.
Coffees finished, we rose to get ready to go out, I was dressed still in only my underwear. I needed a shower, so headed straight for the bathroom and set the water running, stripped and climbed in. As I started to wash down, I felt a presence behind me and a naked Jayne joined me under the water; no mean feat as it was only a curtained, over the tub attachment.
Taking the soap from me, she started to lather up my back, down over my buttocks and through to my thighs. When satisfied with her work in those areas, she pressed close against me, breasts and bush hard against my back, and reached around to soap my front. Starting at my neck, she slowly, sensuously, worked her way down, over my chest and stomach, until she inevitably encountered my, by then, rampant cock. As she grasped me firmly in her hands, I groaned loudly at the contact and, although I’ve never pretended to be anything special in the dick department, a muttered “oh Jesus, that’s nice,” from Jayne suggested she was satisfied with what she had found.
Thoroughly soaping my genitals, Jayne started a slow, languid wanking action on my cock, rolling my foreskin back and forth over my glans, just as I love it. After overcoming the initial urge to cum immediately, I settled in for, what I hoped would be, a long slow handie. Apart from extending my own pleasure, I really wanted to bring her off again too. To start to achieve that, I reached behind me, between our wet and soapy bodies, groped for and found her vulva. After tugging gently at her short and curlies, earning me a slap on the arse, I delved between her outer lips and started to rub alternately between her rapidly weeping opening and her hard clitoris.
It became increasingly hard to maintain a constant rhythm. Firstly, because she started to wriggle and squirm around as her excitement mounted, and also because she was increasing the tempo of her own stroking, distracting me from my primary goal, her orgasm first.
I love it when a plan comes together. Jayne’s breathing became much heavier and laboured, and she started muttering groans and expletives, low at first, then much, much louder. So loud, I was worried our landlady, who lived below us, would hear. With a final exclamation of “oh fuck, yes, yes!”, I felt her vaginal muscles spasm around my fingers, and her legs tremble, as her climax peaked and rippled through her, causing her to sag to her knees in the bottom of the bath, needing to grasp its sides to support herself.
I turned to face Jayne, revelling in her satisfaction, as she recovered her senses. When she lifted her head to face me, a smug grin painted onto her face, I reached my hands down to help her stand again on the slippery bath surface. Instead of taking them, she swatted them away, and re-established her grip on my cock, which she had released during her orgasm, and resumed wanking me off. Her eyes remained locked onto mine, staring intensely at me throughout; for some reason this really, really turned me on and bought me to the brink in double quick time.
My cock was directly on a level with Jayne’s face as I reached the point of no return, so I warned her I was about to come, to give her the chance to redirect my aim. She simply lifted her face out of the firing line, fully retracted my foreskin and stroked me through to my climax. You’ve heard the old joke ‘what is gray and comes in pints?…An elephant. Well that’s what it felt like as I ejaculated shot after shot of hot semen, coating Jayne’s neck, chest and tits with my glutinous discharge. It was my turn now to sag at the knees and I joined her in kneeling in the bottom of the bath, with the rapidly chilling water playing over us.
We had almost exhausted the ready supply of hot water and quickly had to clean ourselves off before it went completely cold. When we could stand it no longer, we hopped out of the tub, to find that our athletics had soaked the floor next to the bath, so we had to mop up the flood to leave the bathroom in a presentable state for when the others returned later.
In our fervour to get naked and satisfy each other, we’d forgotten that the original intention was to get ready to go out for breakfast, so we resumed those preparations, heading to my bedroom to retrieve our clothes and dress. Before we ate, Jayne wanted to stop by her place, to get clean clothes for the day.
When we arrived at the front door, I paused, to allow her to enter alone, but she told me to follow her upstairs, the first time I’d been up there. Suffice to say, it was a dull, drab single bed sitting room, but more about that another time. She did not hesitate for a moment to strip naked again in front of me, before applying deodorant and perfume, including a cheeky squirt just above her bush, rubbing it in just to tease me, causing an immediate stirring in my loins. “Get dressed, you hussy,” I told her, “otherwise you’ll no longer be calling the shots.” She harrumphed at me, but laughed, but picked out and donned clean rags. We finally headed out and found a place to eat, what was by then ‘brunch’.
That weekend’s activities had lifted a barrier between us. Over the next few weeks, when the opportunity presented itself, we would freely indulge in more mutual masturbation and cunnilingus. Jayne even progressed to going down on me, though always finishing me off outside of her mouth; but I could live with that. We still hadn’t ‘gone all the way’, but I was confident that would come in time and did not push the issue. It did indeed happen as spring turned to summer late that June.
Unbeknownst to me, Jayne had been seeing a solicitor, to prepare divorce proceedings against her estranged husband. She was citing the clause of ‘unreasonable behaviour’, i.e., his violence towards her. The papers were about to be served on him and Jayne was genuinely frightened that there would be a backlash, including the possibility of a further physical attack on her person; he had still not fully accepted that she had left him. To provide a safety buffer until it was known how he was going to react to the divorce petition, Barbie and Ken had offered Jayne their spare bedroom for a few weeks. Being on base, there was no way he could just pitch up at the door, uninvited.
That Friday, I borrowed Stewart’s car for a couple of hours, I didn’t have my own at that time, to move enough stuff for her stay. I didn’t hang around, I thought I’d give her a bit of space to settle in and catch up on the gossip with Barbie, who I’m certain already knew of our sexual progress, because as I bid them farewell, she cornered me, inviting me to eat with them the next evening, “…and who knows, perhaps a sleepover too,” she added, continuing to play matchmaker.
Armed with a couple of bottles of wine, I pitched up at the Dreamhouse, just after 5pm. Jayne answered to door, and straight away planted a huge welcoming kiss on my lips. She’d obviously had a fun day with Barbie, as she was in a very excitable mood. Barbie did us proud, with a fantastic, full roast dinner and dessert. We all ate our fill, then some, and after helping with the clear up, we all collapsed for an hour or so in front of the TV, chatting away and gradually finishing the wine, and a couple of beers Ken provided, giving us all a mellow buzz.
Around 10:30ish, Barbie started dropping hints to Ken, that she was ready for bed. I moved to make ready to leave, saying I could still make the last bus back to town. Barbie chipped in, saying I need not leave on their account, I could stay there with Jayne, as long as you like; with huge emphasis on the ‘stay with Jayne’ part. With that, they disappeared upstairs, leaving us alone.
We sat in silence for a while, hearing our hosts go through their bedtime routine. Soon though, all went quiet upstairs. Jayne moved over to where I was sitting, sat across my lap, with her arms draped around my neck and thanked me again, for the umpteenth time, for helping her bring her stuff here, and, she continued “…for being so patient with me over the past few months,” and locked her mouth onto mine in an extended, deep kiss. When she surfaced for air, I told her I was more that happy to take things at her pace “…because I’m falling in love with you.” She gasped, locked mouths again, and wriggled with delight in my lap.
Needless to say, the wriggling soon started to activate my dick, which started to grow. When Jayne felt it hardening, she wriggled more, starting a self-perpetuating chain reaction. When I was fully erect, she stood, straddled me face on, placed her hands on my shoulders and started to rub her clothed mound back and forth on my stiffness, causing me to groan rhythmically out loud. She was obviously stimulating herself too, as she joined in the chorus.
In that position, I was able to reach under Jayne’s loose top and free her breasts from her bra, finding her nipples already marble hard and inviting. It would have been rude not to accept the invitation, so I rolled and gently pinched and pulled those teats. The mammary contact seemed to raise Jayne to greater heights, and her pelvic thrusting increased in speed to fever pitch. I was really quite taken by surprise, when after only a few more minutes of those she started to gasp out “Oh…my…god…I’m…coming,” in tempo to her motion. A sharp intake of breath and shuddering of thighs, confirmed she had indeed reached a climax.
As she came, Jayne slumped forward on my shoulder, allowing me to rain soft, soothing kisses on to her neck and the side of her face. Once she had regained sufficient composure, she raised her face to mine and kissed me. The most passionate kiss we’d exchanged so far. “You know what,” she said, “I think I love you too.” With that, she stood, took my hand in hers, and guided me towards the door, the stairs and the room she was using.
It was a typical married pad spare bedroom. Sparsely furnished, with strictly utilitarian furniture and two narrow single beds pushed together to create a makeshift double. Jayne switched on the bedside lamp, bathing the room in soft incandescent light. Standing facing me, and without hesitation, she started to strip off her clothes, until she stood before me in just a pair of plain, white, cotton briefs. I marvelled again at her slim tight body, and those small but perfectly proportioned tits, still diamond tipped from my earlier attentions. She slipped under the covers at the edge of the bed and gave me the ‘come hither’ sign with her finger.
I quickly matched her state of undress, and went to join her on the bed, but as I passed her, she grabbed at my pants and ripped them down, freeing my bulging prick, by which she then tugged me towards her. I complied to her pull (I had little choice really), and moved in on her, until I was stood at the side of the bed, my erection right in front of her face. Without further warning, still holding my cock base with one hand, Jayne extended her tongue and licked the length of my shaft, up and down from balls to tip, for a few moments, before taking me fully in her mouth. She’d blown me a couple of times previously, but this was just sensational. She worked me in and out between her lips, sucking deeply at each stroke, as she gently rolled my testicles in her free hand.
I was rooted to the spot, unable to move my legs, not that I wanted to. With a light hand on the back of Jaynes head, I encouraged her to continue the same action, as wave after wave of pure pleasure rippled through me, propelling me towards an inevitable climax, if she continued. As I approached the go/no go decision point, I tapped Jayne on the head and warned her, so she could move away and finish me off out of mouth. She took her mouth off me and then pushed me away from her completely.
What the fuck, I thought. Or at least I thought I’d thought it but must have actually voiced it out loud. “Don’t worry,” said Jayne, “we can do better than that this time. Just let yourself calm off a little first. Here, get in.”
Crossing to the other side of the bed, I slid in and lay on my side facing Jayne. Almost immediately she took my free arm by the wrist and guided my hand under the waistband of her knickers. She was moist from her earlier orgasm but wanted a bit more manipulation to ease the way for the final act. I gladly helped, using my fingers to probe her vagina and stroked her clitoris with my thumb. I was finding her underwear was restricting my way, so with her assistance, peeled her knickers off, leaving her now totally nude, like me.
I could not resist, I threw back the bed covers and, as my fingers returned to her opening, I started to kiss a path downwards, from her breasts to her vulva. When I arrived, Jayne thrust her hips to meet me, as my lips met hers, and my tongue located her hard, swollen clitoris. My dual action ministrations caused her to yell out loudly, unconcerned that Barbie and Ken were in the bedroom next to ours.
I continued my two-pronged attack for several more minutes, until Jayne stilled my progress and told me “Now, I want you now!” Reluctantly I pulled away. I had wanted to make her cum again first, because there was no way I was going to last long once I parted that Black Forest with my cock. But you can’t refuse a lady now, can you.
I moved myself between Jayne’s thighs, which she parted wide to admit me. I know you always think this the first time with a new woman, at least I always did, but I’d never felt harder, or longer, or thicker, as she took me back in hand and guided my super swollen glans to her slick opening. It was sodden, but she was so tight I simply could not penetrate her at first. “It’s so out of practice,” she quipped, “let me get on top so I can control it.”
We flipped positions and Jayne squatted over me and, holding my cock vertical with her hand, eased herself down onto it. Millimetre by millimetre, inch by inch, she worked me into her until, with a shout of triumph from her, our pubic bones met. Having achieved that milestone, she started to very slowly rise and fall, her tight interior gripping my prick like a milking machine, trying to suck the very core of me out through it.
The fumbling needed for us to achieve entry, and the ecstasy of her bouncing her tight, tight pussy on me, was doing nothing to improve my chances of holding back. Then a third, bizarre stimulus was added to the mix. Our activities had obviously disturbed Barbie and Ken, and I could hear them going hell for leather at it themselves. Hearing them fucking, because they could hear us fucking, triggered some primeval fantasy in me, and I could feel my sap about to burst forth.
I grabbed at Jayne and begged her, “Slow down a minute, I can’t hold back, it’s too much.” Bless her, she shot back, “You’ve held back long enough for me already, months in fact. This time it’s all for you!”, and she pounded on, regardless. When my orgasm hit, no power on earth could have stopped it happening. Jayne continued to fuck me hard, as spurt after spurt of my hot ejaculate shot deep into her vagina, and I truly understood the meaning of the expression ‘seeing stars’. And to this day I will still swear, I heard Barbie cry out as she reached her own orgasm, at the precise moment I shot my first bolt into Jayne or is that just too weird to be true.
Feeling me finished, Jayne slowed and halted her motion and, with me still firmly planted in her, collapsed forward onto my chest, kissed me like her life depended on it, then broke off and said “Yep, I definitely love you!” I didn’t reciprocate until much later, but I didn’t need to, it was correctly taken as read.
Slowly, nature did its thing, and my body diverted my blood supply back to more important organs, and my cock softened and fell out of Jayne. A few seconds later, with a panicked “Uh oh!”, she got up and dashed for the bathroom, cupping her hand over herself, to prevent spillage. She returned several minutes later, looking a bit sheepish, I assumed because of her hasty, naked bathroom dash, where she could have ran into Ken, as she held back my discharge. She found and put back on her knickers, but stayed bare chested, as she nestled into me. It was in that position, in silence, we drifted of to sleep.
I don’t remember the exact time span all these years later, but it had been several months since my first, stupid, non-consensual advances, until that night's final consummation of our relationship. Had it been worth the wait? You bet your arse it had. It started something that would last several decades. In my head, I’ve always been so disappointed in myself that I did not last out long enough for Jayne to climax too, that first time. But she has repeatedly told me, that was never really the plan. So, my self-depreciation aside, everything that night was peachy perfect…
Or was it? But that’s another story!
I think I can go just one more chapter. Keep your eye peeled…