British MILF housewife and the returning soldier (story)

One He had the window seat, was watching the patchwork of Oxfordshire drift beneath the aircraft when an elbow nudged him.

We’ll catch a bit of summer, eh mate? The voice came from Tom’s left, Pete Vallance in the middle seat of three. It’ll make up for being fuckin’ cold and fuckin’ wet, won’t it, eh? A chuckle, loose and phlegmy from years of hand-rolled cigarettes. It won’t make up for being shit-fuckin’-scared, though. And then perhaps as an afterthought, a concession to Tom’s youth and inexperience before it had all happened: But you were fuckin’ magic down there, mate. Got stuck in, didn’t ya.

He didn’t turn his face from the window, Tom’s eyes remained fixed on the sight of England sliding by, an odd experience since he was looking at where they’d been rather than where they were going, a quirk of the Royal Air Force, configuring the seats in the VC-10 to face the rear of the plane.

Warmer back here than it was down there, Pete.

Pete Vallance snorted. Fuckin’ bastard cold, wasn’t it, a statement he delivered in the nasal tones of his native Liverpool. Like Sennybridge in fuckin’ November. I couldn’t believe it was June. What sort of place is it that has winter in June? He cast an appreciative glance over Tom’s shoulder as the plane banked in for its approach. Great to be back, isn’t it? Can’t beat Blighty in the summer. He nudged a shoulder into Tom. The birds are gonna be all over us, kid. Wait and see, mate. The birds are gonna go mad for it. I’m gonna make the most of this leave. I’m gonna shag my way through Liverpool.

Tom turned to see a lewd grin on Pete’s face as the man rubbed his hands together, a ferret-faced Fagin in army uniform smirking with lascivious glee. He wondered at Pete’s ability, rough of manner and coarse of tongue yet able to charm the knickers off the girls with breath-taking ease. Even with teeth like a fighting patrol “ blackened and unevenly spaced “ there was no doubt whatsoever that Pete would manage to attract a willing partner when he went marauding through his home town.

So why did Tom find it so difficult?

He pondered the irony of his recently won status as a veteran and the dilemma of his persistent virginity, considered the combination of his age and virginity well past a joke. Now, the homecoming imminent, he decided to do something about it. Even if it meant a visit to Soho and spending fifteen quid for time between an anonymous woman’s legs, he was determined to do something.

These thoughts occupied his mind during the bus ride along the M4 Motorway, displaced only when he stepped off the coach when it arrived at its destination “ Montgomery Lines, home to 5 Infantry Brigade. It was an emotional welcome “ wives, parents, girlfriends and children, tearful and so obviously relieved their loved ones had returned home unscathed. He entertained a brief notion his father might be there to welcome him, but dismissed the though almost as soon as it popped into his head.

Detached from the hubbub surrounding him, and avoiding the possibility of being stiffed to join one of the work parties unloading baggage from four ton trucks, let the rear party skivers enjoy that privilege, he moved away from any over-zealous NCOs, towards the low concrete platform in front of the Quartermaster’s stores.

It was strange being back, not that he’d had time to settle in before they’d left England, three weeks in the battalion, barely time to unpack and learn the names of the other blokes whose room he shared before he’d found himself involved in a whirl of activity, organised chaos as the entire brigade prepared for a hurried departure to a heretofore unheard of cluster of islands in the South Atlantic.

But there he was, back, he’d made it, and now it was over he was glad of being thrust so quickly and violently into his trade. He’d performed well, done the business, and as a result had been accepted, totally integrated, a living cell in the organic life of the section, a blooded member of the platoon, noticed by the Company Sergeant Major and the Officer Commanding in a good way.

He idly observed the tearful reunions all around him, his mind slipping back to the subject uppermost in his mind. Tom again pondered his immediate future and considered what to do, uninvolved as he was in the cacophony of jubilant chatter, squeals of delight and shouts of greeting. There would be a short period of chaos as kit was returned to stores, weapons cleaned “ again “ and put away in the armoury. Form-filling and other bullshit would have to be endured before the lads, champing at the bit, would be let loose among the civilian populace.

There were limited options available to him. He could take a flight to Germany to visit his father or he could stick to his original plan and remain in barracks with the handful of other self-titled ˜orphans’, men who for a variety of reasons had no desire to return to the towns and villages they came from or had nowhere to go to in the first place. Staying in camp would undoubtedly involve him being sucked into drinking in the Traf or the Queens or the Exchange, listening to already well-worn stories of what they’d done on those cold, confusing and oddly exhilarating nights in June. But visiting his father didn’t exactly fill Tom with joy either.

He was just contemplating the train journey to London from Aldershot when he saw her walking towards him.

He blinked and then wondered why he was surprised to see her. It shouldn’t have been a shock that she’d come. All it would have taken was a phone call, a simple matter to find out when the battalion, and his company were due to return. She would have taken a taxi from Guildford, her and the Jack Russell terrier.

He said nothing, bashful as ever at these first meetings. He’d warm, would loosen-up after a few minutes in her easy company, her effortless friendliness pushing aside Tom’s shyness.

Then she was there, smiling and elegant, her little dog on the lead sniffing Tom’s boots.

Hello, Tom, Rita breathed. Welcome home.

He moved into her hug, the embrace that changed everything for him.

Two

Tom heard her voice coming up from the floor below, muffled and indistinct while he gloried in the luxury of a comfortable bed. Three mornings under Rita’s roof and he could picture the scene downstairs. He knew Rita would be speaking nonsense to Megan, chattering away to the Jack Russell terrier while, from the radio on the windowsill, Terry Wogan’s brogue gently cajoled breakfast show listeners to life. He lay in the big bed, hands behind his head and pictured Rita sipping her breakfast tea as she smoked the first cigarette of the day. His thoughts then shifted to how good it felt not to be sleeping in a hole in the ground, piss-wet through and freezing cold, or stuffed with four other blokes in a cabin designed for two on board a ship that heaved up and down in the huge, rolling swells of the South Atlantic.

The new day, full of summer promise, backlit the curtains while Tom pondered his feelings, the sudden realisation of Rita’s sexual allure and her attractiveness as a woman.

He muttered a curse to himself for the weakness. Bollocks. Stop it. Stop it now. It was wrong to think about Rita the way he did.

He flung back the thin cover and, with the aroma of grilling bacon tempting him downstairs, shook his head in further denial of these newly discovered emotions before he covered his nudity with a tee-shirt and shorts. It didn’t do to think too much, it would be best if he got up and got on with it. Better all round if he went downstairs and tucked into breakfast and behaved in a normal manner.

Pushing disturbing thoughts aside, looking forward to the repast being prepared below, Tom left the bedroom and padded barefoot to the bathroom along the landing. He pissed a stream into the toilet bowl, flushed it away and then washed his hands, and when he walked into the kitchen, into the cosy domesticity of it, Rita was standing in front of the stove.

She threw a smile at him over her shoulder.

Morning! Rita trilled, full of the joys. There’s tea in the pot. You’re just in time. I was about to call you. Breakfast will be ready in a couple of minutes.

Tom found himself staring at the feminine shape of her, his penis reacting to the sweep and curve of Rita’s hips and buttocks when she turned back to the stove and unwittingly gave him free reign to look.

It was happening again and he didn’t want it to. It was wrong to sexualise Rita, to reduce the kindness she’d shown him “ not just over the last few days but all his life “ to something sordid.

But he couldn’t help it and was confused at this new perception of her as a woman, a sexual entity. It had never occurred to him before, in the past she’d simply been ˜Rita’, his mother’s friend from way back, but since she’d hugged him close to her outside the Quartermaster’s store, ever since he’d felt her body pressed to his, recognised the ripe, voluptuous body and sniffed the scent of her hair, he’d seen her in a different light.

That was the first occasion of these disturbing sensations, the first time his cock had swelled and thickened for Rita.

Despite his body’s urges and the sudden, unexpected flare of desire, it had felt wrong to Tom. Hell, Rita was like family, and it disturbed him that he could now see her through adult eyes, was able to recognise her as an attractive woman.

In fact, and Tom was flabbergasted that he’d never noticed “ how could he have been blind to it? “ Rita’s appeal went far beyond attractive.

Disconcerted in the extreme he moved towards the kitchen counter. Fortunately Rita’s attention remained on her task and she didn’t notice Tom’s trembling hand as he poured tea from the pot into a mug. Thus spared any awkward questions, with the tea poured, Tom thunked the pot down onto the counter and, with his mind reeling with all manner of emotions concerning Rita’s sexual appeal and his body’s response to it, carried the mug across the kitchen.

He placed his brew on the table, liquid sloshing, almost spilling it across the cloth-covered surface due to the tremor in his hands. He sat in one of the ladder-backed chairs, its feet scrawking across the tiles when Tom shunted forward to tuck his knees under the table.

The struggle to supress the internal wrangling continued as Rita prepared his breakfast. Tom willed his erection to subside when, attempting to speak normally, he croaked, You don’t have to cook for me every day. I don’t want to be any bother to you.

Rita chuckled and, still facing the stove, turned bacon on the grill with deft, efficient movements of the tongs. Don’t be silly, she called back. You’re no bother at all, darling. As I keep telling you, it’s lovely having you here.

Being called darling by Rita was nothing new, not from her. Tom had heard it hundreds of times over the years. He knew it was just the way she was, sprinkling endearments like darling and sweetheart with casual abandon in her everyday conversation.

Then Rita turned, her torso swivelling, presented to Tom in three-quarter profile. The button-fronted blouse stretched tight across her bosom, the rounded hint of the inner flank of one breast visible, a crescent of skin that drew Tom’s eyes. He gulped, forced to physically supress the moan that threatened to bubble out of him. His instinct was to stand and go to her, to take hold of her and pull Rita close. He wanted to kiss her and rip the buttons from her blouse, to bury his face in that flesh and inhale the scent of her.

What would her tits look like? How would they feel cupped in his palms?

In his head Tom saw Rita’s boobs swelling over the cups of her bra, one nipple peeping over the diaphanous material “ a thick and elongated teat he could suck between his lips.

He imagined Rita grinning at him, teasing him with her breasts, her eyes sparkling with devilment as she pulled the bra down and exposed herself to his hungry stare.

Feel them, Rita murmured.

She hefted her heavy breasts with both hands and offered them to Tom.

Suck my tits, darling. Kiss me. Feel me ¦ Oh fuck, Tom ¦ I’m so fucking horny for your touch. Lick my nipples, my lovely boy.

Her hand reached for the front of his shorts.

So hard, she breathed, eyes flashing with arousal. Is it for me? Are you going to fuck me with this?

Rita’s voice brought Tom back to reality. Like I said last night, Tom, I’m glad of the company. It’s wonderful having you here. I’m pleased you came home with me. Her head tilted as the look she gave him stretched to a stare fixed on Tom’s face. I know you said you should really go and see your dad, and maybe you can ¦ in a few days. But I hope you’ll keep me company for a little while longer. Megan’s all right but her conversation’s limited.

Rita heaved a sigh and shook her head, looking fondly at the little dog sitting by her feet while the animal’s snout pointed upwards towards the frying pan.

Anyway, Rita continued, regarding Tom again. You’re welcome here whenever you feel the need to get away from the army. I’d like you to feel that you can come and see me any time. A beat before she continued. And since your mum¦ Rita paused and blinked, eyes glistening. Well, I’d hate to lose touch with you because she’s gone, Tom. Rita sniffed and cuffed at her eyes. You’re very special to me, darling. I want you to know that.

He sat there when Rita turned away and busied herself in front of the grill, his mind a whirl of impressions and vague memories of other times he’d been a guest in Rita’s house, before Rita’s divorce and his mother’s death. He blinked and said nothing, unable to form a coherent sentence when Rita plonked the plate in front of him, her hand touching his shoulder as she moved past.

Tom’s body tensed when Rita’s fingers squeezed his shoulder.

I’m going to the hairdressers this morning, she said, her tone brighter. And I thought we could go out tonight? It’s been ages since I dressed up and I’d love to go out. Would you like that, Tom? Would you take an old bird like me out for a drink? Rita dropped an eyelid onto her cheek in a slow and theatrical wink. We could pretend it’s a date!

A laugh tinkled out of her.

I’ll get my hair done, have a little girly pampering and get all dolled up. I’ll make myself gorgeous for you, darling.

The hairs on the back of Tom’s neck rose. Rita was right there beside him, hands on her hips, looking so beautiful. So sexy. If he dared to do so he could reach out a hand and¦

He could still feel her touch on his shoulder, the pressure of her fingers when she’d squeezed. The words came out of him, thick and clotted: You’re already gorgeous, Rita¦

Silence lengthened between them.

You lovely man, she murmured eventually, taking a step towards him. Rita hesitated and then tipped forward, bending at the waist to lean in before kissing the top of his head. Her hand squeezed his shoulder again. That’s so kind of you to say.

He could have said it wasn’t kindness, Tom could have simply told Rita he meant it. He couldn’t deny it any longer, not to himself. It was so simple “Tom fancied the arse off her.

The images came to mind, lewd and vulgar and very arousing: Rita’s round buttocks on the table as she perched there, legs folded at the knee, labia splayed with her fingertips, pussy sodden and pink and gaping. He pictured himself kneeling and lapping at her sex, tasting her desire, breathing in the musk of her yearning.

Would she moan and gasp, head lolling back, eyes closed, breasts thrust towards the ceiling while Tom fucked into her body and Rita’s insides clenched around him? Would the piston of his cock cause Rita’s body to squelch and fart around his girth while they fucked? Would Rita whisper obscenities into his ear and goad him with a potty-mouthed litany, exciting him to orgasm, begging him to fill her with his seed?

But Tom daren’t give voice to those base desires. How could he? How could he tell Rita that he thought her so sexy, so fucking desirable he wanted to lift her skirt and yank her knickers to one side? It was impossible, there was no way he could tell her he wanted to turn her around and have her bend over, elbows on the table, her rump thrust rearward, cunt angled towards the arrogant jut of his cock.

Just look at the time, Rita said, shattering Tom’s reverie yet again. I’ve got my appointment at the hairdressers. I’d best get ready.

She turned and left Tom sitting there staring at her back as she hip-swayed away, the breakfast cooling on his plate.

**

Rita couldn’t be sure, but she had an inkling he fancied her, that “ for whatever reason “ Tom had realised she was more than his departed mother’s friend. She entertained a quick notion of him alone in bed, wondered if he ¦ thought about her.

Stop it, she chided. It’s nothing. He was just being kind.

You’re already gorgeous, Rita. The way he’d said it, instinct told her he’d meant it. It was in the sound of his voice and the set of his face. But instinct wasn’t certainty, she could have it wrong, so very wrong, and it was the uncertainty that shackled her.

We could pretend it’s a date. Her face warmed, the blush rising from her throat to burn in her cheeks when she recalled the silly little laugh that followed the girlish flirting.

Silly bitch. Behave.

But the insistent desire wouldn’t be denied its voice; she couldn’t help the liquid heat between her legs, the pulse of her clitoris and breasts aching to be touched.

God but she wanted his touch.

When had it changed for her? She knew exactly when it had happened, when her perception of Madeline’s son had shifted to the carnal. The precise moment had come when she’d seen him at his Passing-Out Parade, when Tom had graduated from that awful grey barracks in Aldershot after his basic training. He’d been so full of pride as he’d shown off the partitioned room that smelled of floor polish, accommodation for eight of them divided into two spaces of four by a painted plywood wall. Tom had given them the tour, Rita and that miserable-faced sod of a father, regaling them with horror stories of torture in the gymnasium, recounting humorous anecdotes of the barrack block, him doing his best to impress his dad while the man’s jealousy, so obvious to her but fortunately to which Tom was blind, showed in his sneer. Rita had experienced a rush of tenderness towards the boy as she’d studied his profile, him bursting with acheivement, that when he’d turned and noticed her appraisal, when he’d smiled at her, Rita was shocked at the sudden and near overwhelming urge to kiss his mouth.

Tom had haunted her thoughts that night: him in his uniform, resplendent and handsome, the mouth she’d wanted to kiss smiling at her. She imagined him there in her in bed, his hands on her body, the weight of him on top of her, the girth of him filling her, stretching her open before they began to move together.

Then, in April there had been the gut-sinking news of potential conflict. There had been the worry during May as the Task Force steamed south, and the sleepless nights in June when they were ashore and marching across the island. Even when the good news came and it was over Rita still worried, going so far as to phone Tom’s father in the camp in Germany, unable to rest until she knew categorically that Tom was alive and well.

He’s fine, was the terse response from the god-awful man. What had Madeline ever seen in him? I don’t know any details¦

A pause and Rita knew there was something coming. She suspected he wanted something, a favour or some such.

¦But, since you’re in Guildford, when they come back ¦ I’m busy here ¦ I wondered if¦

The self-serving, career-minded bastard couldn’t be bothered to fly back to England to see his son’s return. Anyone else would be proud, but not that cold-blooded prick.

I’d be happy to, Rita had said, her tone all sweetness and light. As if she’d miss it. A pleasure. Leave it to me. If you could just let me know a time, a place to go¦

And when she’d hugged Tom close she’d felt it. With people all around them, when Rita and Tom had shared that first embrace she’d felt his body tense, muscles tightening in his back while her arms encircled him and the sudden protrusion had prodded her.

His cock had been between them, a memory Rita had used while lying in her own bed while she moaned and sighed into the dark, desire molten between her legs.

**

Tom could hear her moving around upstairs. He sighed and looked down at the dog who, ever hopeful of some treat from the table, head tilted in a likeness of the HMV icon, sat near his feet.

What am I going to do, Meg? he asked. Brown eyes in a foxy face regarded him, but no answer was forthcoming. I’ve got this problem, you see. Megan blinked and licked liquorice lips. She whined and shifted on her haunches. Tom chuckled and sliced a sausage, dropping the pieces onto the floor. You don’t care, do you? You don’t give a stuff I’m a virgin. You’re not bothered that I’d love to shag Rita.

The terrier sniffed the meat with a fastidiousness that could only be found in a dog that didn’t have to share food with any other of its kind. Her head dipped and she picked the pieces of sausage before chewing and swallowing and then pointing the damp blackberry of her snout towards Tom again.

Tom ignored her and automatically worked through his breakfast. He couldn’t taste a thing, didn’t register the food at all because of the lurid fantasies which filled his head.

He listened for the occasional sound from the floor above, Rita moving around in her bedroom.

He could go to her; he could push away from the table and go upstairs, perhaps catching Rita in her underwear.

Oh, hello, Tom, you caught me by surprise.

Her smile caused a frisson of lust to thicken his cock.

Tell me, darling, should I wear this bra¦? She thrust her chest at him, breasts spilling over the cups while holding another bra up for his appraisal. ¦Or should I try this one instead?

Without waiting for a response, Rita, with a calm gaze locked on Tom’s face, gauging his reaction, unclasped the bra she wore and allowed him to stare.

Or I could just stay like this¦

She moved her shoulders and those big tits swayed.

I could stay here, with you, like this. I don’t need to keep the hair appointment, not now you’ve come to me. Her smile shifted to a calculating grin. Shall I take my knickers off too?

Oh, fuck¦ Tom groaned. Megan, what am I going to do?

**

He invaded her personal space, trespassed into a place he had no right to enter.

He peeped into drawers, handled personal items–

her underwear ¦ lacy garments that had nestled close against the most intimate places on Rita’s body

–He snooped into her wardrobe.

Be good. See you later, Rita had called. There was some murmured exhortation to Megan, the dog’s nails clicked across the tiles and then the front door had clicked shut.

Tom forced himself to wait for a full ten minutes, his conscience counselling against his abhorrent intention throughout. But, inevitably, with Rita and the dog out of the house, the inner voice of morality lost the battle and Tom found himself outside Rita’s room. His heart thudded inside the rack of his ribs with a strident lub-lub of such resonance that Tom could picture the organ pulsing rapidly, bouncing around inside him. He watched his palsied hand rise to touch the door, mind oddly detached, a disembodied third party witnessing his crime.

He gulped down the urge to barge in and ransack the place, remaining lucid enough to realise that he couldn’t leave any sign he’d been in the room.

He paused, assailed by persistent doubts about the wisdom of forthcoming actions.

Tom stood there, one foot inside forbidden territory.

What the hell was he doing? It was wrong, so very wrong. This was betrayal, a sneaky and cowardly way to behave. Rita didn’t deserve this. No matter how he felt about her Tom knew he shouldn’t be where he was at that moment.

The act he was on the cusp of performing was out-and-out wicked.

What would his mother say?

Tom was ashamed.

He turned away from Rita’s door, newly resolved. He would push carnal fantasies about Rita out of his head. The persistent, lingering virginity would be dealt with by sticking to his plan. London was a quick train journey away. Get down there, visit a prostitute. Fifteen or twenty quid and job done, and with virginity lost, hopefully along with it would go the ridiculous and cumbersome shyness around the opposite sex.

Yet two minutes later he found himself in Rita’s boudoir.

Beyond the point of no return Tom crept around on the balls of his feet, and it wasn’t until he felt the burn in his chest that he realised he was holding his breath.

Twat, he muttered. Why are you creeping about? Just get in, have a quick shuftie and get out. Leave the place exactly as you found it.

Drawers were carefully opened one after the other, a quick glance inside before moving on. He had no real idea of what he hoped to find, he just hoped there would be something.

It was a thrill, an illicit buzz, looking through Rita’s things. But nothing shocking was forthcoming, only an extensive collection of lingerie in a wardrobe. Nothing kinky like leather or rubber, just lacy, diaphanous knickers, a few corsets clipped to coat-hangers, neatly arranged garter belts and piles of stockings. The floor of her wardrobe “ a mirror-fronted behemoth “ was covered with shoes, over a dozen pairs of high heels.

Then the guilt and recriminations hit him. Before Tom had left the bedroom he was wracked with self-loathing and self-reproach.

And it had all been for nothing. He had trespassed for no gain, had succumbed to base desires and betrayed a woman who had been his mother’s best friend, the same woman who had been kind enough to meet him off the bus and invite him into her home.

The worry began to gnaw. Had he disturbed anything, was there any sign of intrusion? Was he certain the room was as he’d found it.

Yes, he was. Tom was confident Rita would never know.

But he couldn’t be absolutely sure.

Somehow he resisted the urge to go back into the room, conscious that by doing so he might then, by revisiting the scene of the crime, do something that would lead to the uncovering of his offence. No, it would be best to leave well alone. Better to watch television or read than go upstairs and make things worse. He could go for a walk, enjoy the summer outside rather than sit inside and dwell.

For two hours he tried to supress the mish-mash of emotions welling inside him. He showered, masturbating beneath the spray, his ejaculate bursting from him on a gasp and a groan. Tom’s knees almost buckled when the jizm pumped out of him. The stuff swirled around the drain set in the floor of the cubicle and he pressed his hands against the tiles to stop himself falling.

He dressed and then walked aimlessly, unfulfilled by the physical purge, hungrier for Rita than ever before finding himself at the top of the high street. He’d moved through prosperous avenues, his mind blank to the affluence of the commuter belt, unconcerned by the size of the houses he passed on the way. Uppermost in his mind were the persistent images of Rita and concerns over what he’d done to her.

It had to stop. It had to stop immediately, before he said or did something to ruin everything.

He would drop down to London, visit a girl in Soho and get it all out of his system. Tom resolved to be bolder around women his own age, maybe get a girlfriend and put Rita out of his mind completely. He would concentrate on his career and try to get some courses under his belt for promotion. He’d knuckle down and work hard, move through the ranks and do well for himself. He could do as well as his father and gain a commission, become an officer.

All of this passed through his troubled mind while Tom sat on the bench outside WH Smith and watched the world go by. The sun beamed down unnoticed while Tom, with his plan firmly set in his mind, wondered about the people he saw and the troubles they might be dealing with. For a moment his mood soared “ nobody hurrying past had been where he’d been, done what he’d done. They were going about their lives without knowing what being alive really meant. How many of them had risked all at such a young age? He, at twenty, his birthday falling during the voyage south, had been there and done it. Tom experienced a sudden a ripple of contempt for the civilians around him, scoffed at their humdrum existence before, moments later, the arrogant, self-congratulatory and oh-so-smug sentiment evaporated. How many of these people had behaved in the despicable way he had that morning? How could he sit there feeling superior after such mean and sneaky behaviour?

Guilt settled deeper in the pit of his stomach.

Shit, Tom muttered. He rose from the bench and vowed to never behave that way again. He’d deal with the business in hand and live a clean life from then on.

But in the end he couldn’t stop himself from taking another quick look in Rita’s bedroom.

**

On the second circuit, with the wardrobe doors flung wide, Rita’s lingerie in front of him, with the vast collection of high heels at his feet, Tom again imagined Rita displayed in some combination of the flimsy garments.

His mind began to work and he saw Rita sprawled on the bed, her pose seductive, the ripe, lush curves of her body packed into a corset. In his head Tom pictured her, legs covered by stockings, her thighs wide, shoes providing the finish, a final polish as she grinned from the bed, the gusset of her underwear stretched tight over a plump pudendum.

His cock thickened and, without recalling how, he found himself stroking the stiff length of gristle as another lewd fantasy took shape.

Fuck ¦ Rita, Tom gurgled, his fist working faster and faster. You’re so fucking sexy. I want to fuck you. I want to suck your tits and fuck you.

The woman on the bed held Tom’s gaze with a feline stare. She smirked and, with a breath-taking casualness, yanked her knickers aside and exposed the pelt of her pubic bush.

Yes, Tom grunted, the hint of Rita’s scarlet slash peeping from that hirsute place between her thighs. Show me more, Rita, he mumbled, cranking away at himself. Show me your tits. I want to see your tits.

Without a word, a crooked smile on her face, lips painted deep red “ the colour of danger “ Rita spread her legs wider, slid a forefinger between her labia while with her other hand she hauled one breast from the cup of the corset. She gasped and winced, a solitary finger moving over her clit, tickling herself there while she exposed a second breast to Tom’s gape-mouthed stare.

Tom gulped and shook his head, the image fading to re-form as Rita kneeling on the living room sofa, arse presented to him while an arm reached back over her hip to part the globes of her buttocks.

Rita smirked, her torso twisted as she regarded him over her shoulder, eyes twinkling. Lick me, she murmured. She moaned and sighed and slid a finger into her body. Come and taste me. Lick me and then fuck my mouth, darling¦

The irreversible surge began, but Tom, through the mist of madness, had the presence of mind to recognise that the stain of his ejaculate, if allowed to pump from him unchecked, would be bound to splash all over Rita’s clothes and shoes. He reached out and grabbed a handful of underwear, wedging the bundled garments against the head of his cock with one hand.

Fuck¦ he grunted. Oh shit ¦ Oh fuck¦

He buckled at the waist and whined in desperation, attempting to hold the deluge in check, hoping to contain the spunk jetting from the eye of his cock with the bundle of fragile cotton.

Tom turned and back-heeled both wardrobe doors closed before he shuffled from the room. His gait was a short-stepped scuttle, with him leaning almost double, sodden knickers wadded with both hands around his cock, fraught with concern should a single dollop of goo plop onto the carpet.

It was inevitable that as Tom blotted at himself with rolled up sheets of toilet paper, with Rita’s underwear in the bathroom sink, he heard Megan’s excited bark. He froze, wide-eyed and gape-mouthed with shock and disbelief when the dog’s yap-yap-yap heralded their return.

Tom blurted an oath and threw the tacky mess of soiled tissue into the toilet bowl while apprehension swelled in his chest.

He railed and cursed in silence, recriminations screaming inside his skull. Why had he gone back into that room? Had he left any clues behind this time? Would she be able to tell her space had been invaded? And most concerning of all, would she notice the underwear was missing?

The problem then clamoured for attention: Rita’s knickers, what the hell was he going to do about that little obstacle? Laundering the spoiled items and returning them to her bedroom undetected was an issue ahead of him. Tricky in the extreme.

Tom flushed the toilet, shoved his flaccid cock back inside his shorts and scooped the cum-drenched wad of cotton from the sink.

We’re home! trilled Rita from downstairs.

Tom scuttled across the landing. Be down in a sec!

Would Rita notice the shaky edge in his voice?

In his bedroom he dithered with indecision. There seemed to be nowhere suitable to hide the evidence.

A scampering sound from the stairs signalled Megan’s ascent, with Rita no doubt following.

Tom stuffed the underwear into the zippered compartment at the top of his bergan rucksack and sat on the floor, forcing himself to calm, to breathe deeply.

Shit, he hissed through clenched teeth when he heard Rita move into her bedroom.

**

The day passed into early evening with no sign from Rita that she harboured any notion of Tom’s illicit visit to her room. She had passed by Tom’s bedroom without knocking, simply calling out in passing that she was back and that she was looking forward to a pleasant evening out.

He sat in one of the easy chairs in the living room and attempted to read as sunlight poured in through the open window. The book was an exercise in futility and he couldn’t concentrate, not with Rita upstairs, her footsteps moving from bathroom to bedroom, a constant distraction as she made her preparations for their evening out. Tom expected a confrontation any moment, was convinced Rita was bound to notice her underwear was missing.

The sound of her decent caused Tom’s stomach to flip. He heard her tread on the stairs and his sphincter tightened.

But a moment later, her entrance preceded by Megan trotting into the room, a smiling Rita appeared. What do you think?

Tom took all of her in, his eyes moving from red-painted toenails peeping from open-toed shoes, over finely sculpted calves to where the hem of the button-fronted dress, light cotton, a garment with a bright floral design, perfect for a summer evening, fell to a flattering point above Rita’s knees. His gaze lingered for a few seconds on the scooped neckline, attention caught by an enticing décolletage decorated by a thin gold chain that garlanded Rita’s throat. The small heart-shaped pendant dangled at the apex of Rita’s cleavage, drawing Tom’s eyes, and when, eventually, his inspection moved further, Tom saw a platinum blonde bob feathered around Rita’s face, her lips coloured the same firebrand red as her toes.

The same shade she wore in his fantasies.

Rita spoke again, repeating the question in the face of his slack-jawed boggling: So, Tom, what do you think? Will I do? You won’t be embarrassed to be seen out with me, will you?

Tom’s mouth worked, gaping open and then closing before he managed to blurt, You look gorgeous. Wow, Rita¦

The smile broadened and lit Rita’s face. She brushed hair away from her temple. Really? Do you mean it, Tom? Are you being honest or just humouring an old bird?

Overwhelmed and unable to hide his admiration, his pulse racing, Tom replied. I mean it. Honest, Rita. You’re lovely.

Well, darling, why don’t you go and put on a clean shirt and you can show me off around town.

**

She was almost certain he felt the same, that Tom wanted her the way she wanted him. However, almost certain meant doubt remained. It had been there again, the look in his eyes and the catch in his voice, and he’d called her gorgeous again as well. But the lingering doubt that trickled into the pit of her stomach made her reluctant to probe, cautious in word and deed.

What do you think, Megan?

The terrier perched on the settee and blinked, her head canted to one side.

Should I say something or not? Do you think he knows I went to all this effort just for him? Rita checked the perfect helmet of sculpted blonde hair in the mirror and adjusted the pendant at her throat. God, I don’t know why I’m in such a state about it; I should just seduce the bugger; get him squiffy and lunge for his cock.

With an agile leap Megan jumped off the sofa and trotted to her mistress. She inspected Rita’s shoes, sniffing delicately before lifting her muzzle.

Seeing the brown eyes regarding her Rita chided the animal.

You’re bloody useless, she said with a smile, the tenderness of her tone belying her words. No use at all when it comes to men. Rita sighed, undecided. She would have to play it by ear, a moment would present itself. She would just have to be ready when it did.

Three

They left the house and walked towards the town centre and a popular riverside pub, disappointing Megan who had hoped to be included in the outing.

Inside the pub it was packed, but providence would have it that two men were just leaving a table in the beer garden outside. Tom left Rita settled and pushed through the heaving throng towards the bar. He waited patiently, his mind constantly working over the events of the day, anxiety gnawing at him until the barman finally acknowledged his presence.

Tom had just placed a sweat-beaded glass of vodka and lime in front of Rita, had no sooner sat on the bench opposite her at the picnic table, one of several set about the lawn at the rear of the pub, his pint of beer in hand, when she began.

Tom, can I ask you something?

Worry gripped his vitals, a vice clamped his guts.

She knew! Rita knew he’d been snooping. She knew, somehow, that he’d defiled her underwear.

His mind raced, heartbeat revving while he struggled to think of a response to the inevitable. Then it registered that Rita had said something else, added something he hadn’t caught.

Tom blinked.

What?

I asked if you’re all right, Tom. You seem distracted ¦ Distant, as if something’s on your mind.

Tom shook his head to support the evasion, his eyes sliding from Rita’s face.

Uh ¦ No. I’m okay. He sipped at his beer and avoided her intense scrutiny. I’m okay, Rita. Honest. Damn, now he was lying to her.

The hubbub of a summer night, a Friday night at that, swelled around the couple as Rita leaned forward and reached out a hand.

Time slowed for him and Tom noticed the thin gold strap of |Rita’s watch, a delicate adornment on her wrist when her fingers brushed the back of his hand.

Are you sure, Tom? she persisted, her voice low. Is it ¦ is it something to do with what you saw ¦ you know ¦ something that happened ¦ down there, in the Falklands?

Rita hesitated, a fingernail tracing a light pattern over Tom’s wrist.

Or is it me? she added on a whisper.

The finger ceased its meandering and Rita eased back away from him.

Do I make you feel uncomfortable, Tom?

He felt the heat rise and cursed inwardly as the blush rose in his face, a hot tide of embarrassment that had him reaching for his pint to hide his discomfit. Three quick swallows and half the beer disappeared.

Whatever it is, you can tell me, darling.

Would she never shut up? How could he stop this?

He sat there in silence while pub noises continued to rise and fall around him. The curious detachment came over him again, the same feeling as when he’d been in the middle of all that joyous activity after stepping off the bus and sidling away to the front of the Quartermaster’s store. He was part of the scene yet oddly uninvolved. The happy crowd surrounding him had no bearing, no influence on how he felt inside. They were extras in a film about him, although now the difference was another actor had joined the cast.

He wanted to tell her but was held back by guilt, fettered by the thought of his mother’s reaction if she was there with them. It was the same old story of tongue-tied inaction. The words were there but refused to come.

Yes, Rita, it’s you. I can’t tell you how much I want to lean in and kiss you right now. You’re sitting there, so fucking lovely, so gorgeous, but I just can’t bring myself to tell you. I can see you looking at me now and I wonder what it would be like kissing you. My cock’s hard from me just thinking about you taking off that dress. I want to see you naked, Rita. I want to watch you sucking my dick. Fuck ¦ can’t you just understand that I want you to wank my cock and let me fuck you? It isn’t anything to do with the army, Rita. It’s nothing to do with any of that. It’s all to do with you and how much I want you.

In the end he mumbled, I ¦ I’m okay, Rita.

**

Their glasses were empty again, and once more, for the fourth time, Rita suggested a refill. When Tom had gone, swallowed up by the crowd she analysed her position.

The vodka buzzed in her head, she was in that place, bubbling with confidence, the benign evening slowly turning inky-dark as Rita decided enough was enough and the time had come.

No more messing about.

And when she saw him returning, his trim, athletic figure moving over the patio towards her, Rita’s resolve stiffened.

She lit a cigarette and watched him as he placed the glasses on the table and sat down.

Can I be frank with you, Tom?

His eyes slowly lifted, drawn upwards by the silence that followed between them. And when Tom’s eyes eventually met her appraisal she felt a hollowness balloon in her stomach, an aching void, the yearning for fulfilment.

The urge to lift up a hand and caress the side of his face was almost overwhelming, breath hitched in her chest and it was suddenly difficult to breathe. Her heart felt as though it was being squeezed, her mouth opened but nothing emerged.

She saw his eyes snatched away and wondered at his inability to look at her.

It was the weight of his sigh that provoked her, that desolate sound and the three large vodkas inside her as well as him breathing, Oh, Rita, that was the catalyst.

Tom, she began, hesitating still. Rita sucked at the cigarette and blew smoke skywards. I have to tell you something. It ¦ It’s difficult for me and I’m worried that I’m going to make a fool of myself. But, the thing is, well, I seem to have a bit of a crush on you, Tom.

The cigarette waved in airy circles and Rita giggled.

I know you probably think I’m a silly old woman¦ She sighed and shook her head. ¦And you’re probably right. But the thing is ¦ I can’t help it. It’s been on my mind for a few days.

Another pause while she considered her words.

Well, actually it’s been longer than that, it all really started when I came to your passing-out parade, Tom. I realised then that you’ve blossomed into quite a handsome man.

Oh God, I’m blushing.

And I was so worried about you ¦ When you were away. And now you’re back and here and–

Oh, Tom. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make things awkward. But you said things to me that made me think ¦ I just wondered. I mean, do you like me, too?

**

Tom boggled, not quite believing what his ears heard, what Rita had said.

And still she kept on, babbling in her rush to get it all out before he had a chance to react.

Oh, I know your mum and me were friends forever, I’ve known you since you were born ¦ But you’re a man now, Tom. A brave, good-looking man, and I find you very, very attractive.

Anyway, that’s about it, Tom. I had to say something because I think that perhaps, just maybe, that you might like me a little bit, too. I hope you do, Tom. At least a little. I hope you find me a bit attractive but I’m not sure. I’m as old as your mother and you probably think I’m a fat old dollop. Rita’s gaze slid away for a moment but then returned. But you said I looked gorgeous ¦ Did you mean it, Tom? Do you really think that, or was it just something kind to say?

The candid outpouring staggered him.

Rita, he croaked. I ¦ uh ¦ I.

To Tom’s horror he saw Rita’s eyes widen, her expression aghast.

Oh God, she gasped. I’ve made a fool of myself, haven’t I?

The sense of dismay deepened when Tom realised Rita had mistaken his stuttering for revulsion. He watched her reaching for her for her bag, her head shaking from side-to-side.

I’m sorry, Tom, Rita mumbled as she rose to her feet. Her face tilted skyward as she stood there, fist clenched at her side. Why did I say it? You stupid woman. You stupid, foolish woman. What were you thinking?

He had to make her stop, had to put an end to Rita’s self-castigation and make her understand how he felt.

I meant it, Tom blurted.

The thought that Rita was about to leave forced the words out of him, that her obvious pain and humiliation were unnecessary, a mistake.

Rita, I meant what I said. Honest, I meant it. I really do think you’re lovely. I just didn’t know how to tell you. I daren’t say anything. I mean ¦ shit ¦ come on ¦ look at you¦ Tom’s cheeks ballooned as the air blew out of him.

Understanding and relief softened Rita’s with delighted surprise.

Oh my God. Tom ¦ Really?

He nodded. Really.

Do you like me enough to kiss me?

**

It would stay with them both for years. Their return to the house, walking hand-in-hand past the gates, the light fading quickly by that time, would linger in memory. There was no hurry, no rush; it was as though now their feelings had been revealed they had time to dawdle, sharing kisses as they paused frequently, murmuring endearments, both slightly dazed.

For Tom his lack of experience held him back, prevented him from rushing Rita along. Part of him was eager to get her home, keen to strip her bare and to lunge at her with his hard-on ready for action. But his naivety prevented any impetuosity, and Tom wondered if he would be able to satisfy a sophisticated, worldly woman like Rita. He was loathe to charge ahead as subtle as a bayonet charge in case he got it wrong.

So they walked, strolled with no apparent urgency.

Rita halted.

Tom, she murmured. I ¦ I’m so nervous. I can’t believe you really want to do it. With me, I mean.

Rita’s face was pale under the yellow sodium lights as Tom leaned in for another kiss. She tasted of tobacco and lime juice when her mouth opened and her tongue pushed between his lips. His cock pulsed, already stiff while his hands came up to Rita’s waist. The kiss lengthened, became something more than their earlier kisses.

Rita’s sighs mingled with a long, low, feral groan from Tom, lust flaring between Rita’s legs, a molten flow of desire while exhilaration burst in Tom’s chest.

You do want to do it with me as much as I want to with you, Rita growled after breaking contact. She leaned back, inclining at the waist to better see Tom’s face. Kiss me again, Tom, and then take me home. I’m so ready for you.

They ignored Megan when they all but fell through the front door. Their mouths were locked together, tongues twirling in serpentine dance of unbridled lust when the door banged open. Tom held Rita upright, his hands at her waist as he bundled her inside and kicked the front door shut, his cock bulging with desire while Rita gasped and moaned.

Rita’s fingers scrabbled at his belt with urgent desperation. She wanted to see what he had to offer, longed to feel the pulse of his yearning in her fist.

Oh God, Rita mumbled when she pulled away from the kiss. I haven’t been this ready for a very long time, Tom. You want to fuck me, don’t you?

There was wonder in his expression, a look that stirred her on a primal level.

Rita moaned.

Let me see it, she muttered, unzipping him. Take off that shirt, she added, voice cracking with her need. Oh God, just take off your clothes ¦ Hurry ¦ Take off your boots ¦ Get naked for me, darling.

He thought it was going to happen there on the stairs. Tom imagined an unbridled frenzy of sliding flesh, hot kisses and grappling as he fell against the wall, struggling to comply with Rita’s garbled and breathless instructions. He unlaced a boot and kicked the thing down the hall before hopping on one leg to remove the other. He sat on the stairs and yanked off his socks while Megan yapped and scampered around, excited by the frenzy of activity she had no part in.

A gasp and a low-voiced mutter came from Rita. Look at you, she murmured, eyes fixed on the jut of his tumescence. Good God, Tom. Look at that lovely cock.

Rita’s forefinger pointed towards the ceiling.

Upstairs, darling. Go upstairs while I’ll shut Megan in the kitchen. Go to my bedroom. She paused, ignoring the yip-yip-yap from the terrier, eyes shining. Rita advanced upon him while he stood there, naked. When I get up there we can make love.

Tom gasped when elegant fingers curled around his erection, his jeans at his knees.

All night, we can fuck the night away, you lovely man.

Emboldened with desire, flushed with yearning, her sex molten, Rita sucked Tom’s tongue, caressing the length of him while he moaned into her mouth.

She broke away with a gasp, sighing out as she pushed past him. I want you to do it to me so I’m sore from you in the morning.

Tom stared after Rita as she led the dog away.

Bloody hell, he mumbled. I don’t fucking believe it. This is it. This. Is. It.

He held the waist of his jeans in one hand, belt flapping and jangling as he rushed up the stairs.

**

Naked and nervous Tom lay on Rita’s bed. He was there by invitation, she wanted him there. This time he wasn’t sneaking around.

Suddenly she was there with him, standing next to the bed, him wondering what to do with his hands as she stood there, her stare mapping the contours of his body.

Oh. My. God. Look at you, my lovely Adonis.

He’d hoped Rita would strip out of her dress He yearned to see her naked, to finally appreciate Rita in undraped glory.

Uncertain and very self-conscious, Tom’s hands hovered over his penis.

She chuckled and said, Don’t hide away, darling.

A brisk walk to the window and the world was behind drawn curtains. He watched her silhouette move around the bed before low light cast a glow around the room.

After flicking on the bedside lamp, Rita sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping.

Tom waited, unsure, and in a way this rite of passage was every bit as frightening as when he’d been stomach-down in the icy peat waiting for battle. On this occasion, as before, his overriding concern was how he would perform. Would he make the grade or would he fail?

Of course the situation at that moment, with Rita sitting beside him, Tom’s life wasn’t in danger. There was no physical threat yet the same apprehension gnawed at his vitals as, poised on the cusp of carnal knowledge, just as in the hours and minutes and finally the seconds before the machine guns opened up to signal the beginning of the attack up that hill, Tom was paradoxically impatient to get on with it and terrified for it to begin.

He gasped, belly concave when Rita’s fingers splayed over the taut muscles of his stomach. Tom groaned, expecting her to grab at his root and to stroke his cock, but instead Rita slid her palm up towards his chest.

So fit, she murmured, her heavy-lidded gaze roaming over his torso. Lovely muscles, firm and sexy.

Unable to resist the need Tom clasped his hard-on in one fist, tugging at himself while he reached for Rita with the other hand.

He cupped one breast, feeling her body through layers of clothing, moaning at her to take it all off.

Fumbling at the top button of her dress with useless fingers, he mumbled, For fuck’s sake, Rita, please, please take the dress off.

Her voice came to him, soothing and composed.

Calm down, Tom. She laid a restraining hand over his wrist. Don’t wank it and come too soon. Her hand eased his from his erection. Don’t waste it.

Tom swallowed and blinked, his mouth gaping. He looked at her.

I can’t help it, he whined, almost childlike in his petulance. Look at me. Look at what you do to me.

You wanted me undressed. Just let me take this off and then we can kiss and cuddle and ¦ and we can make love.

Fuck ¦ Rita ¦ Please¦ His hand strayed towards his cock in response when Rita stood.

Leave it, she snapped. Don’t touch yourself. Just wait.

Tom obeyed as though responding to a shouted order on the battlefield or parade ground, his hand jerking away from his cock. He lay there in a parody of the position of attention: legs together, arms by his side as he boggled up to where Rita’s fingers flicked open the buttons of her dress. He mumbled an oath when Rita’s bra was exposed, sucking in a deep breath when, finally, the dress gaped open, unbuttoned along its entire length.

Are you sure you want me to take the dress off, Tom? asked Rita, her fingers grasping the drapes of the dress like a flasher in readiness. I’m not a girl any more. You might be used to tight-bodied young things, and an old lady like me might put you off.

You’re just so lovely, Rita, Tom murmured. His cock throbbed, pulsed with desire for her.

And still, to Tom’s frustration, with tantalising glimpses of bare thighs above the surprise of stockings, with flashes of smooth flesh also swelling from her bra, Rita refused to pull off that fucking dress.

How many times did he have to tell her he found her so desirable, so beautiful? What would it take to get her undressed and into bed?

She hesitated, insecurity showing in her expression. If the women in your past have all been your age ¦ Well, you know, I just hope I’m not a disappointment.

You couldn’t be a disappointment, Rita. I told you, I think you’re absolutely gorgeous. You’re so sexy. I can’t tell you how I feel when I look at you. I want to kiss you and touch you, and ¦ and… Oh, the things he wanted to do to her, with her¦

I don’t care how old you are. You’re just so beautiful and fucking sexy. I want you to take off your dress and come here so we can do it. I’m so fucking randy ¦ I want to fuck you, Rita.

And then the confession blurted out of him, the words spilling from Tom before he had time to realise just what he was saying. There haven’t been any women. No girls my own age. I’ve never done it before. You’re my first.

Rita’s hands fell to her sides, her body slumping with surprise while her mouth gaped. A virgin? You? Oh God, I don’t believe it.

Four

She listened with growing incredulity while he told her.

Rita sat on the bed while he explained about how joining the army had been about proving himself to his father, about how joining the paras had been about proving something to himself. He knew his father had doubted he would survive the rigours of basic training, and so Tom had persevered. The jumps course, parachute training, had been easy in comparison, and six months after he’d stepped off the train at Aldershot, his hair curling at his collar, Tom wore the maroon beret and cap badge of his regiment with pride. He was also proud of the wings on his right shoulder, a symbol of what he had done.

Being sent to the South Atlantic so soon after joining the battalion had been fate. That jaunt had been an accident, a fluke of timing, pure and simple. But the result was he’d been propelled towards the teeth of a machine that could easily have ground him up with virginity still intact.

Tom told her that being shunted around different schools “ the result of his father’s military career “ had left him shy and introverted, awkward around girls. He always seemed to say the wrong thing, had no natural rapport with the opposite sex, and that their off-hand rejection had left him painfully shy, his mother’s death only exacerbating the problem.

In the end he merely shrugged and said, I dunno, Rita, I’m just not that great around girls.

Another lengthy pause while Rita boggled, her mouth working with no words forthcoming.

Oh, Tom, she sighed, eventually. Her eyes glistened. Oh, darling Tom; I’m going to be your first?

Tom sucked in a breath when the dress fell from Rita’s shoulders. Bloody hell, he muttered while, a Mona Lisa smile on her face, Rita posed for a moment.

There, she smirked a second before she pulled the bra away from her breasts. Is this what you wanted to see?

Tom swallowed and nodded, his tongue sliding over dry lips.

What about¦? Rita grinned, thumbs hooked into the waistband of her underwear.

She revelled at the deep longing in Tom’s long, drawn-out groan. A flick of her foot sent her knickers across the room.

I shave it, she said by way of explanation while Tom gaped at her smooth pudendum. My former husband preferred me this way. Rita’s grin broadened and she winked. I’ve grown to like it as well. And I must admit I’ve had some comments from the few men who came after my divorce. The reaction has been a bit like yours now, Tom. Surprised and speechless. Rita chuckled. You didn’t expect that from old Rita, eh?

Rita settled onto the bed, on her knees next to him. She leaned in to kiss his mouth.

A virgin, she murmured. I’ll make it special for you, my lovely man.

They kissed again, and Tom gasped when her fingers curled around his girth.

The idea came to her fully formed; she knew what she could do for him. But there was the potential problem of Tom peaking too soon.

Still, that was easily remedied.

Rita laid the length of her body alongside his and rested on one elbow, the other hand manipulating Tom’s hard-on with slow strokes. Her expression turned dreamy, wistful while she thought through her idea.

What a thrill to watch his face while she told him.

I think I’d like to dress up for you, darling boy. Before we fuck, I think I’ll dress up for you. Would you like that, Tom? Shall I make this a very special night for you? Make it a real night to remember?

Tom didn’t give a rat’s arse at that point. His mind was filled with Rita’s body moulded to his. He could feel her hand “ a woman’s hand, not his own for once “ working up and down his length. He could smell her, hear her, feel the heat coming off her, and all he wanted to do was to roll her onto her back, spread her legs and plunge balls deep.

Working on instinct Tom growled and heaved onto his side. He then hauled himself upright and, at the same time, rolling Rita onto her back, moved over her to hold his torso over hers, his arms straight with his hips between her thighs.

I just want to do it, Rita. I want to fuck. Please, let’s just do it. Now, let’s do it now!

Rita looked up at him, into the expectant face. She saw the urgency there, witnessed the feral longing in his expression.

Covering her opening with a hand, blocking him from simply lunging, Rita murmured, It’ll be ruined if you did that, darling. You’d come without really experiencing the intimacy. I wanted to make it special for you.

With Tom distracted, in a deft movement that caught him unawares, Rita somehow contrived to wriggle from beneath him.

The next thing Tom knew Rita was standing beside the bed, hands on her hips.

I thought we could enjoy the beauty of your first time together, Tom, with both of us taking the time to really love each other. It would be wonderful to watch your face when you slide into me. I’d love to see your expression when you feel me close around you. We could kiss and talk and all the time you’d be inside me.

And when you come, Tom ¦ Oh, when you come¦

Just think about it, my lovely man, just think about the two of us doing it for as long as you could hold back. You could move to the precipice and then settle again. If you could hold yourself in check you could prolong that exquisite agony.

Oh, and it is such an exquisite sensation, sweetheart. I promise you.

Her words lulled him, the narcotic murmuring triggering images of soft intimacies in his mind.

We can do it, Tom. We can make love for ages. And when you come you can just let it go. Flood me with your seed.

Goosebumps rose at the thought of Rita brimming with his semen. B-but ¦ But what about you getting pregnant?

Rita’s eyes rolled. You don’t have to worry about that. Forget it. Just think about what I said. She shrugged and, suddenly curt, added, We can do it your way, if you prefer. Rita pointed to the bed. I can get back on there and open my legs. You could climb aboard and just stick it in. Two pumps and a squirt and it’d be over. But it’s up to you.

She did think he was going to give in to base desires when he sighed, rolled onto his back and said, I want to do it now, Rita. I’m so fucking horny for you. But then, while he blinked at the ceiling, Tom added, But ¦ What you said ¦ What you said about making love and taking our time and how good it would be. The bed bounced when Tom moved again, this time onto his, head resting on one fist, elbow jammed against the bed he gazed at her. It sounds so good that way, like it really would be worth waiting.

Rita glanced at the face of her watch, eager to begin. It’s just gone ten, Tom. She locked eyes with him, no longer the boy she’d known, he was now the man who would become her lover. By midnight, darling, you’ll no longer be a virgin. By then you’ll know what it is to love a woman. And I mean love her properly, Tom.

With growing excitement, she continued: I’ll dress up for you “ and I’d enjoy doing it. Doing that makes me feel girly and sexy at the same time. She paused for a beat or two. And I feel more confident in a nice corset.

Rita rolled her eyes and hurried on, cutting off any retort. I know you keep telling me I’m lovely, but a girl gets to an age and she’s just so self-conscious ¦ Anyway, I’m sure you won’t complain, Tom. We can kiss and I’ll suck you. You can lick me ¦ down there, she pointed, and I’ll show you how I like to be licked and how you can use your fingers. Let’s see if you can give me a fabulous orgasm before we actually do it.

And when you can’t keep your hands off me any longer, darling ¦ When you feel like you’ll explode if you don’t have me, then we can fuck.

She clambered back onto the bed and shoved a hand beneath a pillow. You just sit there and watch. Don’t you dare touch your penis until I say you can.

Rita was on fire between her legs at the thought of what she was about to do. She couldn’t dwell on it though, couldn’t allow herself to think about it or she would be sure to balk. Her hand slid under her pillow, fingers finding it.

She paused.

Swallowing heavily Rita glanced at him lying there, so innocent despite his recent experiences. She felt her heart beating solidly while she steeled her resolve. It would be a first for her, this exhibitionism, this flaunting she was about to undertake. The corsets and stockings were nothing unusual, not to her, Rita regarded the lingerie as part of being feminine, dressing up for them turned men into beasts, slavering and ravenous for her.

And she liked that, enjoyed it immensely.

But she’d never used a dildo on herself while a man watched before.

**

So there had been something after all. Rita did have a dirty little secret tucked away. Not hidden in the wardrobe, not snuggled inside the nest of drawers next to the bed, but there, right under her pillow.

He gaped at it in her fist, continued to stare, to boggle, eyes wide and his jaw slack as Rita settled down with her feet towards the headboard, her weight propped on one side, resting on her elbow, thighs parting.

The dildo slid through her sex, splitting the tacky labia and making Rita gasp. She grunted and winced, the fingers of her free hand clawing at one breast while she fixed him with such an intense and heavy-lidded look of unadulterated lust a moan burst out of Tom’s chest.

His hand went to his cock. Fuck ¦ Oh fuck, Rita.

The movement brought forth a snarl from Rita. Don’t you dare touch your cock, Tom! The length of rubbed waved in her hand as she threatened him with it. Be patient. Watch me do this. I’ve never done it in front of a man before.

Her language matched her mood when, overwhelmed with lust and a newly-discovered desire to shock, Rita tapped into a deep well of profanity.

Watch me fuck myself with this. You stay there and keep your hands off your dick while I fuck my cunt with this thing. When I tell you to “ when I’m close to coming “ I want you to wank as well. I want you to watch me and then pull your cock, Tom. You can come all over me, if you want, I don’t fucking care. Just watch me with this and then, when I say, you tug and tug and come for me.

Tom sat there, his back propped against a pillow which was wedged tight against the headboard while Rita spread her legs even wider. And then, in front of him, she did exactly as she said she would.

Wearing a garter belt, stockings, and even her shoes, Rita splayed the lips of her sex with her fingertips and rubbed the rubber cock around her squelching opening.

**

She tormented Tom for a full fifteen minutes.

And didn’t she just love every wicked second of it?

At first there came the moaning and gasping and the rolling her eyes while she slid the length of the dildo between the folds of her labia.

Oh yes, she mumbled, wincing at the sheer pleasure of her self-indulgence. Yes, that’s so good.

And it was good, so fucking gorgeous. What a thrill to expose her core to Tom’s stare, to watch his face while she masturbated. It was something Rita did often, used the malleable latex in lieu of the real thing. The dildo offered a release of sorts, allowing her to indulge in whatever fantasy came to mind without the complication of a man being involved. Rita’s indulgence meant she could picture romance if she pleased. She could take herself through a journey of soft seduction, lingering kisses and meaningful looks while masturbating gently, her head filled with a handsome lover, a kind man attentive to her needs. As an alternative however “ if the mood struck “ she could just as easily imagine sordid scenes of unbridled fucking, letting her mind go, freeing her imagination to run unfettered through the darker side of her sexual proclivities.

Romance, she decided, could wait. There would be time for that later, plenty of time, at that moment she was just in the mood to make it dirty.

Tom would love it. She’d make his eyes pop out of his head.

Didn’t that feel good bumping over her clit?

Watch me do it, you dirty boy.

Would he hold out and manage to keep his hands off his cock?

She goaded him. Oh fuck. This is what I love doing, Tom. I love to fuck myself like this. I’ve done this and thought of you. And now, here you are, and I’m so fucking wet to see you watching me do this.

In truth she’d been wet since their first kiss; her insides had melted with anticipation long ago. By the time she let her legs fall open and paused with the blunt knob-end at her opening, savouring the look on Tom’s face, in the second before the dildo slid into her body, Rita’s body sluiced even more with her desire.

Yes. Oh yes ¦ So good¦

She felt the bed heave and saw Tom rolling away, him rising to stand alongside the bed to where he stared down at her. Let him watch, she thought, her eyes closing as she used the full length of that thing, plunging it deep and stirring it around, her fist tight around its girth. Rita could hear her own gasps and grunts, primal utterances that only aggravated her yearning for her climax.

And then she paused, opening her eyes again while breath rasped in her throat, half the length of the dildo absorbed by her body while she confronted Tom’s gaze.

Oh God, the heat of the boy’s stare¦

He held her eyes for a few seconds, or he held them for an eternity, later on Rita wouldn’t be able to decide which. All she could manage then was a moan, her jaw hanging slack before she plunged the dildo deep and uttered a long, low, curdling groan, her eyes closing, teeth bared in agony at such pleasure.

Fucking hell, she heard him mumble. Fucking, fucking hell¦

For several savage strokes she used the dildo on her body. In and out it went, stretching her and filling her while Rita abandoned all her previous self-consciousness and let herself be caught up in the bliss of her exhibitionism. What a joy it was, flaunting herself, showing Tom everything and watching his reaction.

She was getting close, moving rapidly towards a juddering, teeth-clenching climax.

God, she wanted to get there.

But not yet, not just yet.

Rita eased the dildo from her body and, gasping for effect just to see Tom’s reaction, she slid the shaft of that thing between her labia several times, uttering a dark chuckle at the slippery noise the movement elicited between rubber and flesh. She forced her thighs wide, thrilled by Tom’s groan, the desperate sound giving her a quick pang of guilt at her cruelty towards him.

Have I shocked you, Tom? I bet you never imagined anything like this.

His head shook side-to-side, his mouth open. Uh ¦ No. I’ve thought about you, but not like this. He lifted a hand and waved vaguely before it flopped back to the bed. This is better than anything I could’ve dreamed up, Rita.

We can do this together, Tom. Now we’ve decided to let ourselves go, we can be close like this for as long as you’re here.

A low and dangerous growl rumbled out of Tom and he lowered his knees onto the bed. I can’t hold on any more, Rita.

The heat of Tom’s stare, the words coming out of him in a breathy rush of urgency and the sight of his thick cock in his fist brought forth a groan from Rita.

Do it if you need to, darling. Let’s wank together. Let’s get there and then I’ll dress for you. That’s when we can make love, Tom.

Yes, Tom grunted.

She watched his fist move over his shaft.

Then he was leaning over her, cock in one hand the other slid under her head. I want to do everything with you.

She plunged the dildo into her body with urgent stabs and let herself be kissed. She sucked at Tom’s tongue and plundered her cunt and succumbed to the orgasm ballooning inside her.

**

For Tom those minutes were a struggle from the very beginning. Keeping his hands off his dick was a monumental task. How could she expect him not to react when she behaved in such a provocative way? Even as shocked as he was, staring at her, barely able to reconcile this woman with the Rita he knew, with lust surging through him as her familiar face twisted into a mask of desire, his own yearning for her flaring hotter when she regarded him from heavy-lidded eyes and she said, Watch me do it, you dirty boy, the urge to stroke his erection burned deep.

He swallowed heavily, somehow “ for the time being at least “ stopping himself from touching the pulsing jib of his hard-on. Tom stared at her while Rita moaned, her back arching, lips pursing when the blunt knob-end of the dildo bumped over her clitoris.

He contained his desires when she swore, Rita’s eyes flashing fire while she kept her eyes locked on his, goading him to touch himself.

He heard her say, Oh fuck. This is what I love doing, Tom. I love to fuck myself like this. I’ve done this and thought of you. And now, here you are, and I’m so fucking wet to see you watching me do this.

He also kept it together when Rita shifted position, her hand mauling at one breast before she released that flesh and slid down the bed.

It was fascination for what Rita would do next that distracted Tom for the next few minutes, the disbelief for what he was actually witnessing holding him fast, his eyes wide and fixed on the sight of Rita’s legs falling apart, boneless, before she introduced the tip of the dildo to her opening.

A curdled cry gurgled from Rita’s throat when her body accepted, with greasy ease and in one slick glide, the length of pliant rubber.

Yes, Rita mumbled. Oh yes ¦ So good¦

Tom rolled off the bed and stood alongside to gaze down in wonder at the lewd scene developing right there in front of him, and by then Rita was thrusting the dildo in and out, her chest heaving while sobs of pleasure burst out of her.

The yearning to just take hold of his hard-on and tug away at it grew almost unbearable when, during a pause, with half the faux penis hanging out of her body, slick and greasy with her desire, Rita opened her eyes and fixed Tom with another intense look of undiluted lust.

That moment, the few seconds during which Rita’s glazed eyes held Tom’s would be imprinted on his brain forever. That expression captured the spirit of unadulterated hunger for sexual fulfilment. It would remain the single most erotic experience of his life. It was all there in Rita’s eyes and the twist of her mouth. It was a moment that hung in eternity, the very essence of Rita as a sexual animal with the veneer of civilisation stripped away, her need apparent. He saw in her then a woman who was caught purely and simply in a moment of complete abandon.

They stared at one another, the universe and all therein forgotten. All that mattered was the moment. Nothing else existed.

Rita moaned again, her jaw hanging slack before she plunged the dildo deep and uttered a long, low, curdling groan. Her eyes closed and she bared her teeth.

Fucking hell, mumbled Tom. Fucking, fucking hell¦ All he could do was watch in mesmerised fascination while Rita fucked the dildo into her body. At times her head lolled while Rita grimaced and mauled her breasts, other times she gasped and moaned, face slack, wall-eyed with the sheer pleasure of it. Rita’s hips moved with convulsive jerks, the action instinctive as her fist drilled the length of the rubber cock into her body.

With the bed moving under the force of Rita’s bucking hips she thrust in and out for several long, slow strokes. She was showing him everything, allowing him to witness a deeply personal moment, and Tom was moved that Rita would share this with him.

The moment came when Rita, eyes twinkling with devilment, eased the dildo from her body, gasping as she slid the shaft between her labia several times. He heard her dark chuckle at the slippery noise the movement elicited, saw her force her thighs wide.

Have I shocked you, Tom? purred Rita. I bet you never imagined anything like this.

And wasn’t that an understatement?

Tom shook his head, mouth open. Uh ¦ No, he admitted. I couldn’t picture this, Rita. I’ve thought about you, but not like this. He lifted a weak hand and gestured with a vague wave before the hand dropped to the bed. This is better than anything I could’ve dreamed up.

We can do this together, Tom. Now we’ve decided to let ourselves go, we can be close like this for as long as you’re here.

That promise from Rita tipped him over the edge. He’d waited long enough “ and how much did she think he could stand? How could Rita expect him to simply lay there and watch while she did that to herself?

A low and dangerous growl rumbled out of Tom and he knelt on the bed. I can’t hold on any more, Rita.

He fisted his cock and saw her throat work, the thrill of Rita’s next words flashing fire inside him.

Do it if you need to, darling, she mumbled. Rita held herself open and slid the dildo inside again. Let’s wank together. Let’s get there and then I’ll dress for you. That’s when we can make love, Tom.

Yes, Tom grunted. His fist moved over his shaft while he leaned over Rita and pushed his other hand under her head. I want to do everything with you.

Rita plunged the dildo into her body with urgent stabs while Tom kissed her. He could feel her urgency in the way she sucked desperately at his tongue; he could sense she was close to orgasm.

Let me see you, Rita gasped, pushing at Tom’s chest. Watch me while I use this big fucker, she mewled. I want to watch you at the same time. Oh, this is so bloody sexy, Tom. I’m so glad we’re here, together, doing this.

During the lewd display, Rita sighed and grunted and mewled, her cunt farting and squelching, stretched tight around the girth of that dildo while Tom worked at his length, his eyes bulging.

Oh! Rita yelped as she rolled onto her side, a hand mauling tit flesh, fingers scissored around a thick and elongated nipple. Uh, she grunted, the dildo held deep while her hips jerked. Do it, Tom, Rita mumbled, head lolling, eyes heavy-lidded. She gaped up at him kneeling beside her, her expression slack and vacant with that glazed-eyed stupidity, the precursor to a climax. I’m ¦ Oh, I’m¦

Tom cranked at his dick and watched Rita come, the sight holding him captivated. Mesmerised by Rita’s cerise core stretched around rubber, her body convulsing while she muttered and swore and grunted and squealed, Tom yanked at himself and reached out to squeeze Rita’s breasts one after the other.

Do it, Tom, Rita wailed, her body trembling, hips jerking, the dildo still jammed inside. Please. Wank and come. Show me how much I turn you on.

Tom’s fist worked in a blur as he shuffled forward on his knees. Rita, he grunted in warning, and then gasped when the woman herself, with the dildo hanging out of her like an obscene tongue, levered herself around and reached for his dick.

Then she covered the dome of it with her lips and Tom’s fingers pushed through blonde hair, twisting a handful while he growled down into the impossibly erotic image of Rita’s eyes gazing up at him, her face distorted, cheek bulging with cock-head as she grinned as best she could manage around the mouthful of male gristle.

The surge began, feeling like it came from beyond his toes the pleasure was so intense.

Rita took the first squirt in her mouth but then allowed Tom’s dick, still spitting its load, to plop from between her lips.

That nearly took my head off, she gasped. Jesus, Tom¦ Rita coughed and spluttered while, showing the presence of mind of an experienced woman, she used her hand to pump more gouts of viscous goo from Tom’s penis.

Come for me, darling, Rita continued, rapt. She grinned up at Tom, massaging the length of him as she aimed the eye of that cock at her outthrust chest. Get it all out, sweetheart, she crooned.

Finally, when the deluge abated to a dribble, Rita said, We can start again soon, darling. Let Rita squeeze the last drop out of you, Tom. Then we can get ready to make love like you deserve.

During his orgasm, while looking down at Rita with some disbelief, watching his semen splash across the woman’s chest, Tom had groaned and gasped and muttered obscenities through gritted teeth. Now, with his climax cooling, he stroked Rita’s hair while emotions he couldn’t begin to articulate swelled in his throat.

Rita ¦ That was incredible. Fucking fantastic. Your face when you sucked me ¦ Shit ¦ Fuck ¦ Rita, I don’t know what to say.

Rita winked and leaned in to pop the knob-head between her lips. Tom groaned, head rolling loose on his neck when he felt her tongue snaking at the keel of his cock, the tip flicking around the frenulum, teasing him.

Apparently deciding enough was enough Rita fell back, her lips smacking before she wiped her mouth with the back of a hand and, sliding the dildo out of her, she rose to her knees.

That’s just the beginning, Tom, Rita purred. She faced him and, with semen sliding between her breasts, pressed the front of her body against his chest. Now we can really enjoy ourselves. She offered her mouth for a kiss, and Tom, enflamed with ardour, ignoring his own jizm, obliged with the enthusiasm of flaming desire.

The kiss lengthened, with both Rita and Tom experiencing a renewed flare of passion. His hands were all over Rita’s body, squeezing her buttocks, sliding up her back and even smearing gloop into her breasts.

You’re so fucking sexy, Tom panted between short, sharp smacks of his lips against Rita’s. I love your body. Your skin ¦ Fuck, Rita, I love feeling your arse and boobs.

Breaking away, pushing gently at Tom’s chest, Rita replied: And I love your hard dick, sweetie, but we mustn’t get carried away again. She ducked and clambered from the bed as Tom grabbed at her, reluctant to let her go.

Sliding out of Tom’s encircling arms, like a greased-up wrestler, Rita said, Go and wash your cock and then take yourself downstairs. Drink a beer. I want to tidy up. She grimaced and gestured at the goo spattered across her front. You made such a mess. Rita giggled and added, I’ll call you when I’m ready for you. Away now, Tom. Her hands fluttered. Shoo. Let me get cleaned up.

But, Rita¦ whined Tom.

I said go! She pointed to the door. Now.

With great reluctance Tom turned and walked away. He scooped his jeans from the carpet and, with a petulant backwards glance, left her alone.

Five

The dog regarded him with liquid brown eyes and a disconsolate expression before, with surprisingly haughty disdain, the animal turned her sharp muzzle away from him.

Tom laughed and apologised for Megan’s banishment to the kitchen, the animal’s attitude coming as a distraction, relief from recent events that looped through his mind over and over.

I really am sorry, Meg, but there’s no way you’re getting in the way tonight. I know you sleep on her bed, Tome pointed to the ceiling, Rita’s bedroom above. But not tonight.

He walked to the fridge and reached in for a can of lager. He popped the tab and swigged before, with a twinge of guilt at having usurped Megan in Rita’s affections, he lifted two pieces of ham from a plate and plopped them into the dog’s food bowl.

Then, sitting at the kitchen table, he stared at nothing, swigging from the can from time-to-time while his mind conjured myriad scenarios of what he was about to encounter.

Again, just as on the eve of battle, he wondered at what he would face in the minutes and hours ahead of him. There was that edgy nervousness in the pit of his stomach, elephants tap-dancing as he sat there and the minutes to H-hour ticked past.

One beer led to two.

His stomach squeezed and griped. What was taking her so long?

Tom decided to abstain from a third beer. He’d had enough and wanted to be clear-headed, or at least not slurred and bumbling when Rita “ eventually “ summoned him to her boudoir.

Forty-five minutes later he was still waiting.

Tom paced and muttered, contemplating taking some direct action but was reluctant to take the first step out of the kitchen. He was afraid.

Fucking hell, Meg The dog’s head lifted from her paws at the sound of his voice. What’s she doing? I’m shitting bricks here.

The animal’s head canted to one side before she decided there was no canine interest in Tom’s problem. She rested her long face on her paws once more and chuffed a sigh of disinterest whileTom continued to pace.

Come on, Rita. Come on. For fuck’s sake ¦ come on!

Her call came a full hour and five minutes after Tom had been summarily dismissed from Rita’s bedroom.

She was at the top of the stairs, hair perfect, subtle make-up applied, although the lipstick was anything but understated, the same wicked shade of red as before. The pendant had been replaced by a velvet collar, black like her stockings and corset. The shoes were red of course, but these heels were far more lethal than Rita’s choice of footwear for public consumption, dangerous spikes that complimented the equally dangerous glint in her eyes.

It was an ensemble for seduction.

Hello, darling, breathed Rita as she smirked down at her victim. Will I do?

Gape-mouthed and boggling, his cock stiff and straining at his jeans, Tom moved to a point three treads below the vision, halting to soak up every detail.

He gawped at her smooth, plump mons. Jesus. Oh, Rita, you’re so sexy.

Rita shifted and cocked one hip, posing for full effect. I drew you a bath. Why don’t you pop in and have a wash. I want you all clean and fresh. If I’m going to suck that big lovely dick of yours it has to be nice and clean.

Overcome with desire Tom lurched up the remaining stairs, arms outstretched, fingers grasping.

Rita danced away with surprising agility in those heels, laughing when Tom stumbled on the top step.

Framed by her bedroom door she admonished Tom with a waggle of a forefinger and a pout. No, no. Go and clean up. The finger levelled to the horizontal and directed Tom towards the bathroom. I want you fresh, darling.

He stripped out of his jeans in an agony of frustrated impatience. She was killing him. Every time he thought he was about to get to grips with her she managed to prolong the torture.

He eased into the shallow depth of the bathwater and began to wash, chuntering all the while.

You want clean and fresh¦ He splashed water, lathering and rinsing. ¦You’ll get clean and fucking fresh.

Tom bathed and, in a fit of pique “ let her wait now “ brushed his teeth. Cutting his nose off to spite his face, prolonging the time it took to complete his toilette, he even shaved, albeit a haphazard and rushed affair of a quick squirt of foam and several brisk strokes with his razor.

You took your time. I was about to fuck myself with my friend again. Rita waved the rubber cock and then twisted to reveal a rounded rump, opening a bedside drawer to dump the redundant lump of rubber inside. She turned back to face him, sitting upright as she said, Now, come here, darling. Her eyebrows arched as she regarded Tom’s erection. Let me get hold of you.

**

Before Tom could react, Rita left the bed and stepped across the room. He blinked at her approach, licking his lips in a nervous gesture, barely registering the elegance of her walk despite the precipitous heels.

Then she was there, her arms draped around his neck, her voice low and heavy.

Hello, darling, here we are, at last. Rita glanced down at the arrogant jut of Tom’s erection, eyes sparkling when her look returned to his face. And aren’t you just ready for me. Big and stiff.

Her body felt soft and pliant beneath the coarser texture of the corset, her waist packed tight within when Tom’s palms slid all over her torso. His fingers closed around her as they drew closer together, her face uptilted to meet his kiss.

Their tongues danced, slipping and slithering, ardour igniting, heat flaring inside Tom when Rita’s fingers grasped his root.

She squeezed, holding tight with a forehand grip, slowly stroking, forcing a sigh from him.

The kiss broke and, holding onto Tom’s cock, she turned and led him deeper into her boudoir.

Would you like to lick me? I’m all smooth and sweet down there. I could teach you how to get me there with your tongue. Go on, Tom, say yes. Rita traced his unresponsive lips with her tongue. Lick my cunt, darling.

Regardless of the coarse vulgarity of his comrades’ conversations, discourse peppered liberally with obscenities being the norm, that word from Rita, the eloquence of her diction at odds with the C-word and the casual manner in which she dropped into her vocabulary, shocked him. But her use of the profanity, incongruous compared to her usual persona of stylish elegance sent a surge of illicit excitement through Tom.

Would he like to lick her? Too fucking right he would!

Tom rumbled a low growl and, as Rita reached the bed, he made a grab for her arm. His touch halted her and she released his cock.

Oh, you bad boy! Rita shrilled when, with the tantalising globes of her buttocks proving too much to resist, Tom squatted and clasped her hips.

He nuzzled the peach of Rita’s derrière, nibbling the flesh.

Rita chuckled.

Biting my bum! You naughty thing. Here, she continued with a purr, kneeling on the bed, presenting her rump. Lick my cunt from back there. She thrust her hips high while lowering her face and shoulders to the bedcover. Get right in there, Tom. Lick me there, darling.

Knowing full well what kind of picture her lewd exposure presented, totally mindful that Tom’s position behind her would allow him to see all her most intimate places, Rita instructed him to splay the cheeks of her buttocks.

Spread me open, my lover. Look at me. Look at all of me, darling. Her face burned when, not believing her own words, she added, Can you see all of me, Tom? I want you to lick me there. Rita’s hand moved between her legs, the red-tipped fingers decorated with the rings she habitually wore splitting meaty labia. See how wet I am inside, Tom? That’s me all aroused because you’re going to lick me there. And I’d adore it if you licked my tight arsehole and then sucked my clit.

It occurred to Tom, as the lewd litany cascaded over him, profanity in a sewer torrent pouring from Rita, that he could easily step forward and plunge his length into the pink and molten core of her body.

Can I just fuck you? he rasped, voice dry and coarse. Please, Rita. Can I put it in?

In a flurry of legs, stockings hissing as she moved, a heel of one shoe scything close and almost emasculating Tom, Rita yelped and rolled onto her side. She completed the turn and looked up at him, her eyes slits, a hand held protectively over her pudendum in an odd parody of modest chastity.

She chastised him through clenched teeth. Not yet. No fucking until you’ve made me come with your tongue and fingers. Rita’s hand came away to expose her mound as she scooted her buttocks along the bed, careful not to rip the bedding with her heels.

She settled against a pillow, shoulders and back propped at an angle which afforded her a view along her torso. Rita folded her legs at the knees before allowing her thighs to fall apart, the lewd, casual exposure causing her labia to separate with tacky reluctance.

Get onto the bed. Lie down on your front and get your face against my cunt. She winced and gasped and slid a forefinger over the slippery prepuce protecting her clitoris. Right here first. Rita chewed at her bottom lip and, throwing a heavy-lidded look of desire at Tom, peeled back the little hood to uncover the pink nub. Lick me right on the button, Tom. That’ll do to start. I’ll guide you from there.

Rita’s sex pouted at Tom when he complied with Rita’s gurgled instructions, and it was with some awe that he stared at the confusing folds of flesh confronting him. He was stunned at the incongruity, the ugly beauty of those folds.

This was it, his first taste.

He dabbed an uncertain tongue at that little button.

The words leapt from Rita when, as though jolted by electricity, her body tensed and bucked. Yes! There! Jesus, yes, right there! Lap at it like a dog licking water from a bowl. Lick it, Tom. Rita’s voice rose in pitch, her instructions urgent. Lick it, you bastard. Lick it. Faster. Her fingers clamped against Tom’s ears. Now, inside me, baby. Wriggle your tongue in there. Rita blurted an ecstatic laugh, a burst of rapture, her body writhing. Squirm away inside me, darling ¦ Now my clit, get back to my clitty ¦ Suck it between your lips ¦ Between your teeth, Tom ¦ Gently ¦ Yes, that’s it. Now lick it¦

Rita groaned the shrieked in delight and yanked Tom’s face against her body.

That’s it, baby! she yelped. Now you’re getting the hang of it. Lick it and suck it ¦ Do it to me, Tom.

Shocked by Rita’s vehemence Tom grunted at the fire from his ears. Owmph, he managed in response to the burning either side of his head, the mad bitch had almost ripped his lugs off. He hadn’t anticipated such aggression. Where was the tender love-making? Rita was a wild animal “ And the language coming out of her¦

Then there was no time to think as Rita, hauling him along her body while she buckled at the waist, wedged her tongue into Tom’s mouth.

He dismissed the pain of his tortured ears, a mere dull ache remaining when Rita broke the kiss and, her eyes flaming with yearning, she pushed him back down between her legs, a snarl coming out of her.

More. Lick me and use a finger this time. Push a finger inside me¦ Rita gasped and her back arched when Tom complied, breath bursting out of her before she groaned and mewled: Curl it around. Another one, for fuck’s sake, use another finger inside me. Curl them around, Tom. Rub at me, right on that place. Rub me hard.

Tom fumbled about, his mouth pressed against the woman’s slick flesh while she squirmed and writhed and he struggled to keep his fingers inside her.

Feel for it, Rita squealed, her fingers clamping around Tom’s wrist. Feel inside me ¦ Oh, fuck, that’s it. Right there. Can you feel that? That’s where I need you to rub me, Tom. Hard, darling, really hard. Don’t stop sucking my clit. Lick me ¦ Finger my cunt. Lick me.

And so it went on for a few minutes longer, Rita gurgling and jabbering while Tom struggled to keep up.

He rubbed and licked and sucked, altering the tempo and depth and ferocity of his oral and digital assault according to the woman’s commands.

In truth, Tom’s first experience at oral sex left him dazed and confused; he got Rita there, took her to a jarring and voluble climax, an experience that left him gasping with wonder and shortness of breath “ not to mention bruised ears “ at the awe-inspiring event that was Rita’s orgasm. He would, in the days that followed, with further coaching from Rita, grow more proficient. He would grow to love giving the lady pleasure with his tongue and fingers, but that first time was more a rapid and blurred series of impressions, an experience that made little sense.

Oh my God, I’m there, Rita finally grunted. I’m coming, Tom. Keep going, darling. Just a bit more, sweetheart, she panted.

Just a little¦

Oh, fuck¦

Yes¦

Lick me¦

Yes, right¦

Oh!

Oh fuck!

Oh fuck-fuck-fuck¦

I’m there!

Tom. I’m. Fucking. There–

**

She laid there, a prize in lingerie, limbs sprawled, breasts swelling over the cups of the corset, the flesh shivering while she sucked in deep draughts of air. Her hair was already mussed and the lipstick was gone, chewed from her lips in the throes of her ecstasy or kissed away by Tom.

Rita’s glitter-eyes stare confronted him while she fought for breath. Oh my God, Tom. Darling, you do that so well. What a bright pupil you are. If they gave medals for that you’d have won one you lovely thing.

Rita made no mention of the fact that she’d assumed Tom would be an able student between her legs, after all, his mother had been adept at oral sex.

But Rita didn’t think it appropriate to mention the shared skill just then, if ever.

She patted a place next to her on the bed. Come up here, darling. Come on. Come here kiss me. It’s time.

Tom uncurled from the foot of the bed, the position he’d ended up in as he’d stared in awe at Rita in the throes of her climax. He stretched out alongside her, his eyes fixed on her breasts as she scooped them from the corset.

Rita, Tom muttered. How could you think I wouldn’t like your body? You’re beautiful.

As she lifted herself upright and rested on one straight arm, Rita beamed an appreciative smile.

You make me feel beautiful, Tom. She leaned low for a kiss. The look in your eyes, my lovely boy ¦ When you were watching me ¦ I’m going to cherish this night.

Tom found his hands full of Rita’s buttocks, his palms sliding from those pliant globes along the rough texture of her corset when Rita threw a leg over him and settled her weight gently atop his body.

From her superior position she murmured, Kiss me, darling, her body moving sinuously, Tom’s cock caught between her thighs as she rested on her elbows and gazed into his face.

The moment stretched, more time that Tom would store away in the bank of mental images and impressions from that evening. In years to come during the hard routine and difficult conditions of some of his working life he would recall each detail, relishing the intimacy he shared with Rita in the moments before she welcomed him into her body.

His tongue slid over Rita’s tongue, his senses overwhelmed by the textures and tastes, the sounds and scent of a woman aroused.

He grabbed at Rita’s buttocks, his hips moving with those spasmodic and uncontrollable jerks while he marvelled at the feel of her slight frame under his fingers. It seemed to him that he was a huge and cumbersome lump in comparison.

Their kisses grew hotter, a frenzied joining of lips and tongues and occasional clashes of teeth, their noses getting in the way while Rita squirmed and wriggled, gasps and moans coming out of her in bursts.

Then Rita lifted her torso from Tom’s to hold herself over him on straight arms. Are you ready? Do you want to do it?

Tom knew he was there, knew that at the slightest signal Rita would act, and with the absolute knowledge that all he had to do was nod or mutter assent Tom perversely, and deliberately, paused.

He looked up into Rita’s face, eyes locked with hers as he grinned and reached for her breasts. In a minute. Tom kept his stare “ a challenge of wills “ on Rita’s, his tongue circling the dark coin of the areola surrounding one nipple. Tom lip-smacked both of those nipples in turn, sucking the teats between his lips to draw a low groan and a wince from Rita hovering over him.

You take your time, Rita said, her voice low and dark and husky. I want this to be perfect for you. She grinned, head tilted to one side as she sucked in the detail of him. I can’t believe you’re a virgin.

Then she lifted her hips and reached between their bodies.

Tom gasped when he felt Rita grasp the shaft of his cock.

I’m going to be your first, darling, Rita added, smearing the slippery cock-head around her own greasy sex. You’ll remember me, eh, Tom? I’m going to be your first fuck.

And with that, with Tom staring at her, his throat working, Rita eased the dome against her opening and lowered her hips.

Jesus! Tom cried. Oh ¦ Rita ¦ Is that you?

That’s me, darling. All that you can feel¦ Rita smirked when, ceasing all external movement, she watched her lover’s face, chuckling at his expression when she clenched her body around his girth. You like that, huh?

Rita winked and then her breasts flattened against Tom’s chest as she settled on top of him and kissed his mouth. Can you feel that, Tom? She lifted herself upright on straight arms again, staring right at the astonished face below hers.

Awed by the sensation, by the molten heat that engulfed the length of him, Tom gulped while Rita allowed him to settle, giving Tom time to appreciate all that was happening to him.

It ¦ It’s incredible, he breathed.

Rita smiled, her breasts swaying when her hips began a slow, rhythmic roll. It’s about to get better.

Tom groaned, his hands instinctively going to Rita’s breasts.

Rita’s movements grew more urgent. We’re fucking, Tom. That’s it. You’ve done it. You’re there. She kissed her lover again, moaning and panting into his mouth before rising up once more, her hips never ceasing their rocking motion. You’re inside me. Fucking ¦ We’re fucking, Tom. You’re no longer a virgin, darling. Now, we’re lovers.

Tom tried to take it all in at once. He attempted to commit each sensation to memory “ the heat of Rita clamped around his cock; her face; the sound of her moaning; the murmured words of encouragement; she sight of her breasts swinging; the slap-slap-slap of her flesh on his “ but of course it was too much to absorb, sensory overload, and soon enough Tom capitulated and let it all happen.

It was enough that he was there, lying beneath Rita, a woman he’d known forever.

Who better to share that moment with than her?

The tempo of Rita’s rhythmic thrusts increased; her gasps and mewls indicating the level she’d attained on the pleasure scale. Tom’s fingers found her buttocks and he dug in, hard. He squeezed that flesh as he thrust up to meet the vigorous downstroke, forcing Rita down onto him. His grip loosened, the tips of his fingers moving deeper, exploring the softness between Rita’s thighs, fingertips sliding over the slippery flesh at their conjunction.

This is so good, Tom gurgled, feeling where his own stiff gristle and Rita’s slick opening melded together. Doing this with you, Rita ¦ I didn’t know it would be so ¦ so ¦ so fucking good.

Rita laid a series of kisses against Tom’s face and lips, her hips maintaining their rhythm, her buttocks tensing.

I knew it would be good for you, darling. I wanted it to be a memory to treasure.

Tom’s hands moved from Rita’s buttocks to her back. He embraced her with one arm, a hand gliding further until his fingers touched Rita’s hair. He held her tight, his tongue deep in her mouth while the kiss went on and on. Rita moaned and mewled, her insides tight around Tom’s cock, his fist clamped in her hair.

Then, with a grunt of effort Tom moved suddenly, rolling his weight onto one shoulder to turn Rita onto her back.

With his hard-on wedged inside Rita throughout the manoeuvre, Tom then hefted himself up into the press-up position.

I want to be in charge now, he growled.

Rita grinned up at him and squirmed her rump against the bed. Her legs folded at the knees, her torso coming off the mattress as, using elbows and forearms as support, she glanced along the front of her body and saw that long cock disappearing inside her.

Ooh, you big boy, Rita gurgled, a hand moving down so her fingers could splay the folds of her sex. Use that big thing on me. Fuck me, you gorgeous bugger. Give it all to me. Rita gasped and winced and sucked her lower lip between her teeth when Tom began to move. She moaned and fingered her clitoris, her stare heavy-lidded and glazed. Fuck me. Do it hard and fast.

Then Rita gave a long, low moan and fell back against the pillow, her hand wedged between their bodies.

Tom grunted and groaned at the sight of Rita’s stretched opening accommodating him. It was an image almost too much to believe. He saw two fingers moving over her clitoris, heard the juicy squelch when his penis slid in and out, felt the heat and wetness of her, more memories to savour.

I’m inside you. And look at you rubbing yourself like that. Oh, fuck, Rita ¦ He gulped and shook his head, his mouth opening while he continued to stare down at his own length, the shaft glistening on the outstroke. I didn’t know a woman could be so wet, he gurgled. My cock ¦ Oh, Rita, I’m covered with you.

But by then Rita had an agenda of her own. She could feel the onset of another climax and was determined to get there before an overexcited Tom let himself go.

Fuck me, you bastard, Rita snarled, her teeth bared, painted nails digging into her lover’s hips while her buttocks left the bed and she thrust up to take more meat into her body. Fuck me. Hard! Bang me into the bed. Come on, Tom, she exhorted, her entreaty a squeal, her body moving urgently, everything focussed on her orgasm.

Spurred into a physical reaction by Rita’s challenge Tom began to do exactly as she instructed. He slammed into her, thrusting deep for several strokes before, working on instinct, he altered the depth and tempo and angle of his attack.

It seemed to work, the irregularity bringing enthusiastic cries from Rita as she continued to stir her vulva with her fingers

That’s it! Rita yelped, her chest and throat suffused pink. That’s lovely. That’s just what I wanted. Oh, Tom, you’re doing so well. You’re first time and you’re fucking me so well. I’m going to get there, darling. I’m going to come if you keep on loving me like this.

Thrilled by those words, Tom, albeit a little clumsy from lack of experience, hooked Rita’s knees around his forearms. He somehow, as he thrust deep into her, with Rita groaning and moaning, her eyes rolling, managed to lean in and kiss her mouth.

I’m coming, Rita grunted into that kiss. I’m ¦ Fucking ¦ Coming.

The violence of the woman’s climax, her tensed muscles, her arched back, jaw clenched as she spat and hissed through gritted teeth, crazed eyes locked on Tom’s face while he stared down at her, carried him into his own juddering orgasm.

Rita¦ Tom managed before the surge began. But no more words came out of him, he was incapable of uttering a single coherent sound, all he could do was grunt hugely and let the flood rush out of him.

Rita’s eyes widened, her hips slowing when, as her own climax rolled on, she registered that Tom was in the throes of his.

Give it to me, darling, she panted. Pour it into me.

Tom grimaced and thrust against Rita, the urge to be deeper inside her a visceral imperative. A sob burst out of him, the words coming thick and glutinous as he, spent, collapsed on top of a jubilant Rita.

I love you, Rita. Emotion swelled in his chest. God ¦ I love you. I want to do this with you forever.

Her arms encircled Tom while they both struggled for breath. Shush, darling. Not now. Don’t say that to me now, darling. You don’t mean it. Her hand smoothed his short hair, her fingers caressing Tom’s neck as he gasped into the pillow.

His muffled voice came to her: I do, Rita.

No, Tom. You don’t. You don’t love me. Not properly, darling. It’s just the moment. It’s what we’ve just done. That’s what you’re feeling.

The bed heaved with Tom’s movement. He stared down at her, his eyes filling with the enormity of what he felt.

But it feels so¦ he began, shaking his head when the words he needed refused to form. Tom didn’t have the vocabulary to express what he felt.

I know, Tom. I feel it too. What we did tonight ¦ Yes, it’s special. I wanted it to be that way for you. Rita nodded. And you’ll feel something for me forever, darling. You’ll hold me dear in your heart because we made your first time so wonderful. But it isn’t love, Tom. Rita grimaced and shook her head. Oh, it’s love of a kind, yes, but it isn’t true romantic love.

She was wrong. He loved her. But I want it to be.

A single tear slid from the corner of Rita’s eye. That’s a dear, dear thing to say, you lovely, lovely man. She reached up and brought Tom’s face down to hers for a lingering kiss. Was it special, Tom? Did I make it wonderful for you?

He sighed and nodded. Yes.

Do you think you could manage to do it again? asked Rita, a smirk twisting her lips. She wriggled beneath her lover. It feels like you’re still capable.

Do you want to?

Rita chuckled and began to move. Do I feel like I want to?

Yes, Tom decided. She definitely did.