His sister in law does not approve of Gary Fowler's new interest in the young widow at the Grange. Will she believe it is only "business"?
The expected bang on the wall came at nine thirty and though Gary was definitely ready for it, he had to be careful. He left his TV on in the living room, turned off the kitchen lights and quietly opened the back door. He silently straddled the back fence and entered the adjoining semi-detached house. Tracey was there waiting for him. ‘Cor. Just what I need' she gushed as they kissed, as a pair of lovers with moral abandon kiss.
A trail of clothes later and they were up the stairs, on the bed and Tracey was receiving her treatment.
They had begun having sex one month before and Tracey had, at first, been staggered by the difference between the lovemaking of her husband and the aggressive domination of Gary, but, in truth, she had suspected her own partiality for such things some time before that. Now, Gary Fowler had the slim young wife on her knees with her hands pinned behind, aggressively banging his big cock into her soppy, wet pussy without any regard for her personal feelings or wants. Tracey had loved it, the submission, the energy; and she loudly voiced that, knowing that she need not heed any eavesdropping neighbours.
But with each of Gary’s visits she loved it less. She knew what came next, and after that, knew how it ended, and after a couple of dozen times of this conceit, it had all become a bit tired and she was clever enough to see that more and more would be needed to satisfy her. Under the circumstances, she balked at the idea. Predictably, step two of Gary’s procedure duly came.
Gary let go of her wrists and gathered up her hair with both hands, twisted the long dark locks around his right hand and pulled the bunch tight. He slowed his rhythm as he did and started punching his dick into her deep warmth. ‘Ah, Ah, Gary, Gary!’ Tracy began to perform what was expected. It had all been so different thirty days before. Then the shock and fear had caused eruptions in her central nervous system and the pain had somehow increased that. The orgasm that had burst forth as a result had been the most totemic and unforgettable she had ever had.
‘Oh, yes! You dirty bitch, you love being fucked hard don’t you!’ Gary found one of Tracey’s white bum cheeks and slapped it hard. She again yelped with alarm.
‘Eek! Oh fuck, oh fuck yes.' With Tracey's head now inclined upward, Gary was presented with her vulnerable white throat and he placed his free left hand lightly around it.
‘Do you like it, you fucking whore?’ he whispered.
Tracey, did not initially answer, her concentration was on withstanding the sharp thrusts into her that her lover was delivering. He removed the light choke and slapped her hard across the face.
‘Yes, yes, I love it, God!’
He pushed her back into an arch and resumed his throttle, squeezing firmly. But that fear that was once instilled during their first sex now, didn’t happen, and she knew the orgasm that she was about to have would not crash as it once had, like a truck into a gasometer.
Gary increased his pace, his thoughts turning to the Barton’s and he pictured them both, sharing their tits with his eager mouth, he didn’t take long to come to an end and leant back as he prematurely churned his newly minted spunk deep into Tracey’s already occupied womb.
In her turn, Tracey screamed and shrieked and tried to have as convincing an orgasm as she possibly could as she accepted his cum. She was glad that this little arrangement was coming to an end. But on the whole it had been nice.
Gary disengaged and lay back panting on the bed, his glistening penis slowly softening. Tracey took her opportunity to spread her face over his ripped chest. She would finish herself later thinking about it.
‘Bloody hell lass, I needed that I tell yer.'
‘Mmm.' Tracey oozed convincingly. ‘It’s a shame that’s it, in’t it.' She referred to the forthcoming honourable discharge of her husband from the army. He was Gary’s half brother and comrade.
This reality left the pair in silence for a while. Gary had begun to notice the little fatness that had gathered around Tracey’s belly. She was three months pregnant and had definitely satisfied the strange increase in libido that this brought, but they both knew that the careful assignations would have to stop. They both lit cigarettes.
‘It’s still another three bloody weeks till he’s out.' Gary was frustrated.
‘Aye, but I need to get ready for him. He’ll bloody tell if things are wrong,' Tracey replied.
You could say Darren and Gary had never met, in the same way that you could say that a pair of brothers had never met. They had lived next door to each other when they were toddlers, boys and young men and they were lucky enough to have bought adjoining houses in their home village. It was only when they had reached adulthood that his father confessed the truth, that he was father to both. Darren had a job lined up with the family firm. If it were not for this one monumental indiscretion, life would have been sweet.
The pair sat silently smoking for a while before Tracey spoke. ‘So, she’s got big tits; what else’s she like?’
‘Yer ladyship?’ Gary slowly considered his new client. ‘She seems a bit soft to me. No bloody regard for money I can tell yer. Me Dad’s gonner have a fit when he sees how much I charged her,' he suppressed a laugh, 'Its all overtime mind, so I can get away with it, I reckon.'
He stroked Tracey’s hair. ‘What’s she like though.'
‘Short, flirty, plumpish, wears tons of make-up. Make you feel better?’
Tracey registered this and then slapped him firmly on the chest. ’I’m not jealous yer big lump.' She settled back into his thin pelt. ‘Bit worried to be honest, from what I’ve heard.'
‘Aye? What’s that then?’ he had pricked up his ears.
‘Well, I bumped into that Mrs. Abel in’t shop this morning. She said she had seen your van going up int’a Grange just then when she wa’ walking down hill wi’ dogs.' Gary wasn’t that dim to know exactly what this meant and Tracey recognized his change in breathing. ‘oh, she were just fishing, the bloody hag, I weren’t born yesterday. I just said “oh aye”, right blank like. “he did say summat about that in’t pub”’.
‘Right.' said Gary, not exactly reassured.
‘Well we got talking ‘bout her. She used to clean up a't big hall when Mrs. Barton were a little lass yer see. She says she were a right sly one. Always sneaking around playing tricks. But get this though, right. She used to tell’t servants to do stuff, right, then, they’d refuse to do it because they only did what lady muck told them to do, like.'
Gary followed this gossip with interest. He was still reforming his plan of attack with regards to Samantha Barton. His prior conquests of wifely clients had been ridiculously easy, most involved invitations to the house for a tea or drink of wine, observations of body language, seductive approaches and final magnetic collisions. Such had been the case with soft spoken Mrs Flaherty just before Easter during a warm spell. She had wanted to gently massage him, using all of her professional skill, and feel the taut muscle fibres of his wonderfully proportioned body. But Gary had had different ideas and Mrs. Flaherty was left disconsolate and angry. He made sure that what he had taken was only from her bedroom, but he had managed to get a pretty sum for those trinkets from his city contacts. His old habits were too attractive to him.
‘Then, and this was when she was little mind, she’d like discuss it wiv’ em’ and the servants would like, find themselves doing what she wanted, without realizing it.' Tracey breathed out. 'Bloody weird. In’t it’
So? Gary thought. This little “bit” was going to be work. ‘Ah lass. She’s already halfway there. Was her idea for all’t tiling.'
‘Aye, but I’m just sayin,' maybe yer should, like, just leave this one eh?’
Gary snorted his contempt at this idea. ‘Bloody ‘ell. You are jealous!’ This accusation was rewarded by another slap on the chest and another derisory laugh from Gary.
‘She’s got a daughter, j’know that?’
‘Aye, she mentioned the fact.' That he had discovered the daughter to be just, if not more, appealing than the mother he thought best to hide.
‘That’s weird in’t it? Even that old bag Abel didn’t know till summer last year when they moved back in.'
‘Well, she’s been off at them posh schools hadn’t she? Since the Captain died.'
‘No, Mrs Abel says it ain’t his.'
‘But she wouldn’t know would she. Anyway does it matter?’ Gary dismissed the notion of any danger. In his brutish naivety all he saw was an opportunity for a bit of rewarding fun. His friable mind wandered again back to the Grange at the top of the hill and it’s two enticing occupants. He imagined servicing Samantha in his tried and tested way, with young Rachel watching, perky big tits perched on her young chest with her legs astride, satisfying herself with that stupid blank look on her face and waiting for her turn. ‘Aye, that’s grand,' he spoke aloud.
‘What’s grand?’ replied Tracey.
‘Oh, err, all the overtime I’ll be getting in the next three weeks’ he replied hastily.
‘Yeah, I bet Gary Fowler,' His lover replied, and snuggled into his chest again.
Later in the night, he almost exactly reversed his surreptitious entry into Darren and Tracey’s house and, in the darkness evaded the constant observations of the close knit community. Tracey’s revelations had heightened his sense of expectation in the chase for his new prey. It felt like he was back in combat once more.