Gary begins work on the new commission from Mrs. Barton. But, will they be able to keep their hands off eachother?
Wilf Lyons, the Gardener to Sir Roderick and Lady Billingham, unlocked the side door to the main lawn at the Grange. Gary entered with his tools and material at 5 o’clock prompt. His mind had been a hurricane of anticipation all day and his workmates had noticed and tormented him. His father too, had noticed, warned him off any funny business on this irregular, out of hours job, and had hoped that some of his concern had lodged.
‘Your ‘ere then young Fowler.' Wilf grunted. He was sent here from the estate one day a week to try to contain Lady Billingham’s daughter’s large garden and was grumpy about the task. He’d probably get a hamper for all of his efforts at Christmas.
‘Ayup Wilf,’ smiled Gary, ‘are you by yersen.'
‘Aye, tha' knows it' the old man replied, ‘and ‘bout to go woam.' He looked over to the swimming pool. ‘I ain’t got a cushy number like yous.'
Gary laughed. ‘I’ll be here till eight you old codger, and I started bloody early an’ all.'
‘Don’t know what she wants with smashin’ up perfectly good tiles,' he grimaced, ‘could be spending that money on gettin’ some help for me.'
‘Wilf, you do't work a' ten.' Gary paused and asked a question that was on his mind. ‘What do you know about her Wilf?'
‘Ha!’ Wilf laughed, ‘thinkin’ about walzin’ arm in arm in’t lounge for some sausage and mash eh lad? She ain’t been seen within half a mile of the village she han’t, so don’t go gettin’ them daft ideas.’
‘Bloody hell, slow down, yer old codger,' Gary retorted, ‘I’m just worried about me custom, some posh folks like to pay, some don’t, you know?'
Wilf scrunched up his face and laughed. ‘Ah, she’s good for it, and you can always tap her Dad. There’s money lad.'
Gary pretended to be reassured as Wilf disappeared through the gate and toward the village. He unloaded his kit, removed his shirt, lay his sheeting and began work.
Half an hour later he heard the crunch of a car on the gravel drive and the soft thumps of two luxury vehicle doors closing. Three minutes later he saw the same curtain twitching in the upstairs bedroom that he had noticed the day before. He stood and performed an unnecessary stretch, puffing out his chest and giving his best catalogue pose. ‘That’ll give the lass something to frig about’ he thought.
Another half hour later and there was still no sign of the mother. He was working on the first of the tricky shapes around the spill-over when he heard a soft familiar voice.
‘Hello Gary, how is the work coming along?'
He turned and worked his eyes up her body. She wore flip flops, a short skirt, and a blouse, knotted beneath her lovely big bust. She had tied her hair back and he barely recognized her. The thick make up was gone, and replaced with none; or at least with a more subtle application. She was pretty. She had freckles.
‘Hello Mrs. Barton. Aye. It’s going well. Just need to get past this bit and we’re cooking.'
‘I’ve brought you some lemonade. I hope that’s alright.' She stood close to him, quite unaware of Gary’s space.
‘Aye,' he replied, ‘I’ll never say no.' She handed him the glass and offered hers for an awkward clink.
‘We have been looking at a couple of schools for Rachel today. I must say it is harder work that I expected.'
Gary had a different idea of hard work but deferred to politeness. ‘I guess it is, all that driving and talkin’ and form filling.'
Samantha Barton realised her odd miss-application of words and blushed. Gary, though hard bitten, was rather enchanted that such a vulnerability was now apparent.
‘You are looking different today Mrs. Barton, is it your hair,' He asked?
Samantha’s colour deepened further. ‘Yes, she shyly replied, ‘I seem to have got into habits recently, I thought a change might help.'
’It does that,' replied Gary brusquely. It was now his turn to be bashful. ‘Sorry Mrs. Barton, I meant to say a change does help.'
Samantha gave an expression that signified that she was charmed by Gary’s awkwardness. They, without realizing, had inched closer to each other.
‘The girl I go to in town, Susie, she was so excited by it, she said she had hoped for years that I would be “more natural”. It does make me nervous though. Like I am a little naked.'
Gary looked around in apparent discomfort, though it was more to stop a growing arousal. He failed when his eyes again alighted on Samantha’s face, whose own focused on him intently.
‘I am keeping you from your work, you must be in a hurry to finish today with the light going. Keep your glass. Bring it up to the house, before you go.'
‘Aye Mrs. Barton.' replied Gary as she turned and walked away, treating him again to the perfect symmetry of her mobile backside. ‘What the bloody hell happened there?' he thought to himself. He had fully expected any emotion generated by Samantha Barton to be focused solely on his genitals. This odd flushy feeling was definitely unexpected, and unwelcome.
The light did fade and by eight he had cleared away his tools, replaced his shirt and laid the ground sheets, keeping the bare concrete clean and dry for the next day. He walked back to the house carrying his empty glass and tapped lightly on the French windows. Mrs. Barton answered with a soft smile, ‘Bring it through, oh, don’t worry about your boots, it’s not that kind of house.'
‘It is a grand house,' noted Gary.
‘It is, we worked hard to make it what we wanted, my husband and I,' she leant on the kitchen worktop throwing her shape to her front, ‘you knew him, so I understand.'
This surprised Gary and he showed it. ‘How did you…'
‘Oh, my mother is worse than any of the gossips in the village I can tell you. And she never forgets.'
It was an moment of his life that he didn’t expect to recount with Samantha Barton. ‘Well, I got into trouble when I were leaving school, like, and Captain Barton helped me out, like, saw me straight. Got me into the army you see.'
‘He was generous.'
‘He was.'
‘He was much loved.'
‘Aye, by his lads n’all.'
The pair was silent for a while before Mrs. Barton spoke. ‘I’m about to open a bottle of Chablis, care to join me?' She offered.
‘S’that wine?' Asked Gary. ‘I don’t know that much about it to be honest.'
Samantha approached him playfully and stuck out her chin. ‘Then let me be your guide.'
Gary had rarely had such a conversation with a woman. Samantha was lovely company. She listened, lightly challenged his meagre intelligence and found his army tales fascinating. As the wine level descended in the bottle, so her physical attitude became more appealing, unknowingly playing with the buttons on her blouse or pulling her shoulders back when she laughed at his stories. Gary had lost himself in the evening.
‘Oh, she suddenly announced rather drunkenly, ‘I have some snacks somewhere,’ she walked over to a cupboard. ‘They are up here, I try to keep them away from the little madam, move the stool over would you?' Gary did as he was bid and was treated to a flash of pale blue underwear as an inebriated Samantha rummaged around in a high shelf. She emerged with two packets of bread sticks. Nourishment with which Gary was unfamiliar. Moving from the stool to the fridge she bent down to retrieve a set of savoury dips, again paying no regard to her revealing posture. ‘Mmm, yes, these will do just nicely,' she cooed, ‘Top up?'
‘Aye, lovely thanks,' he replied, anxiously watching what Mrs. Barton might do with this exotic foodstuff. The first stick was broken in two and, after removing the top cellophane cover of the dips, Mrs. Barton considered each one in turn.
‘Lets try the salsa.' she decided. The stick went in and came out liberally covered in the tomato like sauce which was crunched between her teeth. ‘Oh, that’s so nice.'
Gary had seen enough to try without committing too great a social error. He did the same. ‘Whoa!' he was surprised by the flavour. Cold, but not cold. And spicy.
‘I knew you’d like it. Try this one.' She pointed to a coarse yellow-grey concoction and Gary dipped and bit. He scrunched his nose.
Samantha Barton laughed. ‘Hummus, that one takes some liking.' She perused the choices in front of her. ‘I’ll…Try…this one.' She dipped her stick into a white sauce with little green flakes, however rather than biting it , drew it past her lips drawing the white fluid into her mouth. As the bread stick emerged she closed her eyes, licked the front of her top lip and hummed. ‘Mmm, that is so good.' She declared.
Gary’s gentleman’s area had been tingling for some time. It now began activation.
‘Try some Gary.' She noticed his apprehension and giggled. ‘It’s only dill pickle you silly sausage.'
‘Aye, alright then.' He dipped his stick in the pickle and it appeared with a thick covering.
‘Wait,' interrupted Samantha, ‘I’ll have that,' and she moved her head forward and opened her lovely mouth, signifying to Gary where he should place his morsel of food. She greeted it with an extended tongue and lusciously extracted all of the white fluid from the stick, carelessly allowing a little to drip onto her chin, which she transferred in no less a manner, with her finger, back into her mouth.
It goes without saying that Gary had never experienced seduction of this quality before, and the notion that it was such, flew directly over his head. All he knew was that his hard on was burning and Mrs. Barton’s valley like cleavage was now his to admire.
Samantha now put two bread sticks into the dill pickle and they emerged with a precarious amount on them. Most didn’t make it to her mouth, and landed with an audible splat on her neckline and upper chest, with some running inside her blouse. ‘Oh, silly me,' she chortled. ‘I’m not usually such a messy eater.' She loosened another two buttons and probed into her cleavage and under her gossamer thin bra, seductively licking her fingers with each globule that she found.
Gary thought it appropriate to be playful too and helped himself to a copious quantity of pickle that dripped with the same result. Large dollops of the cream landed on his heavily exposed chest. Samantha visibly smouldered at the sight, breathing in and pushing out her chest. ‘Is that for me?' she asked.
‘Aye, lass. I can’t reach it.' he replied.
Samantha moved into a position on the kitchen counter where her breasts pushed lightly on Gary’s stomach muscles and reached to undo the buttons on his shirt. ‘We won’t be needing this,' she declared, and after unfastening the last, slipped the garment from his shoulders. It fell away on the floor. ‘The same goes for this.' She nodded down at her own partially removed blouse and Gary’s thick calloused fingers undid the remaining buttons and dropped that item to join his, on the floor.
Samantha Barton may have been in her mid-thirties but she retained a taut firmness to her body to accompany her womanly goodness. Gary feasted his eyes on her chest as she drunkenly displayed her covered boobs to him, one at a time. ‘Ya, can ‘ave a feel if ya like.' She informed him in the local accent, which made him smile. Her bra was unlike any he had seen before. It was smooth, shimmering to the touch and Samantha’s skin twitched as he gently stroked through it. ‘it’s silk’ she gasped. ‘you wouldn’t believe how much it cost.'
‘It feels lovely on me fingers.’ Gary admitted, whose touch migrated to her now proud nipples.
Samantha closed her eyes as Gary lightly touched these sensitive areas. ‘It heightens everything, silk, I love being touched.' She began moving her hands through his chest hair. He responded with a low growl that shuddered into his new lovers breasts as he began touching their undersides.
This slow attention was new to Gary. In all of his sexual encounters whether it be barmaids, shop girls, usherettes, Cypriot prostitutes and on one memorable occasion a Chinese airline stewardess, he had dominated and taken control and had done this, even with his first time with Jane, one of the clever girls at school. She was still unmarried, pretty as she was. He saw her in town her from time to time and when he did he felt an irritation that churned his insides. If he were one for self-analysis, then perhaps he would have identified the conflict of interest that his wish for security and his wish for freedom generated. But, as he was not, that dull emotion was just another feature of his life.
But the fact remained, never in his life had he ever let a woman take her own time and he found, to his surprise that he was rather partial to it.
‘Mmm,' Mrs. Barton murmured as she sank her nose into his armpit and inhaled deeply. ‘Yes, that’s what I want.'
Gary understood. Both had felt an attraction to each other that went beyond sight. There was a chemical bond that he had noticed the first time she had approached him. An animal bond.
‘I think we should move upstairs.' Samantha suggested. ‘Rachel should be in bed, but she does have a habit of wandering about.' She bent to pick up both dropped garments and led Gary backwards across the parquet toward the stairs with Gary faithfully following.
In the bedroom, Samantha and Gary began to kiss, softly at first but then with vigour. Gary was beginning to understand this new dynamic and for the moment, his natural urges were placed firmly under control by this confident older woman. She detached from him and stood apart, dropping her skirt to the floor. She looked directly into his eyes, arched her back as he took in her glory and moved to undo the centre clasp of her silken brassiere. It fell away, leaving her exposed breasts to sink slightly and settle into their natural position.
Gary focused his attention on them. ‘Lass, you are a miracle.' It was the most poetic thing he had said in years. He undid his own belt clumsily and stumbled as he removed his work trousers, cursing himself privately. Finally he presented himself to Samantha as he was the day he had finished his last tour. Muscular, fit, fat free. Samantha though was focused on his tight underwear. She moved forward to find what was underneath, her breasts swinging and jolting playfully.
She moved the hemline of his pants down exposing the root of his cock. It descended slowly, exposing the veins and skin of the shaft, all of the time it’s rigidity forced the elastic upward. To Samantha it seemed to have no end and her eyes widened as her hands descended. Finally the head appeared and it released the frictional grasp on the fabric, flew upward with a jolt and bounced with Gary’s elevated pulse. Samantha stared as this natural phenomena played out and Gary’s penis pointed directly at the underside of her large boobs. Mrs Barton reciprocated and the pair were naked in front of each other.
Gary’s cooperation in all of this pair mating was never realistically going to last and he was rapidly in the process of reverting to type. He found comfort in the familiar and the familiar to him was control and domination. The dark veil was descending, his animal instinct took hold and the little mother became a doll in his hands which he turned aggressively and pushed onto the bed. He lifted her and placed her on her knees, seizing both of her arms and holding them with his large left hand. ‘Gary!’ Samantha protested, but he was having none of that. As she wriggled, he arched her back forcibly, felt her wetness and placed his big cock on the rounded folds of her warm nether region. ‘Gary!’ she protested again, more calmly that he would have expected considering his actions. He drove forward, expecting a response from his lover that he did not receive, but began pumping hard regardless. ‘Err, Gary?' stated a bored sounding Mrs. Barton. Again, he ignored her passivity and slapped her rear. At this point Samantha found herself with one free hand and made instant use of it by grabbing his testicles firmly. ‘Gary, stop!’ she demanded. Her lover’s momentum remained, however, and he continued to thrust aggressively into her soft and deep pussy. ‘Right! She stated calmly and squeezed hard with her hand. He instantly stopped, mentally connected with the pain and shouted loudly.
Samantha moved forward and withdrew the offending meat from inside, turned and sternly faced the now demonstrably corrected Gary Fowler. ‘Ok now, are we calm, are we calm Gary?' she confidently asked. His bright red face gulped like a fish as he withstood the pain in his gonads. ‘I’m going to loosen my grip now,' she stated, ‘swing for me, and I’ll rip them off, ok?'
Gary nodded as he grimaced and the pain subsided, to be replaced by a firm comforting encapsulation.
‘Ok, listen to me Gary and listen properly, do you understand?' Again he nodded, sweat running from his brow. ‘You are a rank amateur Gary. You go at it like a virgin dog. Now that might work for your barmaids in the Plough down in the village but it will not satisfy me. Do you understand?'
As he began to recover from his recent trauma Gary felt the emotions of humiliation begin to kick in. He had had many fights in his time and recognised when he was on the losing side. At those particular moments a policy of anger was the wrong one and unless he were faced with an actual enemy, not another comrade in arms, the best reaction was to acquiesce. He nodded.
‘I want to be made love to. It is a man’s job to identify that. You are a man, I can see.' She nodded down to his still erect, still alert dick. ‘So I want to show you what it means to be made love to. If you will trust me. I will trust you, Okay?' She smiled at him and meekly, Gary nodded yet again.
Both breathed together as the new situation established itself. ‘Now,' said Samantha. ‘I am going to the side table over there and I am going to let go of your tackle. If you make a go at me, I will open your head up with the table lamp. Understand?'
Gary was more or less recovered and spoke for the first time in minutes. The energy of the moment cowed him. ‘Aye,' he sounded subdued, ‘I get it.'
Samantha breathed out, smiled and released her grip. He was impressed by her officer like calmness. It reminded him of her husband. She returned from the table with two small bottles of what looked like perfume. ‘This is an aromatic oil, and this is an extract of the tea tree. One soothes, one heightens.' Gary looked at both wearily. This was all so very new.
He lay recumbent on the bed supporting himself with his elbows as Mrs. Barton poured some of the tea tree oil on her hands. ‘Now, tell me honestly Gary. When was the last time you ejaculated? The question was unexpected and perplexed him. ‘I don’t care how you came or with whom, just when?' she asked again.
‘Yesterday evening.' Came the rather downcast reply.
‘So, twenty four hours them?' Gary replied in the affirmative. ‘It matters you see,' Samantha continued, ‘if I am to get you to a perfect place, I need to adjust my technique.' She placed her lotion covered hand on his pleasantly sized cock.
To Gary, it felt cold, with a slight tingling sensation, much like the salsa dip he had eaten earlier. She moved his foreskin down, revealing the very top of his glans. Samantha took the other bottle and poured a small amount into the little well and widened it, revealing his bell end and this spread the warm feeling of the oil down his penis. He gave an intake of breath. ‘This will help with the dilation of the skin,' Samantha explained, ‘you will feel all the more pleasure with a looser foreskin.'
Her long and oily strokes began, and finally the skin over his penis relented to such a degree that it exposed a full inch of cock beneath the purple head. Samantha, at this point, delved the tip of her tongue into the urethral opening and played deftly with it. Gary groaned and Samantha rose and smiled. ‘You are really a lovely man Gary Fowler.' She gushed. ‘I love, and I mean really love, your big cock.' Again she poked her tongue into the joy hole at the very tip and slowly wanked the shaft. She moistened her lips and descended, taking the top into her mouth and revolved her tongue around it. Gary gasped in delight. Nothing in his experience had ever prepared him for the sensual pleasures he was experiencing. The combination of Samantha’s huge tits swinging against his leg, the oils, the situation, the overwhelming power this little woman had, her prowess and the unforgettable sequence of events that had got him to this place, began to have an effect on his sexual system. His balls, surrounded, gently this time by Samantha’s cupped hand began to twitch their way toward a finish. His partner, however was far too experienced to allow this to happen so soon and held his hard penis loose and static. ‘Not yet, not yet my love.’ she softly whispered into his ear. With both hands now free she poured a little of the tea tree oil onto her tits and slowly massaged it in. Gary’s hand joined hers and together they took each of the weighty orb and played with them.
When she had judged Gary past the point of danger, maybe after a minute, she leaned forward and placed his cock between her breasts and slowly milked it with her oily cleavage. She continued to speak softly and dirtily to him. ‘Do you like my titty wank Gary?' she asked.
‘Oh, yes.' He replied. His pan was being brought to the boil once more.
‘I do too, I love the feel of your cock between my tits, they are so sensitive, even though they are nice and big. Do you like my big titties Gary?'
His thermometer started to rise again and it wasn’t long before he felt that familiar pressure at the base of his testicles, his breathing changed and, gulping, he nervously began searching the room. This response was all too familiar to Samantha and, with perfect timing again, she relented all of her activity, leaving the object of both of their passions to pulse and twitch alone in the warm air. More minutes passed as Gary’s delight of being on the edge of the cliff continued.
The crevice on the underside of his bell end became the next focus of attention as her slow masturbation started once more and her tongue explored. Unexplainably, Gary started to breathe deeply and heavily as though he were exercising and this new behaviour seemed to be a signal to Samantha to commence her final act of satisfaction upon him. She placed the width of her tongue on the underside of his cock and drew it lovingly into her mouth. Further and further it went until Gary felt on it’s tip the obstruction of her throat. Here, the skills of Samantha came to the fore and Gary felt her oesophagus relax and accommodate his wide bell end. A sudden wave of pressure surrounded the length of his shaft as, suffocating as it seemed, she used her throat muscles to apply wave upon wave of stimulating pleasure. His lover didn’t this time stop him and he hurtled downward to what he fully expected to be his doom.
It was instead his salvation as mentally he felt as though a multi coloured cloud of tinsel had been cannoned into the air. His orgasm came as Samantha hastily extracted his cock from it’s oral home and provided Gary with his final surprise. Placing her thumb at the base of his shaft she softly pressed, half closing the aperture though which his joy would flow. The effect was immediate and dramatic and Gary’s loud screams and partial bleats echoed in the room. Simultaneously, his semen erupted and dashed it’s potency on the underside of Samantha’s chin then discharged jet after jet of creamy white spunk over her already sweat laden breasts. More came, less thick but still intense as Samantha sighed and cooed with delight at her success. ‘Oh Gary, for me please… yes, oh darling!’
At last Gary’s overwhelming pleasure came to an end and he sank, losing all muscle tone, into the bed clothes. He opened his mind from darkness to find Mrs. Barton stroking his hair, telling him how beautiful he was.
Five minutes later and they were still silently both in each other’s arms. ‘I’ve never…' began Gary.
Samantha twisted his chest hair gently. ‘Go on …' she encouraged him.
‘I never expected anything like that.' He confessed.
‘'that’s because you’ve never known. That’s all.' He thought about this for a while.
‘How many people do, can’t be many?'
‘If you are in love with someone and have a mind to experiment, you find out. Have you never been in love Gary?'
This was a question he had never been asked in his entire life. ‘No, I haven’t.' He confessed
Thirty minutes after that and the newly formed pair of lovers were still entwined. ‘I’m going to be away for the next three days Gary, looking at more Schools. Will you save yourself for me, please?'
‘Aye, I will. But now, don’t you want sommat in return, like.'
She smiled. ‘I was pleasuring myself all morning thinking of you Gary. I’m quite satisfied.'
‘Oh, right’ he replied. For a reason he couldn’t explain he was disappointed.
He drove home; he really had to leave. To have not had his van parked in front of his own house overnight would have set the village into a frenzy of talk and old Wilf would have made it known to all where he was. Gary felt a perverse mixture of elation and guilt from his evening with Samantha Barton. He had exposed to himself his own stupidity, had been humiliated and had bathed in her generosity. It left him both thoughtful and apprehensive for the future. But at least he had decided. He would not steal from Mrs. Barton.