3 comments/  8639 views/  8 favorites

Special Stations of the Mind

By: Rex Siter



He was an old man, frail and unsteady. The few other passengers on the local train, watching as he tottered to a seat, may have felt some concern for him. Sallow faced and feeble he was truly a candidate for public sympathy.

Sitting back in his seat, as the carriage doors closed, and the train jerked into motion on its circuitous route, old Harry Dayton, felt a spark of weird excitement. This would be his first journey on this line for many, many years. Once it had been his, daily, mode of travel, and he was pleased that he was close to the window enabling him to view the passing scene. How much of it had changed? How much would he remember?

Remembering was the main point of this journey. Observing the pitying glances of other passengers, he had allowed himself an internal smile. What would they think if they knew what thoughts played in the mind of this poor old guy? Would they believe that they were looking at a man who, back in his twenties, had prided himself on his success with women. 

Crazy? Were his expectations really so crazy? Were they really the overreaction of a senile mind? No, he was free to roam through memories in anyway he wanted. He couldn't even remember where he had encountered the map of the layout of this line. All he remembered was the flood of vague erotic memories that were triggered by seeing the names of certain stations on that map. The challenge to rebuild those memories, because each in its own way was different from the norm, was so strong. He just had to make this trip. 

He was no longer a well man. His doctor had warned him about taking unnecessary risks. But what was the risk in reliving happier times?

"The next station will be Farville," a female voice came over the loudspeaker.

Harry gazed at the passing range of back gardens, some immaculately tended, others a jungle of undergrowth. Farville was not one of the trigger stations for him, but he remembered how this current stretch had just been fields over sixty years ago.

"This station is Farville," came the calm female voice. One or two passengers lined up to leave the train. Two men in smart suits came on.

Harry was almost ready for the next announcement, "The next station will be Cattergate."

Yes, Cattergate, a memory that was furthest back. He had been to a birthday party, drink had flowed, and hadn't he missed the chance to get inside Brenda Brand's knickers. She had come leaning into him, asking if he wanted a kiss or 'something'. Why had he refused? No memory of what had diverted him. Within minutes, it seemed, he had spotted her climbing the stairs being fingered by a lad called Malcolm, who he'd never liked. Missed opportunity.

He'd only just caught the last train. The carriage hadn't been very full, but at Cattergate, where there was a large council estate, everybody else had got off, and he thought he would have the carriage to himself. He was just worrying that in his drunken state he might fall asleep, when a young woman just managed to squeeze through the closing doors.

That woke Harry up, for in just a few seconds he had taken in the good looking face, the blonde hair and the exquisite figure in a thin blue summer dress. To his utter amazement, after a momentary pause, as she viewed up and down the carriage, she came and sat opposite him. Why? That was the first thought on his mind, as she gave him a slight smile.

Harry tried looking out of the window, where the only view was the empty platform. 

"Been to a party?" she asked, her words slightly slurred.

Harry muttered a weak, "Yes," while his eyes fixed on the fact that the top two buttons of her dress had come loose, and the beginnings of two generous curves were on display. The sight was a magnet for his drunken eyes.

"Get anything?"

"Drunk," he said flatly, trying to look at her face, but his eyes kept dropping to the cleavage.

She laughed, a nice sound. "No touchy feely?"

God, she was forward, this one. "No, none of that," he admitted.

The dark eyes widened in surprise, before she asked, "Yes, I've had a poor night that way,too. Like to change it?"

"What do—?"But before he could frame his uncertain query she had moved to sit alongside him. 

"Now,"she said, with a little huskiness in her voice, "would you like to put your hand where your eyes have been basking?"

With a jerk the train began to move, while Harry had become a bundle of jelly, "I don't—"

But again she moved before he finished, as her hand grabbed his and slid it into the opening of her dress where the movement caused another button to pop. There was no bra, and Harry's hand, almost independent of his troubled thoughts, slid readily over the delightful orbs, savouring their delicacy.

"Feel good?" she asked. Harry looked up to see her eyes, in spite of her lascivious smile, clouding. "My God, what's that pressing down there?"

Harry had been very aware that he had become fully erect, almost at the first touch on her skin, and she was now gazing down at the bulge. Even as she looked she was reaching to smooth her hand over the mound in his pants. "Think he needs some freedom?"

Old Harry straightened in his seat as the train slowed and stopped at the present Cattergate station. As he looked toward the opening doors he could almost conjure the look of her again. The pale blue dress, the half revealed bosom, the cool, teasing smile, had him desperate to recover how their meeting went next. 

It came to him so easily. With a shuddering breath, he saw her fingers tugging at his zip. She was going to touch it, feel it. His own fingers tightened on her breast. While her left hand continued to lower his zip, her right hand came to where his hand entered her dress opening and she flicked at another button, so that the whole breast was free. Almost in the same action her face came close to his, her lips slightly parted, "Shouldn't we have a kiss?" she breathed, and her mouth being so close there was little point in refusing. Not that he wanted to. 

The next second their lips were meshed together and her tongue was playing over his, and along the inside of his cheeks. He had tongued girls before but the sensations had never been so electrifying, so intense. But even as he revelled in the joys of the kiss and the fingering of her nipples, he realised her hand was inside his pants reaching for his wildly erect penis.

As soon as her fingers closed around it, drawing it free of his pants, Harry feared that he might lose control under her eager handling, but it was she who broke the kiss to gasp, "Jesus, what do you have here?" And she was staring, wide eyed, at his erection, the purple head ballooning out as she drew back the foreskin. Harry could not remember seeing it looking so bulbous.

"How many women has that been up?"

Harry hesitated with his answer, but there was no point in withholding the truth. "Only one," he admitted, deciding the whole truth was personal. His one and only time had been with a girl called Rita, and had been all very hasty, little foreplay, and as she parted her thighs, eager for his entry, he had shot his load all over her inner thighs, only just managing to enter her even as his erection collapsed. 

"One! With a glorious cock like that?" Her use of the word might have shocked him in any other circumstance, but she went on to ask, "How old are you?"

"Going on nineteen," he said.

"University student?"

He nodded, and she gave him a determined look, before saying, "Well, excuse me, but you could do with some further education." Without any more words she dropped her head down to take his swollen penis directly into her mouth, pressing down so that he felt the head hit against the back of her throat. Harry had heard about this, had read about it, but never had his penis been in a woman's mouth Then she began sliding her mouth back and forth along his length. God, it was fantastic, but Harry feared that he would be shooting within seconds, but maybe it was the drink he'd consumed that held him back. With her bending over it was difficult to keep his hand on her breast.

As though guessing this she briefly released him to gasp, "Put your hand between my legs. Find my spot. Feel me. I'm ripe for it. And pull my panties down."

Harry could not believe this was happening to him in a train carriage. The train was in motion again. How far to the next station? What if someone got on? He found that she had moved her left leg, way back so that her legs were totally parted, and two lower buttons had loosened. There could only have been one button holding the dress together.

As her mouth continued its elaborate performance over his penis, his fingers slid over the wetness of her silken panties. The whole of her nether body was soaked. He hooked his fingers around the crotch of the panties, tugged and was amazed how easily they came down, with the help of a little wriggle from her. Then his fingers were roaming that fantastic crevice, front to back, touching on what felt to be a very ready hole, hearing her grunt at that.

He knew that it was the clitoris that was a big turn on for women, and that it was not always easy to find. Once he had been with a girl who had shown him how to find it, had orgasmed heavily, but was keeping the final act until she was married. So he knew where to probe, and with this lady it took no finding. That little nub was up and proud. But the moment he touched it, her mouth came away from his penis, and she was gasping, "Oh, God, I've got to have this creature deep inside me."

Her actions pushed Harry to one side as she lay back on the length of the seat, drawing him back on top of her. She reached for him again, panting, " I've had some cock in my time, but this-Oh, quick, inside me, before we get to Forkton."

Harry had been worrying about the next station, but this lady was clearly positive and sure of herself, and here he was poised to have a real full entry into a woman. For some reason he wasn't worried about what might happen if it was like with Rita, because this lady already had him poised at the lips of her vagina, and all he had to do was push.

Already her hips had been thrusting and the moment his erection entered her, she gave what was almost an animal howl and bucked and heaved under him. Moving up inside her was a wonderful sensation for Harry, the smoothness , the heat, the moisture, the frantic motion of her hips, drew all he had out of him so that, as she hit her high, he was pouring his juices deep, deep into her, his penis head striking her cervix, he was sure.

As they lay panting the train began to slow. In those days there was no announcer, and the lady eased him aside, pulling at her panties, fastening up her dress. "Better put that away, "she laughed, standing, only slightly dishevelled, as the doors opened. She leaned forward and kissed him quickly on the lips, before saying, "Thank you, for making my evening. I wish there could be more." This was her stop? Harry couldn't believe it. She was gone, and the doors closed. For a brief second as the train pulled away, he saw her walking away without a backward glance..

Old Harry found that he was panting heavily as though he had just carried out those long gone activities. Worriedly he glanced at the other passengers to see if they had noticed something strange about his behaviour, but they all seemed preoccupied. He had later checked the time between Callergate and Forkton stations and the whole episode with that unnamed lady could not have taken more than five minutes.

Watching houses and gardens gallop by the window, old Harry had to admit his surprise at how many aspects of that occasion had come back to him. The first time he had heard a woman use the word 'cock'. Time eventually would tell him that getting mutual orgasm like that. although possible, was not that easy. It all proved that this trip of memories was well worth the bother.

One thing was certain, after those few moments of delight, Harry's experience with the opposite sex blossomed. His confidence boosted, he began to develop quite a reputation among the female members of the university fraternity. He flinched at the egotistical thought that, gradually, he had become quite accomplished at giving those young ladies something to remember.

He and his big university mate, Bill Sanders, would exchange notes on their conquests. Bill had declared from the outset that he was an amateur lover, who was, while at university, eager to boost himself up to professional status. Long after university they were to keep in touch, exchanging news of sexual conquests. Bill's motto was, "Marriage is pointless, when thighs part so readily."

Harry smiled to himself now, as the world raced by the window. That all seemed so immature now. The train was moving away from the Fieldway station which had been his stop when he lived with his parents. Harry drew in a deep breath as he knew what was coming.

"The next station will be Rander Street."

Ah, yes, Rander Street, just a short line away. He felt a strange queasiness, as the memories started to come to life. Just turned twenty two, out of university with a good degree in finances and business studies, he had been on the point of finding himself both a flat and a second hand car. On this particular night he had gone to a dance hall some way out of the city.

The place was always crowded on a Friday night, and early on he'd noticed this fairly tall, willowy figure in a yellow blouse which appeared to be under pressure. When he was closer he saw, under a flow of blonde hair, an attractive face with a wide mouth and vivid green eyes. They had danced, and the voluptuous way she pressed against him sent eager signals to his brain. By the time they had the fourth dance he was having an instant erection every time she came near. And her grinding against him promised much.

They left before the dancing ended, and discovering they were heading for the same train, had time to exchange hot kisses, behind a platform pillar, where she had no objections to his squeezing an excitingly rounded breast.

Harry wasn't sure whether he was kidding himself, but whenever her green eyes looked at him they appeared to be full of desire and promise. Her name was Sharon and she was twenty six years old,

Arms linking them together on the carriage seat, she leaned into him and whispered, "Would you like to come to my flat for—"And her pause was deliberately seductive, "- a coffee."

There was much more than coffee on offer, Harry was sure. He accepted without delay, and was standing eagerly behind her as she unlocked the door of her downstairs flat.

Inside his eyes quickly took in a smart sofa and easy chair, a sideboard and two doors, one leading to a kitchen. But before his eyes could register any more he found himself pressed back against the door as Sharon flung herself against him, her hungry mouth wildly seeking his, while her hands pushed under his shirt, and her nails raked ligjhtly over his skin.

Totally overwhelmed by her ardour, Harry responded, thrusting his tongue along and around hers. But before he could do anything else, she had stepped back, eyes afire, breasts heaving. "Harry, I like it rough. Rough and dirty. Don't be too careful with me. Now, strip me."

Puzzled by the nature of the request Harry reached out to unbutton her blouse. She took a step away, "No! No! Rip it off. Hard. Bare me."

Uncertainly Harry clutched the collar of the blouse, as she nodded, and urged, "Yes, just yank it away."

Harry did just that and was surprised at how easily the buttons popped and the blouse fell away. Her breasts blossomed out of a slight bra, which he easily discarded, revealing two globes that pointed their pink tips directly at him. The urge to bury his face between them was strong. But first, the skirt, which, because it was elasticated, dropped away without any bother, and there she was in only skimpy panties through which a hairy tuft was clear.

Sharon had begun heaving at his belt buckle, and as it came free, she unzipped him expertly, pushed her hands down over his buttocks and pushed pants and boxer shorts down. At the crucial moment of freedom his rampant penis came springing free right into her face as she bent. Not the last time that little scenario would take place.

"Holy mother," she gasped, as she gazed at it, "that is some cucumber of a tool. Must have a taster." And without further ado, she grasped his testicles in her hand and wrapped her lips around his erect penis, sliding her face right up to Harry's belly.

Harry felt the penis head strike at the back of her throat, as her tongue worked a magical spell around it. He was wondering how to handle this situation, when, just as suddenly, she released him, stood up, murmuring, "Needs a little sauce" Then she turned away and walked towards the far door, calling over her shoulder, "Just wait there. Don't let yourself droop." Just before she disappeared, into what had to be the bedroom, Harry saw her wriggle out of her panties.

Standing there feeling just a bit spare, and wondering what she would return with, Harry took the opportunity to slip out of his shirt. After just a couple of minutes her voice came, "Right, Harry, come in here."

What he saw when he entered the bedroom, lit by one small bedside lamp, almost stopped his breath.

Sharon, completely naked, lay spread-eagled on the bed. Each wrist was fastened to a bedpost by hand cuffs, and her ankles were held wide apart by silken straps, tied to the bottom of the bed. 

She saw him looking at the handcuffs. "Oh,easy release. A little button that I push against the bedpost. Come on."

He moved to the foot of the bed, and looked in some wonder at what lay before him. He had been with a few naked ladies, but never had they been so wantonly exposed, before any kind of intercourse had taken place.

He might have just stood and drunk in the intoxicating sight of her curvaceous body, her firm breasts only slightly canting to one side, the flat belly and the pubic area, where the hair was more tawny than the blonde on her head. Through that tawny thatch he could make out the fascinating sight of labia slightly parted by the spread of her legs, with a teasing suggestion of pink beyond.

"Hey, that's enough gazing," Sharon called, her voice rising as she demanded, "Are you going to fuck me, suck me, splatter me with cum, or just fucking stare me to death?"

Harry could hardly believe the depth of her language. Women just didn't talk that way, did they? He tried to show some level of control, "Well, it's usually my aim to give a lady the kind of satisfaction they desire. Maybe you should give me a clue as to what will give you pleasure."

The green eyes glared at him, "I've told you. Dirty. I want rough and dirty. Just use your hands and mouth all over my body. No stupid caressing either. I want to be grabbed, squeezed, bitten-hurt. You get it?"

Trying to psyche himself into the mood he would need for this unprecedented situation. Harry climbed alongside Sharon, tried to kiss her, but she turned her head away. "You earn kisses. Get on with it."

As his train pulled into Rander Street station, old Harry closed his eyes and tried to ask himself why, in that weird situation, had he not just said, "Stuff it," and walked out? Well, he hadn't , had he? He had tried to give her what she desired.

The young Harry had gripped tightly on Sharon's upper arms, as he bent to bare his teeth over her breasts, raking them roughly up and down the smooth slopes that he really longed to stroke. He bit on her nipples, not too hard. "Harder," her voice ordered. Harry made a nibbling action over them. His hand scratched over her shoulders, and as he moved his mouth onto her belly, he moved his hands to squeeze tightly on her breasts, and he felt her wince. Was that a sign of success?


Special Stations of the Mind



It was hardest for him when he reached where he always found a woman was smoothest and most velvety, the skin of the inner thigh. So often he had longed to reach that point to savour the promise of it. Now he was pinching and pummelling. But quickly he moved his hand into her pubic zone. Not gently, but with an unfamiliar, pushing and forceful delving.

"Lick me out," she suddenly demanded.

That sounded more favourable to his mind. He trickled his tongue from front to back in that gorgeous valley.

"Harder. Use your teeth. Dig."

God, this was difficult . Her clit was high and erect, and he ploughed his teeth over it. Then his tongue found the glory hole and poked into it.

"For God's sake, get your big cock in there, and do it hard."

Again this was, at least, familiar. Eagerly he pulled himself into position, and ploughed directly into her soaking cavity. Her hips heaved up at him and he was driven right to the hilt. 

"Plough me. Harder."

Now that he could see her face, he saw no image of delight, nothing but .what he could only describe as, greed. But this, he thought, was his chance to really give it to her. He slammed his erection as hard as he could, felt it mash against some deep part inside her. He repeated it again and again. Yet he felt little sign of pleasure from her.

Then her voice came again, "Now, come out of me."

Surprised, Harry thought his efforts were being rejected. He didn't really want to come out.

"Out, I said." God, she was like some angry boss.

Reluctantly, he drew his penis out of her.

"Now slide it over my body, up to my mouth."

Harry couldn't believe this, "But it's all-"

"Just fucking do it, will you?"

Reluctantly he slid himself upwards, feeling his soiled penis gliding over her skin until he was straddled up near her head. 

"In my mouth," she ordered, raising her head, with her mouth wide.

One final attempt at protest, "It'll taste—"

"I know exactly what it'll taste like. Now get it in, grab my hair and force my head onto it. You did say you liked to give a lady what she wanted, didn't you?"

Her mouth grasped greedily at Harry's dripping penis, as he gripped the hair on the back of her head, and pulled her onto him. Harry jerked his hips and could not deny that the sensations that filled him were exquisite. Her tongue somehow, found ways of lashing at his penis, and her head nodded fiercely driving his erection deep into her throat, over and over again. His hand in her hair was hardly necessary, but he pulled at it nevertheless. He was positive that she was deriving more from having him in her mouth than up her vagina.

Occasionally, she twisted her head so that his penis head slid along the inside of her cheeks. Harry was sure that when his pubic hair reached her mouth he had to be halfway down her throat. But then the pulsing in his scrotum started and he knew he was not far off shooting. Was it to be down her throat? 

There was a clicking noise to his right and he saw that her hand was free of the cuff. It quickly moved down onto his buttocks, and even as Harry felt his scrotum about to release, her finger was thrust hard into his anus.

The action was so sudden, so unexpected, that his hips jerked wildly, but at the same time Sharon flung her head to one side so that his penis almost dislodged. A sharp click from the left now and her other hand was grabbing at his penis, dragging it from her mouth . Why? It would-In some horror, Harry felt his stuff flooding down his shaft, and saw it burst forth like an exploding volcano, streaking across her grinning face, onto her eyelids, her nose and up into her hair. At the same time, both her hands pushed at his thighs, and she groaned,"Slide back. Slide back." Thinking his weight must be hurting her too much he wriggled himself down as far as he could, well aware that his orgasmic rush was still flowing. Semen ran in lines across her breasts, like icing on a cake. 

"Up on your knees," she called, while Harry was wondering whether his stuff would ever stop flooding out of him. But he did as instructed, and her hand, still clutching his penis, directed a final couple of gushes to splatter onto her belly.

As his pulsing eased, Sharon struggled up onto her elbows, with that insane grin still on her face. Her hand pulled at his penis, and like some obedient dog, he waddled on his knees towards her snow covered face. She leaned her head forward and licked at the few remaining drops on the purple head of his drooping penis. Then her mouth closed briefly around the head and she gave one final suck, and when she raised her head her green eyes were bright, as she smiled at Harry.

"Good and dirty!" she cried triumphantly.. "That's how I like it." Harry thought she looked like the goddess of all whores, with his abundant semen dripping off her. She added, "You'll get better at the rough stuff."

No, I bloody won't, Harry thought, but said nothing. Within fifteen minutes he was walking the dark streets on his way home.

On the train old Harry found that his head was shaking. Perhaps a sign of the disgust he was feeling, as he considered how weak he had been with the Sharon woman. No doubt there had been high spots, but, for the rest? He closed his eyes to shut it out. 

"Are you all right, mister?"

Startled, Harry opened his eyes, to see a young girl sitting opposite him. "Yes, yes. I'm fine, thank you. Just passing thoughts."

If only she knew what those thoughts had been. Probably think him a dirty old man. Well, wasn't he? Pursuing memories like these.

The train began to slow, and the announcement came," This station is Claver Hill." 

Harry jerked upright. Claver Hill, why hadn't he heard any earlier warning? The luxury houses? He peered out beyond the hoardings, beyond the first row of buildings. Still high class living. Even back then Claver Hill had been the estate where the rich folk lived. When he first bought his car he had taken a drive around this estate to view the grand entrance, the bold frontages, the mansions. It hadn't changed. Old Harry had to admit that this memory had less to do with the station and was more readily recalled from the estate name, Claver Hill..

Younger Harry was twenty four, he had his own flat by then, which he called a love nest, but it was rarely that. He had been generously promoted in his financial work, and was looking for opportunities to start his own advisory business. 

A second or third hand Ford Cortina was a step towards total independence. His experience with women had gathered force, and, just from the comments of his various successes, he was beginning to realise that he was , if not perfect, then a pretty accomplished lover. Oh, God, what an ego, old Harry told himself. 

Lucky to have an above average length penis, was naturally, a help. But he felt he had developed other skills. So it was that, on this particular evening he had driven down to an establishment, about two miles in from the coast. A five star hotel with a lavish bar area that was renowned for its top grade clientele. Would it be possible for him to test himself and see if he could charm a real high class lady? Would his confidence carry him through such a conquest?

On entering the bar, all high chandeliers, velvet drapes and matching furnishings, a stylish lady immediately caught his eyes. She was seated alone at a table near the door. Wearing a black dress, with a lacy jacket over it, she was not exactly beautiful. Her blonde hair was pulled back flat and severe, tied in a tight bun at the back. Her brow was too wide, her lips too pouting yet parted in a slight smile, as her dark eyes returned his gaze. Yes, there was a definite appeal about her. Sadly, there was also a suggestion of sexual unavailability.

Harry approached the bar where he had spotted an old acquaintance alongside an older man, mid to late fifties, greying hair, quite distinguished looking. Harry had known Colin Langer since university, and knew that Colin had inherited his father's bookmaking business, which he had developed and was making a goodly living from.

Colin greeted him warmly, and introduced his companion as Desmond Corven, a diamond dealer. Phew, Harry thought, high class indeed. Maybe he was way out of his league here. However, Corven, seemed a fairly amenable character. Within minutes, Colin was telling Corven how, in their university days, Harry had been popular with the ladies. Harry was just a little annoyed Colin would raise that subject.

However, the diamond dealer leaned towards him, "You could be just the man I'm seeking. Have you had any experience with neurotic women?"

What a strange question, Harry thought, but instantly he recalled his evening with the one called Sharon, from two years earlier, "Some," he said cautiously.

"And I assume you are out tonight hoping for a little adventure?"

"Well, yes, if it happens."

Corven was about to say something, but then looked past him, and sighed, "Ah, she's leaving."

Harry looked and saw the blonde lady in black. Now he could tell she was quite tall, slender and shapely, almost royal in the way she carried herself, as she moved towards the door.

"Do you think I could prevail on you to spend the evening with that lady?"

Harry could not believe what he was hearing. "But how? Why?" 

Corven's eyes looked deeply into Harry's, and Harry noticed what a vivid blue they were. Glancing at Colin, Harry saw his head nodding. "That lady is extremely rich. Sensuous, but has a weird gap in her character. She only accepts incognito situations."

"What do you mean?"

Corven gave a gentle smile and slid from his stool, "Come, I will tell you more as we drive."

A little confused and uncertain, Harry followed the diamond dealer out of the bar, after giving a farewell nod to Colin, who returned a smile, and held up a thumb. Whatever that meant..

Comfortably seated in a top of the range Jaguar, beside Corven, Harry asked, "Where are we going?"

"The lady has a large house in Claver Hill estate. You know it?"

Harry told Corven he knew the estate. then asked about the incognito business.

He saw Corven's face twist, "Sadly, she will only accept a man that she has never met before, and after that night, will never see again. No matter what happens. She should be loved by somebody on a permanent basis, but sadly with this perversity in her nature, this cannot happen. She is my sister, and I'd give anything to see her happy. Her demands are not daily" He paused as he stopped for a red light. "Quite acceptable demands. Maybe once a week, maybe a fortnight. She is no nymphomaniac."

Harry was longing to know if he was really being taken to this mysterious lady. From what he had seen of her, she certainly had allure. Corven stopped the car seemingly in the middle of nowhere, and handed Harry a black blindfold. "I have to ask you to wear this. Must keep her location a secret as your experience can never be repeated."

Harry put on the blindfold, and as the car started again Corven said, "I must advise you that the lady may be very slow to respond, but when she does it can be worth all your patience."

Harry was then aware of the car turning several corners, none of them far apart, so he guessed they were into the estate. At last the car stopped, and Harry was told to remove the blindfold. He found that they were in front of a large front door.

"I'll have the car here by one a,m. Just knock on the door a gentleman will lead you to the relevant room."

The large oak front door opened and a formally dressed, grey haired gentleman welcomed him, and asked him to follow him.

Harry was dumbfounded by the grandeur of the place. Twin chandeliers over the most magnificent entrance hall. The wide central staircase they mounted, was something out of 'Gone With the Wind.' On the first floor, his guide indicated a large pale blue door with gold handles. "Just go in, sir." He said, and slowly walked away.

Tentatively Harry opened the door and entered more splendour. To his right a raised wide bed, with all rich cushions, and silken covers, dominated the room. Carpets under his feet felt about an inch thick as he walked over them. Seductive aromas suffused his brain, and he had never seen so many mirrors. They dominated every wall. Large mirrors on either side of the bed, small mirrors dotted around the walls, where they mingled with what looked like erotic artwork. Seeing his own image all around him was only a little disturbing. 

Without thinking about it, he slipped out of his light jacket and laid it on a chair, just as the lady entered from a doorway in the corner of the room. At first, he thought it wasn't the same lady. She had changed her dress. A pale blue satin full length gown, held by two thin straps over her bare, tanned shoulders, was low cut enough to reveal the teasing glimpse of her rising breasts which pressed against the satin. Her face told him that this was indeed the same lady, with that pouting mouth, and the dark searching eyes. But what struck him maybe more than the exquisite curve of her body in the tight fitting , was her blonde hair. From being tight to her head, it now hung wildly loose framing, and adding much sensuality to her face. It also removed his first impression of a wide forehead.

Had he earlier thought her not beautiful? God, with that dress emphasising every curve of her body, that thick cascade of corn coloured hair framing her face, she was totally stunning. Her lips now blessed him with a gentle smile, Was she really here for him to pleasure?

The thought both thrilled and saddened him. Would it only be one night? He drew a deep nervous breath. Nervous? After all his experience with women? How could he best please her? What was her desire, and could he deliver it.?

Knowing that he was wasting valuable time on just ogling her beauty, Harry took a step forward. Her waist was so slender that it emphasised the push of her breast against the satin. Her skin seemed to glow as he leaned in towards her. Her dark eyes maybe had a faint shine as they regarded his approach. Her lips were moist and slightly parted, and the mysterious aroma from her filled his senses.

Carefully, he placed his lips on the skin of her shoulders, and moved his head over their fascinating curve. How delicate, how soft her skin was. The straps holding up her dress were there, and how he longed to push them aside to allow the dress to drop from her breasts. No, what he longed for was to strip the dress from her completely. To reveal her whole body and its promise of rich, hidden delicacies. But that was not the way with this lady. Her very unresponsiveness was a challenge to his gentility, his amorous skills.

Placing his hands on her satin clad waist, he moved his lips onto hers. Her lips were cool, and she accepted the entry of his tongue without offering her own. Harry remembered what Corven had said, and indeed, her responses were slower than he could have imagined. 

There wasn't one tremble, one reaction as his hands began travelling over her body, the marvellous breasts ,the subtle waist, her amazingly flat belly, all encased in the erotic feel of satin.

She remained cool throughout, and that disregard in her manner drove Harry to greater efforts. His hands moving over her satin clad body, had informed him that underneath that layer there was only hert delicious naked skin. He had never known a woman to remain so unmoved by his intimate ministrations.

They were still standing, and he guided her back to the edge of the bed, and she sat down. Harry knelt, lifted her feet and removed her shoes from her bare feet. He kissed and caressed those delicate feet, his hands moving up her bare legs, so smooth, so sensuous that he wondered how long he could stand the pressure of his own hardness.

Her gown, he discovered was subtly split to the knees, and this helped the passage of his hands along her wonderful thighs. Harry knew he was moving towards the smoothest skin on her whole body. Then he found that her thighs were not parted sufficiently to allow his fingers to make that journey to her softest, warmest, most secret area.

He stood for a moment, looking down at her, and she gave that gentle smile in return. He kissed her, with just sufficient pressure to make her lie back, and as she did her thighs parted slightly. Harry moved his hands all over her body, hoping that somewhere, somehow he would strike a spark. In the whole of their contact not a word had passed between them.

His hands continued to stroke all over her. From her hair down to her feet, and back again. Every part of her should be alight, but there was no sign. On their journey his fingers trailed up over her bare thighs, intending to make contact with her pubic zone, but there was still a tightness in her upper thigh that debarred him.

Kissing her again, he saw that one of the straps of her dress had slipped down her arm. As he reached for it she raised her arm so that the strap was released, and that side of her gown lowered to reveal the wondrous orb of one breast. With his mouth and teeth he pulled the other strap down, and again, she moved her arm to free it. With just a gentle tug he pulled the dress lower to display both her breasts just as he had expected them to be, taut, pink tipped as though she were some adolescent schoolgirl. He kissed and licked both breasts avidly.

Harry thought about squeezing them hard to see if that could rouse any passion in her. But no, he had to maintain his gentle approach. He beginning to think that this was some kind of trick. Had he been given a gorgeous, docile, but frigid woman. An iceberg all of his own for the night? Surely not, the voluptuous lips, the silken skin, the constant promise of sensuality, could not be false.

In the mirrors that seemed to surround them he could see her bare breasts, her thighs slightly parted under her dress, and his own reddened face, as his hands caressed every inch of her.. There was one more step he had to take. The gown had to come off. He needed desperately to lie against her naked skin.

He began to tug the dress down and was pleased to feel her raising her body to assist its passage. And that long awaited body emerged from the gown like some gorgeous butterfly coming from its chrysalis. Immediately Harry was stoking and kissing every inch of her skin. He found her thighs parted sufficiently now for his fingers to dip into the exquisite mystery of her sex. Yet, still, it felt dry and unawakened. Harry had a surge of dismay.

Maybe he could moisten her with his mouth, he thought. Licking his way down her body, he parted her labia, in preparation. But he had to stop just to savour the sensual sight, of her pink folds of flesh, those rose petals of love among the natural blonde pubic hair, that wanted to curl on his willing fingers.. And it was at that moment that he was aware of the first quiver in her body. Her thighs trembled under his hands.

He heard her voice for the first time as she murmured, "Take off your clothes, please." Practically oozing his delight, Harry responded rapidly, pushing all his clothing away, knowing full well what effect his nakedness had had in the past.

And he was not disappointed. First he heard her little gasp. Then he saw her face, mouth slightly open, as she looked at his erect penis which had become so hard that his desire was to touch her labia with his tip. She stopped him. As her hands reached to stroke, she stooped and twisted her body so that she could lick and kiss the large purple head. 

What had triggered her? Was it just a build up of all his caresses? It had seemed that his gazing into her opening had reached something inside her. Now, because she was so avidly licking, fingering and sucking at him down there, he found he had her labia right in his face.




Special Stations of the Mind



Once more he parted those secret enclosing lips, and could see that, magically, the rose petals were dripping. He touched with a finger, the moisture intoxicated him, and then his tongue was tasting her, his nose relishing the aroma of her. More dizzying was the fact that his every touch was achieving some wild reaction from her, whether it was the twitching of her hips, or the sudden spasmic bite of her teeth on his penis.

Without taking him in totally she was lavishing wild attention to his penis and scrotum, her fingers squeezing gently on his balls, Harry, as he licked at her risen clitoris, knew he didn't want to spoil the total conclusion by spilling into her face. More than anything now, his one desire was to shoot up into her womb, to get up as far as was humanly possible. 

Consequently he forced her away from his penis. But they had both become so avid with their mouths on each other that they continued mouthing over each other's bodies, sucking, licking and gently biting, while their hands explored other nooks. At one point, they even each had a finger in the opening to the others anus. And they both laughed. Such was their involvement.

At last she lay back flat, put her two hands between her legs and parted her labia. There was a lascivious smile on her face, and her eyes appeared clouded with passion as she said, "Inside me. Now, please." 

Believing that she, like him, could no longer wait, Harry guided his seriously stiff member into that de-luxe opening. The glide up inside her was beyond belief, and he could feel her vaginal muscles sucking him deep. Yet, another surprise, once inside her, where he had longed to be, he found himself enjoying the sensations provided by her eager vagina, and jerking hips that he didn't want it to end. His movements became long and slow, and she did not appear to mind the slowing of pace. Her mouth nuzzled his ear as she whispered, "How lovely, just to have you enclosed within me"

So calm was their movement that she gave time to indicate their reflections in the mirror. Harry saw their naked bodies sealed together, but even as he looked, her hips began twitching more frantically, and she cried, "Oh, God, I'm burning up. Work it."

Before he could do or say anything she had eased him to one side without breaking their contact, and was sitting astride him, skewering herself on his huge erection, which Harry knew was not far from bursting. Her hands on his shoulders, her eyes on his face, her face gradually contorting, she began gyrating her hips so that Harry could sense every inch of her vagina. He had to explode, but knew he wouldn't get the deep, deep thrust that this ejaculation demanded. But that was the moment that the lady's control snapped, her head was thrown back and she gave an extended gurgled 'Oh' of release , as her hands slid down his chest. That was Harry's chance to twist her over onto her back, to float over her, and thrust, thrust, and thrust again, ever deeper as, with each impulse, his penis spurted an ever greater surge of his semen, aimed for the very heart of her. His groan mingled with her continued but dwindling 'Oh' vocalisations. 

Before collapsing with his face on her shoulder, he saw the wide eyed look of pleasure on her sweated face, with strands of her blonde hair across it.

They lay quiet, no talking, no movement until his limp penis at last slipped out of her, and she reached for a towel that was laid ready on a bedside table. She placed the towel between her thighs, wiped, before sitting up, and taking hold of his penis with the towel, gripped and flexed her fingers.

"It was good," she murmured, and lay back beside him. They just lay there, but their hands seemed to find it difficult to stop stroking and fingering each other. Harry was expecting the session to be drawn to a close. He thought she might eventually rise, collect her clothes and move off. But that didn't happen. Their touching and stroking extended into kissing and nibbling, their lips came together and their tongues tangled, and it was all very quiet and refined.

Her fingers tickling along his penis length had him realising that his erection was returning. He eased to reach down and touch at her labia, they parted readily, and there was much moisture. From their last endeavours? Or was it really a renewed desire? 

In response to that thought, her fingers tightened around his penis, and as they faced each other lying on their sides, she lifted one bent leg away to spread herself, and slowly, deliberately she guided him back to her waiting vagina. Harry was taken with both surprise and delight. He heaved his hips to drive his penis into her as he gently laid her on her back, where she raised her legs and wrapped them around him, so that she could reveal her desire to pull him more deeply into her. 

With his hard penis enveloped inside her, Harry could have remained in that position all night. She kissed his face, as a very slow, rapturous rhythm began between them. Her hips moved in time with his. They were like that for a very long, rapturous time. Slow glide after slow glide. Pure pleasure. Then suddenly the rhythm increased, became more frantic. Her need? His longing? It didn't matter, they were rushing towards another climax together. When hers came, with that same open mouthed gurgled 'Oh', Harry wasn't far behind, and pushed hard against her cervix, to ensure whatever fluid he had left flooded into her.

And the exquisite moment was over. At the bedroom door she stood, naked, and kissed him on the lips. No names were exchanged, no offer of a return. As he closed the door behind him, he heard her final whisper, "I won't forget that magnificent penis "

That filled him with regret as much as pride. The car was there for him, and there were no questions or comments from Corven, as he drove him back to his own car. 

Old Harry's eyes looked out at the passing houses. That had been such a beautiful one-off time, He could almost see that look in her eyes again, but, damn it, memory didn't just stop when you wanted it. There was another portion of that affair that he would have happily ducked away from—but no, it persisted. Harry sighed and gave in to it-

Just a few days after his blissful hours with that rich, passionate lady, Colin Langer rang him requesting the met in a local pub that night. Was it to be another erotic outing? As it turned out, no, it wasn't. Colin was smiling as they sat with their drinks at a quiet table. Before pushing a bundle of ten pound notes across the table. "Your percentage." Colin said, giving Harry a nod.

"What do you mean?"

"There are things you need to know," Colin said, and held up an open palmed hand. "First, the lady you were with the other night was Corven's wife."

"His wife? What the hell-? He said—"

"It doesn't matter what he said. You see he loves her madly, but an illness rendered him totally impotent a few years ago. He knew his wife had passions that rose to the surface slowly. At first he agreed that she could have other men, but he was the one who made the stipulation of no man twice. It was never her affliction. Corven always had time to find a man that met with his approval."

Harry could only just come to terms with this, "He said she was his sister."

"Would you have gone through with it if he'd said she was his wife?" Colin paused, his eyes on Harry's face, "And that he demanded to watch each time she had someone?"

Harry almost jumped out of his seat, "What? He was watching? Watching everything?" He thought of her mouth on his erection.

Colin nodded, "That's not all, Harry." And now his face took on a look that told Harry worse was to come.

"You must remember they loved each other deeply, and believed that some good should come from the situation. Corven had a hand in many charities and-to cut this short- when he watched, he charged others for the same privilege."

Harry felt as though his body was going to crumble. His mouth was too dry for him to speak.

"He charged two hundred per session. All proceeds to a charity. But the one night stand always got a cut, depending how much he pleased her."

His thought of the pleasure of that night were in tatters. He had put on a sex show, for -"How many watched?"

"Six."

Harry could not believe he had been so duped. How real had her responses been? "If it is any consolation I've nev er known Corven pay out 200 before. Seems you really rang her bell." 

Harry leapt his feet, "Give him his fucking money back. "And , despite the balm of knowing her reactions, he stalked out, ashamed and angry. When he spoke to his friend Bill Sanders about it, he skipped the hurtful bit, and was told,"If she was that good why didn't you seek her out?."

"She was married.".

"Never stopped me." No, it wouldn't Harry thought.

On his train, old Harry was feeling just as angry. Why couldn't memory stop at the right places? With one more station on his list, Harry weighed up all the exotic recall he had experienced. A little sad smile crossed his face—as he though of the different tributes paid to his erect penis-'glorious cock', 'cucumber', 'magnificent '—a silent chuckle made his chest hurt as he thought, if only those ladies could see that shrivelled wasted little item now. But this journey had reminded of the most extreme of his sexual experiences, and next would be the one that contained what none of the others had-lov e.

"The next station will be Barsea. Alight here for the beach and promenade."

Here it came. The most precious recall, yet it could be the most hurtful. Old Harry closed his eyes. just those early weeks, please. All he wanted was one little element from it. But there were so many other joys that he didn't need to be reminded of. And there was the pain.

Harry was twenty eight, and had only just opened his own financial advisory business. So far things had gone very well and he had bought himself a house, and a low mileage BMW. On that chill February day he was having his car serviced at a garage he had used since his first car.

The garage was adjacent to a local station and Harry, being told the job would take four hours, decided, despite the weather, or maybe because of it, to take a rare trip to the sea front. He had always loved watching a wild sea. The day could be right for that. As an afterthought seeing the leaden sky he took his umbrella from the car.

The journey to Barsea only took ten minutes, and when he left the train the sky looked even more glowering. At the sea front he was struck by the cool wind , and, pulling his anorak zip up to his neck, he decided to try the lower promenade. It might be a more sheltered. Such small choices can have major affects on a life. 

The wind was no less biting, but there was a superb view of the stormy sea, throwing itself on rocks and shore. The promenade was deserted, only one lone figure in the distance. No one was taking shelter in the first covered seating area. As he neared the next shelter, he had a closer view of what looked like an old woman, a hood pulled over her head, hunched over the rail, looking out at the sea. Brave lady, Harry thought.

At that moment, a large drop of rain splashed on the paving in front of him. Then another, and another. A downpour was surely imminent. Rather than struggle with the umbrella at this time, Harry made a dash for the shelter. As he ran, he saw, with some surprise that the hooded figure was also scuttling swiftly, and rather athletically to the same shelter. Hardly the movement of an old woman. 

Just as he ran under the cover, the other occupant was pushing the hood from her head, and Harry's breath caught in his throat. Under the tangle of raven black hair, was-well, he'd had many encounters with the opposite sex, but this face would have stood out among any of them. High cheek bones, a generous mouth, dark eyes that, Harry thought, looked to be red rimmed. Had she been crying? That did not change his opinion that she was utterly beautiful.

Her face now looked at him with just a touch of worry. Harry could see how she could regard herself as being in a vulnerable situation, so he gave her a reassuring smile and said, "Phew, just made it."

She nodded, without replying, but she did return a weak response to his smile, before turning away. After a period of silence as the rain made its own waves along the promenade, Harry ventured, "I love seeing the sea like this, do you?"

"Yes."

Nothing more than that. Clearly the lady had no wish for conversation. Harry concentrated on the anger of the sea, while the rain continued to splash down, but it was difficult for him to dismiss that face from his mind.

After a while, the lady stood, walked to the shelter edge, looked up and down the promenade, and glanced at her watch. The rain had eased a little, but was still falling heavily.

"Someone not turned up?" Harry asked.

That lovely face turned to him, brow creased as though about to tell him to mind his own business, but she said, "No, I was wanting to get to the station. Looks like I'll have to get wet."

A chance. A glorious chance, Harry enthused, and he said, "I have to get to the station too. Can I offer you shelter under my trusty umbrella?"

"Oh, I couldn't."

But it didn't take much more persuasion, and soon they were dodging the puddles together, the wide umbrella over them, and the lady close by his side. On the two hundred yards to the station they exchanged names. She was Helen, and Harry found the temerity to say that he thought she'd looked upset back in the shelter.

"I was," she admitted," I was being stupid."

She offered no more on the subject at that time, but just before the train appeared, she said quietly, "You were right. I had been crying. "And her eyes met his as she added, "The man I was living with has taken off to Paris." She bit her lip and just for a moment Harry thought she was going to cry again. "Wants to make a fresh start- "and with surprising vehemence added,"—the bastard."

"That attitude will do you the world of good," Harry told her, giving her a smile which he hoped was comforting. "And, may I say, he must be crazy." .

She rewarded him with a smile of gratitude.

Harry was happy when she chose to sit next to him on the train, and he got round to telling her about his financial advisory company, and asked her what she did.

She glanced out of the window, "My stop," she said, getting to her feet, before starting to answer, and Harry heard, "I'm a farm-"At that moment the train gave a violent jerk and a man stumbled against Helen, almost knocking her over. He apologised and moved on.

Helen turned to say her farewell, and Harry was ready. "Could I see you again, sometime?"

Her her head shook as she said, "I don't think I'm in the mood for anything at the moment." A sad smile of apology as she added, I don't think I trust men." The carriage door opened.

He already had his new business card in his hand. He held it out to her. "My home phone number is on there if you ever want to break from the norm."

She took it, and with a final thank you, she was gone. Leaving Harry wishing he had got off the train with her.

For a full week every time his phone rang he hoped it would be her. It never was, and life went on as usual, onlyher face appeared whenever he closed his eyes. Dark eyes and raven hair, had he ever been so captivated? He just couldn't imagine such a beauty working on a farm. Maybe she was a farm inspector. Her answer had been interrupted he remembered.

Six days after their meeting, Harry, having just finished his evening meal answered the phone, and his heart leapt when a gently uncertain female voice said, "It's Helen."

Even while he was dancing cartwheels in his mind, he couldn't resist a little tease, "Helen who?"

"Helen under the umbrella."

"I'm taking your advice and trying to get away from the norm."

"Good choice. I'm miles from the norm." And he was delightged to hear her little laugh. Within minutes they had arranged to meet on the following evening, and Harry said he would pick her up at seven, and they'd go for a meal. "If only I knew where you lived," he added in a sad tone.

He warned himself that he would need to take things very cautiously if he didn't want to scare this one away.. She had obviously come through a pretty traumatic time, yet seemed keen to come out of it. Why should he be this bothered. She was just another woman, wasn't she?

That first evening went as well as he might have hoped. Having only seen her in a thick winter coat, when she removed her coat in the restaurant he found himself looking at a lady who filled her sweater in the right proportions to her trim waist and rounded hips. She was utterly delectable. They had a few laughs in discovering that they had similar tastes in books and film. The highlight came when he asked her about her farm work, "Do you actually own the farm?" It already seemed odd that she would live so far from any farms.

For just a moment she looked puzzled, then out burst that tinkling laugh. "You could say I farm assist."

Slow on the uptake, Harry asked, "You only assist."

She smiled at him with a forgiving smile, "Harry, I am a pharmacist."

Their mutual laughter had folk at other table looking around. When he drove her home to her door, he expected nothing, and that was all he got. She thanked him, but did agree to meet again in three days time. 

Harry courted Helen for three months, recognising that this was a major diversion in his usual lifestyle. His initial caution was so deliberate that it was the third week before he attempted giving her a 'goodnight' kiss. Her lips were keen, but cool on his, and when the kiss broke, her eyes had held his in an unfathomable gaze. But Harry found everything about his behaviour way out of step with his usual approach to women.

It was the night after that kiss that Bill Sanders rang for their usual comparing of sexual successes. After regaling Harry with a tale of the current 'lucky girl', '"God, she has few inhibitions. No check that-no inhibitions. What about you?"

Harry knew how this would go when he told his friend about Helen. 

"Hot, is she?"

"I don't know."

"I mean, is she adventurous in bed?"

"Haven't been to bed with her." And Harry went on to admit that last night had been their first kiss.

"You're joking. Three weeks and you haven't had her? Have you seen a doctor."

When Harry told him he didn't need one, the response was, "A psychiatrist then? Because, my friend, I fear you are in trouble.".

Shortly after that, kissing Helen became more prolonged and their tongues got to know each other. Yet Harry was so desperate not to bring her any hurt, he delayed pushing it any further, desperate as he was to possess every inch of her. Was his friend correct? Was he in trouble?

On a couple of evenings into their second month of seeing each other she invited him into her well set up home, for which, he had learned, she had done most of the funding, so that when Vic, that was his name, took off, there was no question of who kept the house. On those evenings they simply had a coffee, and Helen promised that she would invite him for a meal soon.

Those evenings also took them a step further, as he tentatively moved a hand over a bloused breast, and she did not protest, clung closer in fact, her hands moving on his back. For Harry, those hands, were like two large electrodes sending charges through his shirt. He could not believe how nervous he was about offending her by forcing the issue. This was a totally new situation. Up until this time his consideration had always been how quickly he could get his hand travelling up a girl's thigh.

Then came the evening, when Helen by her words and actions, finally led Harry to make the commitment that he knew he had hidden nervously in the back of his mind for some time. Their kisses had been passionate, when Harry became aware of Helen unbuttoning the buttons on her own blouse, before taking his hand and guiding it inside. An action so reminiscent of the lady on the train when he was just nineteen. But Harry was determined that this was to be no one-off. Overjoyed to find there was no bra, his hand roamed onto the sensually curved softness which was just as he'd suspected it would be.. The brown of her nipples were a surprise and he was debating whether he dare take one in his mouth, when Helen broke the kiss,and stared up at him with smoky eyes.