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You Got a Friend Ch. 01

By: 13932956



The conference was a waste of time and the small town hotel not up to much. I had planned to spend the evening working on my MBA thesis. But the internet connection in my room wasn't working. Fed up I drifted out into what passed for a High Street. After a couple of pubs, each with two old men and a dog, I was about to give up. Then I heard music. Down a side street I found the Rose and Crown. It looked a bit of a dive. But the doorman sensed a customer and said "Grab a granny night. Only two fifty before ten thirty, mate."

"Are there many in?" I asked, sceptical.

"Yeah it's packed," he said and pushed open the door to show me. He was right and I paid my money. A dive it was with sticky carpets, stained walls, dim lights and warm beer. But I had no better ideas so I bought a pint and listlessly cased the joint. The crowd was what you'd expect, dole fodder guys and scrubbers with too much make up and no dress sense.

But I had timed it right. The DJ put on some old Motown. He knew his audience and the sound system was good. The floor filled up and my foot started to tap. I became aware of a group of women eying me up and giggling. I tried to ignore them but soon one of them came over. I was aware of heavy mascara, a very short black leather skirt and laddered tights. "Me mate fancies you," she said, beckoning towards her group.

"Oh come on. Try another one," I said bored. 

She gave me a bit more banter but soon switched her sights to a group of three guys propping up the bar. I thought nothing more of it until it was my turn to go to the bar for a refill. One of those guys stood next to me. "You on your own? Come on over and join us," he said. He sounded sincere and it seemed churlish to refuse so I did.

I soon realised why he'd asked. There were four women and three guys. The other guys were busy making out and didn't want to have to buy drinks for a spare bird. She moved her handbag off the cheap green vinyl bench. I accepted the invitation and sat next to her. In their eyes she must have been the least attractive. Certainly she was the least tarty. She wore very little make up, her hair was natural, dark brown, long and wavy and she had a nice smile with full rosy lips and white even teeth. Three plus points already. But she was more than plump and the wrong side of thirty, wearing a white top and a simple cotton print skirt. But I wasn't looking to pull and she wasn't trying to cadge drinks. Rather she was good company, lively and chatty. 

It seemed I had known Mary for a long time. Then the DJ dimmed the lights and put on The Brand New Heavies "You've Got a Friend."  She leaned over and whispered in my ear. "I love this song." I don't remember asking her to dance. It just happened. She was a surprisingly good dancer, light on her feet for a big girl and with a natural rhythm. She was taller than I had first thought and as the singer crooned about finding a friend in times of trouble our eyes met naturally. Hers were brown with flecks of green, natural lashes and a suggestive sparkle. Despite my glasses she said my grey pair were beautiful. Untrue but flattering and flattery gets you everywhere as she well knew. I put my arm round her shoulder and felt the warmth and ampleness of her. "It's all right. I won't break, Steve," she said and eased closer. My other arm slipped round her and we started to smooch. Now that's not something I make a habit of with a chubby, thirty something woman. After all I have never been short of lissom, young female companions. Marketing managers of a successful boutique chain rarely are.

Actually she didn't feel bad at all. Her top was thin and my right hand discovered that her body was warm but not sweaty. She had a roly poly waist but her flesh was yielding. There wasn't much underwear to get in the way and she seemed to like the pressure of my exploring fingers. Meanwhile my left hand explored her hair. She had used a nice apple scented shampoo and liked to be stroked and caressed, snuggling against my body as I did so.

Mary's hands were those of a country girl. She had been born on a farm and had spent the last few years working in the local vegetable packing factory. They were big and practical but she used conditioner and they were surprisingly gentle and sensually appreciating. I'm not handsome but I'm tallish, lean and I like to think fit and she seemed to enjoy the hardness of my shoulders, belly and chest.

We only had one dance that night before all hell broke lose near the door. The three guys got into a fight with a rival group. The bouncers and then the cops piled in. The DJ pulled the plug and Mary went to look for her workmates. They were nowhere to be seen.

"How are you getting home?" I asked, looking along the deserted High Street for a taxi.

"Walk I suppose," she sighed.

"Is it far? This looks a bit iffy to me. Those head bangers could still be hanging around. I'd better come with you."

She didn't argue but gave me a sweet, trusting look. "If we cut across the allotments it is not too far," she said and led the way. She was in no hurry and neither was I. It was a warm May night and peaceful away from the main road and streetlights. I felt the tension from the fight ebbing out of us both. The allotments were disused and it was also lonely. We might have been only twenty miles from Sheffield but out there it was like being in another world and time. Clouds scudded across the moon in the strengthening wind creating moments of pale yellow light and spooky shadows of trees interspersed with intervals of total darkness. 

Protectively I touched her hand and she stopped, took mine in between both of hers, half turning towards me. Surprised and not sure if this suggested flattering trust or rural naivety I asked her, "Aren't you scared? I mean, I could do anything to you out here."

She considered for a minute then said "Yeah maybe. But it is nice to feel a strong man near me again."  She didn't elaborate and I wasn't inclined to pry into her past. So we ambled on arm in arm. Her broad hip rubbing against mine was pleasant. But the going wasn't. There were a lot of brambles, nettles and roots hidden in the undergrowth and overhanging tree branches to scratch the unwary in the pitch dark intervals.

A twig gave me a sharp scratch on the cheek and I swore. There was genuine concern in Mary's voice as she asked, "Are you OK, Steve?"

"It's nothing," I said, "Just a scratch."  But she still felt obliged to kiss my injured cheek better. I took her face in my hands gently. Her complexion was a little weather beaten but I liked the warm flush that came to her cheeks as my eyes looked into hers and my mouth approached her lips slowly, asking for permission.

She gave it. Her lips were full and warm and tasted slightly of the rum and coke she had been drinking. Despite her size there was nothing rough or clumsy about her kissing and our mouths melted together. She rationed me to just her lips, no tongues, but it was still exciting and I felt a stiffness in my trousers. So did Mary and it made her draw back and carry on towards the safety of home.

When we came to the barbed wire fence I climbed over easily and walked on then realised she wasn't behind me. "Help me, Paul," I heard her say in a small, embarrassed voice.

Her skirt had caught on the wire. The moon chose that moment to go behind a cloud and I could only squat beside her and fumble in the dark. I found her skirt, waist high and caught next to her thigh. I freed it successfully but I needed to be careful not to tear it. As a result my face was inside for long enough to catch her warm, female scent. I succumbed to temptation and gave her thigh a little stroke, with my fingertips on the outside at first. It was so big, but bare, astonishingly firm, warm, and smooth; womanly and comforting. I had to curl my whole hand round and caressed the inside, fingers pointing up, seeking.

Mary didn't flinch and said nothing but the wind suddenly died away and I heard her breathing quicken. Not certain what that portended I stepped back. "I'm sorry," I told her. "I shouldn't take advantage."

The moon shed new light. Suddenly I was looking at her sweeties at close range. They were cute, lacy, fresh, and white, far too small and let her big, flushed, pink fanny lips peep around them. "Don't be sorry," she whispered and buried my face in her panties, swaying her hips and moving her shaved mound and vulva around my nose and mouth. She smelt of lavender fabric softener and the buttery beginnings of arousal. 

I couldn't get my hands in; she was holding my face so tight and her bum was tight against a fence post. So I eased her panties aside with my teeth and licked. A triangular fold of skin at the front of her pussy seemed to give her particular pleasure. Each time I moved away from it she would whisper in a husky voice "Go left," or "Go right," until I found the G spot again.  It had the sweetest taste and eventually I concentrated there licking round the edge then flicking my tongue between the folds. This seemed to drive her crazy. She grabbed my hair and ruffled it affectionately as well as slowly gyrating her hips. Finally her clit hood curled back and a pink button popped out. The first touch was so sensitive that she let out a long low moan. The sound of her pleasure was so horny that I had to take my own cock out before it split my trousers. She knew what I was doing and released me. 

The moon goddess was on our side that night. When I looked around gasping for air her pale yellow illuminated an old greenhouse. By telepathy we agreed to go inside and the moon goddess stayed to watch. Gently I unzipped her skirt and peeled down her damp panties. She flopped down onto a pile of old sacks and spread herself wide, breathing quickly and urging me to hurry.

Her long deeply furrowed pussy might as well have had a sign on it saying "Emergency entrance". But I took my time. First I carefully hung her discarded clothes over a tomato plant before undressing in front of her. I wanted to enjoy her frank interest as she lay in the moonlight looking up. She took in my well muscled, slightly hairy chest, firm biceps and trim waist and glowed with excitement. By the time I put my thumbs in the elastic of my underpants her tongue was hanging out. Still I teased her dancing like a gigolo as I stripped my briefs off. She was so desperate she moved her hand between her legs to release her own need. At that I lay assertively on top of her and replaced fingers with cock. She wrapped her thighs around me as I gently began exploring her pussy. It was too snug to have ever given birth and the slippery, flexible walls were in exciting contrast to my rock hardness and pulsating glands. Her muscles held me possessively and stopped me going all the way in straight away. 

I thought she wanted to savour this. That was fine by me. I needed time to adjust to the sensation of riding a woman whose belly was like a roller coaster and whose bum and thighs were so thick that I was almost kneeling to rest my calves on the ground. But we did adjust and found a lovely slow rhythm. My nuzzling kisses on her neck were met with long, slow sweeps of her fingertips down my spine. The feeling was one of incredible contentment. 

But nature wanted out and I became more urgent, thrusting harder and faster and raising myself into a press up position to get more leverage to penetrate her deeper. She knew I was about to cum and hissed, "No, Steve, no babies," and pushed me decisively up and out. 

My manhood deflated and I guessed that was it. Then frustration took over. I felt I had been led on and for a few seconds I was angry. I felt my power and wanted to dive back down on her and show her who was boss. 

It was one of those moments that could have gone either way; to jail for rape or to bliss later. I can't explain it except to say that I have never forced myself on a woman. I was brought up that way. If they let me know they want it I get turned on and am happy to oblige but....  . As the chill night air hit me reason returned and I had to admit to myself that I hadn't thought about contraception but just assumed that she was protected as she had come on so strong. 

Still angry, but by now as much with myself for getting into a beginners mess, as with her I snatched up my clothes and started to dress. I finished without glancing at her and got to the doorway. But I didn't stomp out. There was something about her that I still liked and respected despite what she had just done and I didn't want things to end this way.

She was sitting on an old pink plastic stool looking at me. Her expression told me that she was trying to read my body language to guess what was coming next. She took a deep, audible breath and shook out her hair. The wild look of fear left her eyes and she said quietly, "Thanks, Steve." 

Then to show that she sympathised with my disappointment she lifted her top. She had saved the best till last!

I suppose I had assumed that a big girl's bra would be formidable. Actually, it was snow white and almost sheer. There were no wires and the elastic outlined her big breasts as nature made them. They sagged a bit but her nipples were huge and dark, standing up and thrusting. The effect was pure elemental woman. I gasped and stood still in front of her. 

She misunderstood my surprise for revulsion. "Nobody likes my boobs," she said resignedly dropping her bunched top back down.

"Mary, that's crazy. They're beautiful," I murmured softly and reached for her. Her bra was so thin I could feel all the warmth of her. I popped one breast out for more but she flinched. "I'm sorry, darling," was all she could say then, after a pause, she added. "It's me. I'm not used to them being touched. Just go slowly, Steve."

It was a learning experience for both of us. Never have I experienced anything so full of the promise of womanhood as that half hour kneeling in front of her fondling, cupping kissing and licking those two beauties. 

But inevitably my attention turned again to my throbbing cock. She knew it and, quite relaxed now, took my hands and lifted, prompting me to stand up.  Sheer instinct took my cock to her cleavage and she folded the softness of her breasts round it. 

There she froze. The feeling was nice for a moment. But the friction was irritating as I tried to slide up and down. By now the night wasn't very warm. She hadn't been sweating and her cleavage was dry. She didn't seem to know what to do. I eased out, reached into her pussy and took two fingerfuls of her thick, milky cum. Slowly I spread her breasts apart and lubricated her. She giggled and said, "So that's how it's done." 

I realised that she was a boob virgin. But I replaced my cock and guided her with my hands until she was ululating her melons up and down and round and round my shaft. The sensation was more intense than any pussy. I throbbed like a pneumatic drill and I could see my own tip peeping out of the top of her valley, purple and the crack half open like a serpent's mouth. Several times I almost burst but held on. Her eyes were rolling, two fingers were deep in her own pussy and she was literally panting. 

I wanted us to climax together and oh my God did we! I felt a shiver begin to run through her whole body, I let myself off the leash; she emitted a long low cry "Yesssssssssss," and I drowned her in sperm.

It took nearly an hour of holding and cuddling before the glow she described in her belly subsided and her jellied legs had regained the strength to carry her home. I too was shattered and it took a good ten minutes to make the 100 metres to her back gate. But I didn't care. I never wanted the night to end.

Before saying goodnight she confessed "That was my first orgasm, Steve."

"And my first BBW," I replied. 

"Now I know what all the fuss is about," we said in unison, laughing with the relief of a barrier crossed.

The night receptionist at the hotel gave me a suspicious look when I wandered in at 4.30am, assuredly smelling of sex. But I didn't care. I knew that next time I was in the area I wouldn't be staying at the Mount Pleasant.

You Got a Friend Ch. 02



Chapter 2: Thanks to the Sat Nav

The Tinsley viaduct was closed southbound, the Radio 5 Live announcer said. 

"Damn," I thought.  But it happens regularly so I just switched on the Sat Nav and let it find me a back way, round Sheffield over the moors to the west. It's a lengthy diversion but still quicker than sitting waiting for a major foul up on the M1 to be cleared. Anyway it is a pleasant route on a mild autumn afternoon and being Friday and the end of my work week I had no particular time pressure.

It wasn't until I was driving through a small town that something looked familiar. Suddenly I remembered that this was where we had the abortive marketing conference last June and where I had met Mary.

We had chatted by e mail and MSN a few times but I was busy, her computer skills were limited and neither of us was sure what, if anything, we wanted to develop. In short nothing quite clicked and the friendship had fizzled out after a few weeks.

But she had been friendly and accommodating; up to a point. On the spur of the moment I turned right. I didn't have a full address but it wasn't difficult to find her street. Finding the exact house was more of a problem. We had come over the derelict allotments at the back and it was pitch dark when I left her at the back gate. I had never seen the front of the house.

But I found an alleyway that led round the back of the row of 1930s council semis and thought I had identified Mary's. I was wrong. When I knocked at the battered back door a taller, slimmer woman answered.  

In my line of work I have been in too many awkward situations to be embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I think I've got the wrong house. I'm looking for Mary," I explained politely but confidently. My aplomb seemed to offend her at first. She was going to slam the door but then recognition dawned in her eyes. "You're the bloke what got off with her in the Rose n' Crown that time, ain't yer?" Her voice placed her. The brassy tart who worked with Mary and had introduced us then left us in the lurch when her boyfriend got into a scrap.

Bingo! That meant she must know Mary and presumably where she lived. I confirmed that I was Steve. 

She asked me in to her scruffy, untidy living room and offered me tea in a chipped, stained mug. She sat next to me, far too close for a casual acquaintance, on her saggy old sofa, asked me for a fag and when I didn't have one lit her own, crossed her legs and let her short red skirt ride a long way up her laddered black stockings.

Maybe this wasn't going to be such a good idea, I thought to myself. To her I explained that I was just passing through but if it was inconvenient, or Mary didn't want to see me again, then no hard feelings.

What might have happened if her kids hadn't burst in after school who knows? But they did.  

"Mary's on days this week." Her friend said. "She'll be back any minute. It's number twenty three if you want to hang around. She'd luv to see ya again."  

It didn't sound like she either knew or cared if this was true and it was said to get rid of me before the kids started asking questions. So I was getting into the car to go on home when I saw Mary coming down the street. OK so the first part was true, I realised. It was time to find out about the second bit. "Hi, Mary" I said cheerfully trying to sound casual. "Remember me?"

She was miles away and took a minute to collect her thoughts. That gave me an opportunity to take stock. She obviously had come straight from work as she was still wearing her pink and white checked, button fronted overall. It didn't flatter her tubby, buxom figure. But I was also aware that she still had the thick, soft, dark brown tresses that I had so enjoyed, a fresh natural complexion and, what a relief, a beaming smile. 

"Come on in and tell me what you are doing here," she said. Her home was a pleasant contrast to her friend's. There was a neat, colourful front garden and inside everything reflected her personality; un-pretentious but clean, fresh and homely.

We sat side by side on her sofa. It was old but comfortable with a nice floral print throw over it. She didn't crowd me or come on strong but still made me feel welcome with a cup of tea and chocolate biscuits.  "You know I'm fat so I'm going to enjoy them," she said tucking into the latter. She was lively and easy to talk to about everyday things and I began to relax

"I'll bet your hungry, aren't you after all that business?" she said. I'll pop something in the oven for us then I'll go up and change. That OK?"

I agreed and watched through the archway as she bustled about in the kitchen. She had a country girl's practicality and it didn't take long to make a shepherds pie. "Come on up and we can talk while I get ready," she said on her way upstairs.

She went into the bathroom to strip off and shower leaving me sitting on her bed. She left the door open and carried on chatting. But she had made it clear last time that she set the limits and I wasn't going into the bathroom unless invited. 

I was curious and couldn't help nosing around. The room was neat and feminine with a big double bed and a pine suite. The only photo was of elderly parents on the bedside table. There was no evidence of a boyfriend or children. I began carefully to ask about her background. 

Her father had died of cancer years ago when she was a teenager. I could sympathise with that. I had been through the same thing and knew the hole it leaves. Having that much in common brought us closer. Her mother had lived with Mary until her death last Christmas. That explained the size of the house. It was also a point of difference. Mary had been close to her mother. I never was. In fact we hadn't spoken for over 20 years before her death. I had hoped to resolve the issues before her passing but the end came suddenly when I was abroad on a business trip and we never were reconciled. Why I told Mary this when I have never discussed it with anyone else I don't know. Perhaps it was because she was a good listener or perhaps we were both just lonely and working our way towards each other.

She came out of the bathroom fully dressed, somewhat to my disappointment. 

"Why didn't you come in?" she asked blushing a little at the nerve of her own suggestion.

I decided to confront the issue head on because I respected her essential honesty. "I didn't want to assume anything." I explained. "Last time you set the limits, remember?"

"Oh Steve. I'm sorry about that. Really I am. You were great. Most guys would have gone on regardless. It was my fault.  I shouldn't have led you on. I'd had a few and it was so romantic out in the open. I guess I got carried away. It felt so good but I don't want a baby. I'm not daft. I've seen enough gals get caught with a kid on their own round here. Look at June. She was pretty once but she's got three. None of the dads stopped with her and look at her now. What chance have I got?" She finished, her voice tailing off, and looking at herself in the dressing table mirror and brushing her beautiful hair in long, sweeping, defiant strokes. 

"Thanks for being straight with me, Mary," I told her. "I know where you are coming from. Anyway it wasn't your fault. I wanted you. Come to that I want you again. You look great."

She blushingly denied this. But actually she did. She had chosen a black skirt, quite tight and quite short but not tarty and a simple lilac sleeveless woollen top.

Embarrassed by my appraisal she told me "Something smells good. Let's eat."

"Sounds good to me then we'll see what happens eh!" I said with a wink.

I was really hungry and she was a great cook but my mind soon returned to other things especially when she suggested going to the woods for a stroll. She wanted to take advantage of me having a car but I didn't mind. It was a lovely spot and brought back welcome memories, her warm, comfortable roly poly waist under my arm, her hand big and calloused from the vegetables she packed all day but still somehow gentle, our hips touching with an intimacy that suggested few layers of clothing and the fresh scent of her hair. 

She liked flowers and stopped to pick many wild ones, sometimes going off the path and into the bushes in search of rarer specimens. We were squatting side by side under a tree in a little clearing when I found some wild blackberries hidden in the undergrowth. "Hey look at these," I called to her. 

Mary turned quickly  She had so little experience with boyfriends that she knew no other way to start things off than a knicker flash. Last time had been an accident but this seemed more deliberate judging by her choice of underwear.  She already knew I liked lavender. That scent in her white cuties had first turned me on last time.  Anyway I could clearly see lavender skimpy lace panties clinging suggestively to the curves of her front.  She was smooth like last time and I wondered if she would look and taste the same too. 

"Déjà vu," I said. She tittered nervously, stood up and made her way back to the path and the car perhaps ashamed that I had seen through her artifice so quickly.

On the way home we stopped at an off licence. She refused wine or lager saying she was nervous of loosing control. We settled for fruit juice and chocolate and I managed to slip a packet of Durex into the pile without her noticing.  Back home she reached again into her limited repertoire and put some smoochie music on. I didn't mind. Our tastes were similar and with no fear of interruptions such as had ended the night in the Rose and Crown we could explore. She was 33 then but the few guys she had been with had been one way usage and she knew very little about a man's body. 

To start with I showed her how to take off my shirt.  That was quite deliberate. I wanted to equal the odds and break down her inferiority complex about her body. I knew it would help because I have a big, conspicuous scar right across my chest. It is the legacy of a motor racing accident which caused my sternum to collapse and a titanium rod being inserted to secure it back into position. It doesn't hurt but restricts the flexibility of my upper body movement a little and it is hardly beautiful. I showed it to Mary, explained what had happened and got her to touch it. Her fingers were gentle, sympathetic and a turn on.

This time I lifted her top, enjoying the warm, natural feel of her skin and playing with the rolls of her belly, tickling and pinching to make her squirm and ease the garment further up. Eventually it revealed a purple, satin half cup bra. I knew she was shy about her breasts but God they were beautiful, huge, full of colour and squeezed up and together by the bra, leaving just a deep, dark, mysterious canyon in between. 

I wanted to worship them with my hands and tongue. First I needed to remove her bra. I switched off the light, lit a candle and muttered incantations pretending to be a priest. She loved that and surrendered gladly.

Then we danced to an old Bryan Adams track, long and slow and sensuous. I rubbed her breasts all over my chest, controlling them with pressure from my hands on her back. Their weight, warmth and cuddliness was unbelievable. She picked up the trick using her hands to guide my chest. The moments when she stretched up in her high heels and our nipples met were electric, like forked lightning going down through my loins and sending my cock surging against her skirt.

That scared her as it had last time and I stepped back and cupped her left breast. It needed both hands and my thumbs were at full stretch pointing towards each other to find her tit. She had aureoles the size of a 50pence piece and amazingly sensitive. I moved my thumb tips in crescents round each side and drove her crazy. "Ahhhh! That's so good," she moaned.

"Wait. This will be better," I told her and lifted her whole breast, all two kilograms of pure woman and fed her tit into my reaching, hungry mouth. I sucked and nipped it until it was like a currant cake. I could feel every little goose bump she was so horny. 

We both needed to get our breath back. As the God of music would have it the next track on her Love Collection CD was Billie Joe Spears "Blanket on the Ground". We danced at arms length for a minute, looking into each other's eyes, registering each other's need. Then we closed in. The track is too fast for real smooching so I eased my hand over her waist and onto her bottom to guide the swinging of her hips.

I hadn't realised until then that her skirt was split at the back. But my fingertips found out and found the way in. Playing with her big, surprisingly firm, very lightly pantied buttocks was lovely. It made her giggle like a young girl especially when I tweaked the elastic and drew her panties tight against her pussy lips.

I have no ego about being the best stud in the world and for me the most important thing is for a woman to show how much I am turning her on. Equally I want my woman to know how she is turning me on.

"Look at me, darling," I said kindly but firmly when the dance finished. I stood back, shimmied my trousers and underpants down and stood proud in front of her. "Tell me what you think, honestly." 

"I can't believe it is for me," she whispered.

"Oh it is for you baby, all of it." I told her. "Come here." 

She came and took it in one hand, fingers barely gripping. It throbbed to her gossamer touch and feeling that she began to rub up and down. Of course it was level with the waist of her skirt and parallel to her vagina, eager to get in.

I eased her closer, unzipped the back of her skirt, and pushed it over her broad hips. She let it fall and I pressed my cock against her panties. That forced her to slide her hand down until she found my swollen, straining balls. She explored, scratching ever so slightly with her nails and I felt another surge of power. So did she.

It was time. I reached into the back pocket of my discarded trousers and suggested "Let's go on the blanket, love." 

She actually beat me to the throw on the sofa she was so horny. I hung back as she spread it on the carpet, gloating at her big bum swinging free, and her huge mound bulging between her legs, soaking panties clinging to it.

Sh elay down and I held out the open variety pack of Durex above her. "It likes to go in purple, baby," I told her looking meaningfully at my cock and her purple panties. She registered surprise and relief but it was my turn to feel nervous.

I don't like condoms. I like to feel the intimacy of my woman's fanny walls and send my sperm out to swim. I am too big for most condoms and more than once I have lost an erection fumbling to get one down my shaft. But I wasn't going to settle for anything less than her pussy. Maybe it was partly desire to finish what I started last time, maybe there was a score to settle or maybe it was simply my belief that foreplay, licking, kissing, tittie cream pies and so on are fun but fucking is the only way to show real commitment to each other. 

I knew she wouldn't let me take her bareback so purple latex had to do. "You put it on then you know you're safe," I told her and lay on my back beside her. I meant to reassure her. But I was all too aware that reawakening old, unwelcome memories was causing me to soften.

It didn't seem to bother her and she tried to put the condom over my tip. Her fingers were gentle and caring but I was struggling. By this stage she knew it but she didn't criticise or give up. She sat beside my head, rolled me onto my stomach with her strong arms and buried my face between her thighs.

The pornographic smell of her panties and the soft open cavity I could feel through them were incredible. I swiftly peeled them down from her waist. She lifted herself up to help me and I eased them under her bottom. My fingers delved between her thighs on the way and found her opening. Her yelp of pleasure as I applied pressure to her clit did the trick.  

I was rigid again and she barely had time to get the condom unrolled before I was on top of her thrusting deep inside. She wrapped her thunder thighs around me and held me in tight; gorgeous, particularly when I put my arms under her shoulders and rolled us from side to side.

I was forceful with her. She wasn't going to push me out this time. In truth she didn't try. She seemed to want to be mastered and surrendered herself to her passion. It was immense and urgent.  She hadn't been fucked properly for years and demanded my climax immediately. I knew she was orgasmic already. I could feel the hot flush spread from her belly through her whole body and her eyes were wild. But I made her wait until I had lapped up every ounce of pleasure from her mouth, boobs, thighs and cunt. Finally I felt her second shuddering orgasm and we cried out together as I released.

Spent I lay inside for a few minutes, cuddling her tightly and letting us both get our breath back. 

Then I eased out slowly and carefully. I tried not to spill anything but my condom was so full that I wonder if a few drops escaped. I have often questioned since whether either of us would have cared if they had.

We didn't talk about the possibility at the time. Neither of us wanted to disturb the mood of euphoria by questioning the future. We showered and then she asked me shyly to stay the night. 

I hadn't planned that and was a little taken aback. But our sensitivity to each other was growing. She knew she had gone too far too fast. But I was learning that she had tenacity. She put her dressing gown on and made hot chocolate for us both then we went into the living room to chat about it.

Part of me wanted to stay. Her home was comfortable and I found contentment in her arms. But staying the night implied more than just sex. I wasn't sure I wanted commitment either of loyalty or time. I was busy. I needed to get on with a project towards my MBA in the morning.

We skirted around the subject for a bit but it was getting late if I was going to drive home that evening. So finally I put it to her straight, "Why do you want me to stay? What do want from our relationship?"  

"I've never woken up with a man beside me. I just want to know what it is like," she replied. Seeing my surprise she elaborated. "Me mum would never let me bring a boyfriend home. She was old fashioned, no sex before marriage, all that stuff, you know. I just used to go to the allotments." Tonight is different. I've never felt like this before, like I'm floating on air. Isn't that what love is supposed to feel like?"

"You mean you want a long term relationship?" I asked not sure how I would react to her answer.

"You can work on your paper here in the morning. I won't bother you." She offered avoiding the question.

"OK so if I stay tonight, then what?" I persisted.

"I don't know." She replied. "I know I want you again all ready. But I told you before, guys don't stay with me. I'm frit of asking you but can we try, please. I am scared of being lonely again."

"If you've only had one night stands in an old greenhouse I'm not surprised nobody stays." I said to gain time to think. The note of desperation in her voice was a bit scary. If it didn't work and we had nothing in common out of bed it might be hard to get rid of her. On the other hand I admired her honesty, she didn't seem interested in my money and her lack of self confidence probably meant that she wouldn't be too pushy.

"All right, just for tonight and then we'll see how it goes from there." I told her.



You Got a Friend Ch. 03



Chapter 3: Evaluating Mary

Mary did well on her tests. So much so that I promoted her from long shot to possible in the girlfriend stakes.

Cruising down the M1 I evaluated her sleep test. 

"You don't want me in a tent," she had said discarding her sexless nightie. She slept naked. So did I after she put my clothes in the washer so that I would have something clean for the morning. We kissed and cuddled for a few minutes then she turned over onto her side, her back towards me. I snuggled into her back below her, her bottom against my belly, her big, soft breast tucked firmly into my hand and her fragrant hair in my nostrils.

Her bed was comfortable with plenty of pillows which are essential for me because of my chest injury. The temperature was just right and she slept peacefully without disturbing me. Delicious and refreshingly different from the over demanding wannabe WAGS with their trendy but uncomfortable beds that I am used to.

Her morning test performance was less successful. I gathered that years of shift work had made her a habitual early riser. So am I when I am alone. But that morning we reached for each other instinctively when we woke and kissed gently. I wanted more. I get harder and last longer when I am fresh in the morning. But Mary didn't seem to think it was a suitable time for nooky and was matter of fact about showering and dressing. Clearly there are still some inhibitions to break down there.

I stopped for a break at Rothersthorpe Services. The slap dash service contrasted sharply with Mary's results from the breakfast test. I continued my policy of not asking for anything or telling her what I wanted. I needed to know how she lived when being herself to see if we could be compatible. She did ask me but I just told her, "I'll have whatever you're having." I got coffee and toast and marmalade; just what I would have made for myself at home. We chatted freely as she prepared it and she didn't make a big fuss or waste time. But the food was perfect. We ate on stools in the kitchen and listened to Radio 2. I already knew that we both like 60s and 70s music but I was impressed that she also let me listen to the news without interruption. 

Afterwards we discussed some of the current topics. She hadn't had the opportunity of the grammar school and York University education that I had. She left school at 16 and knows little about politics, business or motor racing; my main interests. But she showed that she can think outside of her own needs, has plenty of common sense and a refreshing dose of compassion and tolerance in her attitudes. 

I offered to wash up and she gladly let me. Excessive politeness pisses me off. I like informality and sharing in relationships including chores so that is another plus point.

She had promised to give me peace to work on my MBA project and she was as good as her word. She doesn't have a study but she helped me connect my laptop to her modem, and cleared space on her computer desk in the living room. Then she got ready to go out. She didn't spend an hour faffing around with make up and her handbag as my ex wife used to do. Nor did she ask for money. She just quietly got out of my way and went to the supermarket. Great!

I got a lot done. Last night had cleared my mind and some statistical analysis problems that have been bugging me for weeks suddenly clicked. When Mary came back at lunchtime she asked about what I had been doing. At first I told her that she wouldn't understand and not to worry about it. That was probably true, but insulting. She was only trying to show that she cared about my work. I apologised when she looked crestfallen. She could accept a genuine apology and tried again. In fact I discovered that simplifying things so that she could understand helped me clarify my ideas and improve the logic of my presentation. I even made some changes which pleased her even though it meant delaying lunch.

Lunch at her instigation was sandwiches and drinks in the back garden. She had green fingers which I must admit is not high on my list of priorities in a woman. But it was a lovely Indian summer's afternoon and the sunlight showed her off to advantage. I discovered that she didn't have to dress for sex to look attractive. In fact she was wearing black jogging bottoms and a sky blue T-shirt. But her face was radiant, her big breasts bounced rather than flopped as she moved and when the breeze caught her hair I caught my breath. She was never going to be someone I could show off at a cocktail party to help my career and that has to be a consideration. But I now knew that she wouldn't embarrass me in everyday situations either.

I had planned to go home straight after lunch. I had to prepare my Lancia for the Historic Sports Car race at Silverstone the next day. But she was looking at me with unashamed interest the same as I was her. Our eyes met and our desires coincided. There was no need to discuss anything. We both wanted to say our farewells in the bedroom.

By the time I had pulled the curtains she had already shed her T-shirt and jogging bottoms and lay on the bed, the yellow sheet and pillow cases emphasising the rich, dark sheen of her hair. As for her underwear I could only stand and savour it with stunned, silent delight.

She had chosen a bra and thong set, black chiffon with gold flowers. The bra shaped her beautifully and the panties were tiny, hugging her vulva between her half open thighs and allowing her slit just a peep from behind its floral screen.

When she popped her big, creamy breasts out of the bra I practically tore my clothes off. Her tits were so incredibly inviting; the aureoles huge and darker than usual with excitement. 

"You're like my dads old stallion," she said laughing at my urgency. 

"I don't think so," I told her.  "Mares don't have tits like those," I added with my eyes on stalks. 

"Nobody's ever loved them before. Suck me, Steve, hard, please. Oh God, now, please darling."

"You don't have to beg, Mary," I replied gently and knelt beside the bed. I'm left handed so I leaned across her body and took the left one first, cupping it firmly from the outside and pushing its hot, soft, fleshy sweetness into my mouth. The taste of the natural oils from the pores of her skin was unbelievable and the scent of woman kindled my new born instinct to suck nipple. I was like a baby for a minute, pulling gently, bonding and erasing my deep insecurities. She responded to my feelings, caressing the back of my neck and spine ever so gently and making little soothing sounds. 

I was left wondering how much she really wanted a baby in spite of her expressed fears of pregnancy. At the time I dismissed the idea and got on with making love to her. But now............. Well it is a doubt we have to resolve.

Her right breast was pushing up under my chest demanding its turn. But I made it wait. I kissed every inch of her cleavage on the way across, drinking in her fresh, aroused sweat and enjoying those huge, soft, smooth breast walls rubbing my cheeks. I knew I was bristly because I hadn't brought a razor and hadn't been able to shave that morning. But she didn't seem to care, gently closing her breasts against me and rubbing.

I had been gentle with her left breast but the right one got the he man treatment. I squeezed it hard and nibbled the tit between my teeth instead of sucking. It drove her wild. She pulled her knees up and began to buck and thrash trying to get away from the pressure. But I knew she was really loving it and held her down until she had the most erect tit I have ever experienced.

She had the wettest panties as well. When I finally moved down and ran my hands and lips over them they literally squelched! When I peeled them slowly down her front and looked inside I realised they were not just damp, they were thick with buckets of creamy, sweet smelling cum. She turned and I lifted her legs bodily and pulled them off with a triumphant flourish.

Mary put her hand under her bum as still more cum oozed from her slit as she got up to find a condom. I handed her a luminous pink one this time. That made her giggle but her fingers knew me by now and I thrust between them getting ever harder as she unrolled the protection.

To my surprise she didn't lie down again. Then I realised that she was afraid to stain the sheet. She knelt on the side of the bed, legs wide apart but didn't seem to know what to do next or what I would do. What I did was smack her big, soft and inviting bum, playfully, twice, once on each buttock. "Naughty, naughty, Mary" I said laughing.

She giggled as another inhibition fell away, buried her face in the quilt and thrust her bum up. Her cunt filled the gap between her thighs, dark red, smooth and slippery with juice. So horny was she that her clit was actually hanging out. I knelt and touched it with the tip of my tongue once, twice, three times. The last time I got in return a shiver that ran right through her being. I stood up and drove for home, in till my balls were grinding against her, then out until only my tip was left to tease her clit, round and round that little pink ball of pleasure then another thrust with all the force of my pelvis. The bed creaked and groaned and she had to bite on the quilt to stop herself screaming.

Six rounds of this were all we could take before I blasted my load into pink latex.

So 100% on the sex test. She is fantastic and I know we can get better when she gets more experience and confidence. There are so many things I want to do with her. For a start I will be blasting my next load into her cervix instead of into pink latex.  I have vowed it. 

I don't see myself getting bored with her, at least in bed, for some time. Out of bed it is up to her to see if she can keep me interested. Will she try and does she believe in our future enough to go on the pill? I don't know.



You Got a Friend Ch. 04



Chapter 4: Mail Order

On that difficult Monday night at the beginning of November Mary let it slip that the following Saturday was her birthday. I asked her what she wanted for her present but she wouldn't say. Mary was like that. She was afraid that I would think of her as a sponger. I earned a lot more than she did and her inferiority complex had flared up again. Respect was important to her. But there were now issues between us in that respect.

The path of true love had not run smoothly. Does it ever? I duly raced my Lancia at Silverstone the Sunday after our last tryst. That was the good bit. I felt on top of the world. Perhaps the optimism she had given me helped or perhaps it was the rain which always suits my car. Anyway I won my class and Ritchie Jackson didn't finish; a result that gave me an outside chance of winning my class in the Road Sports Championship. Faced with a choice I cancelled a half promised visit to Mary and entered the final round.

I should have known better. It took place the following Sunday at Snetterton. I would have had to beat Jackson to take the title. But I have never won there and the long straights favour his Lotus Elan more than my Lancia. I did ask Mary if she wanted to come but she declined. I don't blame her. An old airfield on the flatlands of Norfolk is bleak at the end of October even if you love motor racing. 

Jackson had problems in practice and started at the back. But he wanted the title badly. He sliced through the field and by lap 8 was on my tail. I made a mistake through the Bomb Hole and he got a run down my inside into Coram. But then he locked up and forced me wide as I tried to avoid a collision. I put a wheel on wet grass on the outside and got sideways. As I came back on to the track I clipped the back of his car as he went through. We both lost control and crashed heavily into the tyre wall. 

It was a hefty shunt. I was knocked out briefly and sustained concussion and whiplash. The marshals did a great job but I was detained in Norwich hospital overnight for observation. Of course I missed my promised online rendezvous with Mary. Naturally she thought the worst and assumed I had fallen for a pit doll. I tried to explain to her that these creatures infest the Monaco Grand Prix not a winter club meeting. She wasn't convinced. So I didn't get much sympathy when I explained the hole in my bank balance and even less when I told how many hours burning the midnight oil it would take to rebuild my car.

Worse was to follow. I couldn't meet her the following weekend either. I was still stiff and sore with my neck in a brace. But that wouldn't have deterred me. I was aching for the comfort of her ample breasts and thighs. What did was the opening of our new shop in Southampton. We had secured a prime site in the new waterfront development and it was a glitzy do I couldn't miss. 

I admit that I chose the Premiership footballer who cut the ribbon. But that was before his cocaine snorting became infamous. When the tabloids splashed the story we couldn't get out of the contract. In any case some of my fellow directors believe in the old adage that any publicity is good publicity. We certainly got a spread. Inevitably the bimbos and wannabe models that frequent these things were there in force. My presence in the same photos was noted in Derbyshire. Not by Mary herself but by a jealous workmate which made matters worse.

Nevertheless she came online on the Monday night which is surely the worst way ever invented to have a row.

Afterwards lying in bed unable to sleep and dreaming of her seductive panties and welcoming pussy I decided to take the following weekend off in lieu and go to visit her. Then I thought why not make it a surprise.

When I knocked on her door I was unusually nervous. "What if she was out?" But I needn't have worried. She was amazed and delighted to see me; the relief that it wasn't over etched on her face. We shared an exploratory, get to know you again, kiss before we even left her kitchen. She hadn't dressed for an occasion and was wearing an ordinary crimson blouse and denim skirt. But her hair was freshly washed, soft and smelt of the apple shampoo she used. I played with little ringlets as she read her birthday card and made coffee. She seemed to catch the romantic mood I wanted.

Once on the sofa her big breast quickly found its way into my hand. I squeezed affectionately and she glanced down at her own cleavage. The look in her eyes told me she was remembering the last time with mounting excitement. It was too soon but I laid her down on the sofa and popped the top button. Nuzzling her valley drove her crazy and she began to squirm with pent up need.

Then the doorbell rang. I had almost forgotten my surprise! I jumped up to answer the door. When I looked back I was in time to see her frantically covering up her black lace briefs.

"This is for you", I said as I brought the Littlewoods mail order parcel in. She looked bewildered then realised that it really was addressed to her and started to tear at the paper. 

"Not yet, Mary, we are going away. Save it for tonight".

"What do you mean?" She asked. 

She found out when the receptionist at the Plough gave us the key. It was a real olde worlde place with thick black oak beams and antique brasses on the walls as we went up the steep stairs. The room was small but warm and cosy with a dormer window and a big old fashioned oak bed piled with fluffy quilts and pillows, fruit and flowers on the table, a mini bar and a luxurious bathroom. It was just what I had asked for, intimate and pampering; perfect to make her feel special. 

We were both starving and luckily the restaurant was all it claimed to be in the internet brochure. A secluded alcove, candles, wine and fabulous cooking gave us a chance to make up and Mary a birthday dinner to remember. Desert was still to come in the privacy of our room.

I had to prompt her to open her present. When she did and shook out the contents her face was a picture of curiosity, excitement and embarrassment. "Go on into the bathroom and try it on" I told her.

It was even more revealing than I had imagined from the catalogue. She spun around like a nervous, teenage model and caught sight of herself in the mirror. "Steve, it shows everything" she gasped blushing and looking at the open curtains. "I'd better put something on before the neighbours see." "You don't need anything else Mary", I told her softly. "There are no neighbours here. Come here and let me look at you in the moon light. I'm going to remind you how beautiful you are." 

"Your skin is so creamy tonight; like a young girl's. Lie down on your face." I told her. She did and I massaged her shoulders gently easing away the knots of tense embarrassment. 

When she had had enough she sat up. "Oh my God, your breasts", I murmured. The red chiffon covered but didn't hide them and I could see their pinkness underneath. The pattern of little leaves and flowers on the negligee added an element of mystery. I tweaked the material with my finger tip to get a better view of her nipple. It was dusky rose and rock hard. "Suck me", she begged. 

Obediently I did, then circled her cuticle in tiny kisses until she realised my need was getting urgent. She stood up and gently pulled me up too. She slowly undressed me praising and flattering despite the still visible bruises from my Snetterton crash. 

Finally I had only my socks on. To have those taken off I lay on the floor and kicked my legs up for her. It only took seconds and she thought I was ready. To my amusement she also thought I preferred the hard floor to the comfy bed for a fuck. No way! But I wanted a worm's eye view for my turn to explore.

I had never praised her feet. In fact I had never really looked at them but I wanted her to know that I was falling in love with all of her. I picked up her left foot and put it on my belly. Like everything about her it was substantial. The sole was hard; not surprisingly as she had to walk to work every day. But one of the things I liked about Mary was the way she looked after herself. The top of her foot was spotless and soft with pretty, pink varnished nails. Following my instincts I did something I have never done before, kissed her foot then moved it down and tickled her toes with my hard cock tip. She giggled and swayed drawing my eyes upwards.

I turned my attention to her thighs. The negligee barely came below her crotch and was split at the side up to her waist. I explored with my finger tips at first with little circular motions, very slowly moving upwards. Yes there was some cellulite but I no longer found it ugly. It was part of her. Anyway there were compensations. The flesh was yielding and her skin was warm, soft and frankly sexy. 

All this time she was looking down at my cock. It didn't disappoint her pointing straight as an arrow at the target in her panties, glands standing out and its tip protruding beyond my foreskin, purple with waiting semen. The lust in her eyes was something to behold and I caught my breath as a drip trickled down the inside of her thigh to my waiting finger.

"You're made for red panties, Mary", I told her. The negligee came with a matching pair, tiny and sheer. I stood up slowly tracing my cock tip up the slit at the side of her nightie. It found the elastic, which I flicked outwards, and thrust its way underneath. Slowly I moved round her body easing the tight elastic away from her belly with my cock. This pulled the chiffon tight between her pussy lips and made her giggle.

She tumbled back onto the bottom of the bed spread wide. I lifted her legs and knelt between her thighs before pulling her on to me, resting her legs on my shoulders to lift her. I stroked her thigh tops with my finger tips playing with her pantie elastic and pushed my tongue against her forcing the flimsy fabric further into her camel toe. She couldn't wait any longer and soaked them with a cry of ecstasy.

She recoiled and tried to get up, shocked at what she had done to my expensive gift. 

"It's not dirty, Mary" I reassured her. "It's natural and you taste so good. I hooked her legs back over my shoulders, pushed her panties aside and really munched her big, fleshy fanny lips until she was writhing and moaning with desire. Finally I slid the drenched panties slowly along her thighs and calves.

"Oh Steve, take me...... now. Please!" she pleaded, her breathing coming in little gasps.

I lifted her legs vertical to escape, turned and dived backwards onto the bed. I finished up lying along it, my head propped on the luxury pillows and Mary standing over me. She realised what I meant to do and protested "No, Steve. I'm too heavy."

"You're not and I'm strong as steel," I told her and let her feel how hard I really was.

Her cum slippery thighs straddling me felt beautiful and I slid down a couple of inches between them until my cock found the top of her pussy. I curled it round her mound until I found the opening and thrust like a slingshot straight up and inside. I took her, half way, teasing her clit, feeling the spasms of her fanny muscles and reaching under her nightie to feel those luscious tits thrusting between my cupping fingers. I have never needed to cum so badly and restraining myself was torture. 

She realised I was holding back and simply said "It's OK, Paul. I'm safe today."

I buried the length of my shaft inside her. The feeling of my balls rubbing on her lubricated mound was incredible and I fired, spurt after spurt. With each glob she leaned forward and clutched my chest, threw her head back and moaned clamping my cock with her fanny muscles, trying to draw out every last drop. Heaven!

Later as we kissed and cuddled she confessed, "I love you, Steve. Why ever didn't I do that before? It's so much better bare."

I was tempted to utter the fateful words, "I love you, Mary". But they are the hardest words to unsay if it all goes wrong later. So I bit my tongue.

She didn't push me and settled for possession finally drifting off to sleep with her head pillowed on my chest and my arm round her shoulders.

We had never got round to drawing the curtains. When the sunrise woke me she was still fast asleep. She was lying on her back, a serene expression on her face, the quilt thrown back exposing her negligee high up under her breasts, her legs apart, pussy bare and gloriously inviting once more. 

I didn't wake her but got up and ran the bath, leaving the door open. The splashing water was meant to rouse her. By the time she shyly looked round the door the big, white, oval bath was half full and thick with Jasmine scented bubbles. "Come on pet. There's room for two," I said and made a playful grab for her. 

She got in and sat cross legged with her knees drawn up, her fabulous breasts resting lightly on her thighs, her pussy mysterious under the bubbles. I sat on the corner of the bath with my feet in the water and slowly, lovingly, luxuriously washed every inch of her. At first she tensed and I guessed it was the first time she had been washed by a man. But she soon relaxed and lay back, eyes closed while I made snowballs out of the bubbles and placed them on her tits. I could feel them getting really horny.

So was I especially when she asked hesitantly if we could change places. I agreed of course. Her hands were amazing, strong but tender as she massaged my fading bruises with the soap. Meanwhile her legs were closed but I couldn't take my eyes off the view between her melons. By the time she washed my cock, moving her hands up from my balls, stretching and hardening me I just had to get inside.

I got out of the tub but there was no time to get dried. I just laid my cock up the entrance to her cleavage as she sat on the edge of the bath. She pulled her own tits like opening double doors and my cock sank gratefully inside her valley before she closed her breasts over it again. We played for a minute enjoying each other's slipperiness until I couldn't restrain myself and covered her boobs in cum.

She stood up grinning like a Cheshire cat and even tasted some of the cream before I unhooked the shower head and rinsed us both off. She popped a pill in her mouth before we headed back to the bed to complete the consummation of our love making.

Trust had been rebuilt. But it was only halfway home that I realised that subconsciously I was assuming that it mattered so that we could spend many more winter evenings together enjoying the rest of her presents. "Well bring it on," I thought.



You Got a Friend Ch. 05



Chapter 5: Gestures and Dreams

I saw Mary before she spotted me. The first thing I noticed was her stockings. Her late birthday presents shaped and smoothed her sturdy calves and thighs complemented by her well fitting black skirt and black ankle boots. She had a gold coloured padded jacket on, unzipped, with a yellow sweater underneath and her rich chestnut hair tumbling down her back waved now and thicker and softer than ever. She looked oh so desirable and more sophisticated.

But when she saw me she ran over, breasts bouncing shamelessly and flung her arms up around my neck like a love struck teenager. I missed her so much that I couldn't help responding and we shared a long kiss, both passionate and affectionate, right in the middle of the coach station concourse.

It had been five weeks between our dirty birthday weekend and her trip to spend Christmas with me in Hemel; far too long. But she had had to do weekend overtime during the pre Christmas rush at the frozen food factory where she worked. 

I was also busy with the annual round of parties and glad handing which go with a senior job in marketing. Somehow I had also managed to get started re-shelling my Lancia and complete my MBA project. Mary encouraged me more than she knew by her support during our online chats. They had become almost nightly. But cyber love was not the same as holding her and feeling the comfort and promise of her big womanly body enfolding me and seeing the sparkle in her brown eyes.

Then she suddenly pulled back and her eyes dulled. She asked quietly and hesitantly, "Do you mind being seen with me, Steve?"

This was a high stakes moment. I quickly realised that when I followed her gaze. A woman was looking directly at us with a smirk on her face which turned into an ironic victory sign when she cottoned on that I had seen her. I recognised Chloe, our self styled arbiter of fashion, from the purchasing department. 

"Of course not," I told Mary automatically. But even to me it didn't sound convincing. In truth trouble was staring at us. It was a long story but basically, as I explained to Mary later, I am trying to run a customer centred business. My vision is to place the marketing objective of satisfying the customer's needs profitably at the centre of everything the company does. Not everyone in the organisation agreed. For a start the purchasing department remained obsessed with cost cutting regardless of considerations of quality and availability. But my MBA project had proved that the model they were using was flawed. I had raised hackles by passing on my results to the board.

Negative gossip doesn't help with company infighting at the best of the times. Even if the issues should be decided on purely business criteria experience has taught me that it doesn't always happen that way. I realised that the knowledge that I had a 30 something BBW girlfriend could be twisted to suggest that I was out of touch and projecting the wrong image. When all said and done we were in the teenage fashion business so that could be dangerous to my career.

Did I really mind being seen with Mary? Sod it no I decided, "The company doesn't own me." I took Mary's hand firmly, squared my shoulders and went out of our way to walk straight past Chloe returning her stare. She flinched first. Maybe she knew she wasn't going to get good loving that night and I was. I don't know and I didn't care.

"Thanks, Steve. That means a lot," Mary said quietly, took a deep breath and settled into my car. "Why don't you mind? She's from work, isn't she and she'll tell everyone I'm fat and ugly."

Mary wasn't an educated woman but her perceptiveness continued to surprise me. 

"It was a long story," I said trying to put her off. But she wanted to hear it. "Basically," I explained, "I am trying to run a customer centred business. My vision is to place the marketing objective of satisfying the customer's needs profitably at the centre of everything the company does. Not everyone in the organisation agrees. For a start the purchasing department remains obsessed with cost cutting regardless of considerations of quality and availability. But the MBA project you helped me with has proved that the model they are using is flawed. I have raised a few hackles by passing on my results to the board.

Negative gossip doesn't help with company infighting at the best of the times. Even if the issues should be decided on purely business criteria experience has taught me that it doesn't always happen that way. If gossip gets about that I had a 30 something BBW girlfriend it could be twisted. They could make out that I am out of touch and projecting the wrong image. When all said and done we are in the teenage fashion business so that could be dangerous to my career.

But I have just realised that I don't care."

Mary said nothing but just smiled; a secret smile of deep contentment.

"Do you get that kind of back biting at your place?" I asked.

"Not so much now. They all reckon I'm past it, on the shelf, like. But when I were at school yeah. Any time a boy looked at me they'd tease him till he dropped me."

"More fool them," I said with emphasis. "Darling, you look great! I'm proud of you." 

She did. I had just discovered something else about Mary. She could travel, four hours with a change of coach, in winter, and still look fresh and exciting. But she just blushed and hung her head. She still didn't believe in herself. 

I followed her eyes and said, "I love your stockings, baby. They were a great choice." 

"Your choice," she modestly replied. "I'm always being told I can't wear stockings 'cause I've got fat legs. But they feel nice."

She slowly eased her skirt up till I could see the broad lacy tops. They hugged her thighs slimming without pinching and looked sensuous; then, when she moved her legs a little apart, downright provocative. I wanted them wrapped round me there and then and my cock thrusting into the little black lacy panties I could just see peeping. I got a massive hard on slap bang in the middle of the multi storey car park. Luckily my Audi has tinted windows!

"You really miss me that much?" she said looking at the bulge with undisguised interest.

"I'll show you how much." I said. "We're going to have the best Christmas ever." I wished I hadn't said that as soon as it had slipped out. I should have remembered that Christmas was the anniversary of her mother's death. I didn't know what she was expecting and the season might be more poignant than festive for her. I immediately apologised. But she took a deep breath and said, "Life has to go on and at least now I have something to hope for. Are you a big Christmas fan?"

"Actually Christmas hasn't been my favourite time for a long while. I find it hard to get into the swing of the festivities....... Enough said. Let's not spoil it now we are together again at last." 

Mary had enough sensitivity not to pry into the details. She seemed to have her own private thoughts and we contined the journey in silence.

I wrenched my thoughts back to the present and decided I had to make an effort starting with a visit to my local Sainsbury's for last minute Christmas shopping. I added Mince pies, chocolates, biscuits, a Christmas pudding and so on to the turkey I already had. Mary asked about decorations and I had to admit that I hadn't put up the tree yet. I needed her there to motivate me to get started on it. She laughed at that and we had a fun half hour choosing baubles, tinsel, lights and, at her insistence, a fairy from the limited stocks left.

Mary always had a capacity to cheer me up. But I soon realised that I was far more at home in her simple, relaxed, feminine home than she was in my bachelor pad. I am tidy minded and like a clean, orderly place. That much we had in common. But the masculine black leather sofa and book lined study seemed to intimidate her as did the motor racing memorabilia around the place. She seemed scared to disturb anything to put up the Christmas stuff. 

"What's wrong," I asked her. "Don't you like my place?"

"It is nice and smart. But it needs a woman's touch, like some flowers." She said this gently, with a smile, but at the same time meant it. I should have known better. Her home was always full of fresh flowers and I should have bought some to welcome her.

Determined to impress her I rushed out to the little Asian shop which always ignored Christmas. They had one bunch of red roses left, thank heaven.

It didn't solve the problem. She still seemed frightened to make herself at home in my kitchen. It was brand new, professionally fitted and had all the latest, matching stainless steel gadgets. But maybe it was too clinical and intimidating. Hers was a basic twenty year old council house set up but always warm and cheerful and, unlike me, she could produce fantastic meals in no time.

She disappeared into the bedroom to unpack but called cheerfully, "Don't try so hard, Steve. I'll take what comes same as you do at mine. You don't have to impress me. I already love you, remember."

"Oh well," I thought. "Here goes" and waited for the ping to tell me the main course was ready. I put the plates on a tray and took them into the living room.

I hadn't heard Mary come back. She had changed into the pink dressing gown we had bought in York and it suited her. She looked fluffy and cuddly but she was standing nervously by the window instead of sitting down on the sofa. I put the tray down and scooped her up. Or rather I tried to. I am not as strong as I thought and staggered under her weight. We tumbled backwards onto the sofa, laughing and the ice was broken at last.

Her dressing gown cord didn't survive the tumble. She had her birthday filmy red negligee and black stockings under her dressing gown. Blushing she showed me that was all. She had no bra and no panties on.

"Wow! You look ravishing." I told her.

"I don't know about ravishing but I'm ravenous. Come and feed me first then you can fuck me, eh, Father Christmas," and she plonked a silly Santa hat on my head.

We shared the lasagne with forks from the foil dish. The food was only so so but she didn't complain. Instead she was flattered that I had remembered that she liked rum and coke. Mary was like that. A glass was always half full with her. Then the cherry pie and whipped cream stunned her. If I say it myself it was good and she tucked in with gusto. So much so that she asked for more cream. Luckily I had a little but it didn't go in her mouth. I had a wicked idea and with the cream poised in a lump on the spoon looked pointedly at her nipple clearly visible under the red chiffon. "You wouldn't dare," she said laughing.

"Wouldn't I?" I replied.

The cream covered her tit and I licked up the most delicious dessert ever. There was no more cream but it started off the most uninhibited, joyous romp I had ever had up to that point. We went all over the room with our games but ended on the sofa almost as I had imagined in the car with her big, warm, soft clad thighs wrapped tightly round me and my cock ravishing her pussy. She got more satisfying every time. 

She was exhausted after her long day's travelling so I put her to bed and lay beside her. But I didn't sleep. I was well into the Christmas spirit by now and improvised with two old pillowcases. I made labels, Steve and Mary, with Word Art on the computer and hung them on the bottom of the bed as Christmas stockings. I filled hers then I lay beside my sleeping beauty.

A squeal of delight woke me in the morning. She had beaten me to it and discovered the stockings. She was busily filling mine from her holdall. 

We showered, Mary soaping me madly with excitement and gulped down coffee and toast. Then we sat on the living room floor in our dressing gowns opening our presents under the tree. "I used to do this when I was a kid," I said feeling a bit foolish.

"Me too," she told me then added wistfully. "Christmas is for kids." Still we can be big kids, can't we?" I noted that hint about wanting a kid.

But time to worry about that later. Right now it was better than being a kid again. I got a biography of Archie Scott Brown, a motor racing hero of mine. Now I understood why she had been nervous about all my books. She was afraid I would already have the one she was going to give me. I hadn't and thanked her with increasingly passionate kisses as I looked forward to many evenings of pleasure reading it.

There was also a smart blue patterned shirt and matching tie. She asked me to dress for Christmas lunch. I thought it was a bit pointless as we weren't going out. But she was scared that my new shirt wouldn't fit. It did, perfectly; aided by her fingers smoothing the luxurious material against the muscles of my chest and shoulders. 

Finally I un-wrapped a home made cushion with a cross stitch cover showing a love heart and our names. It was girlish but beautiful. It didn't suit the sofa as she had realised yesterday. But I showed her that it looked great on the bed, the pink and cream pattern complimenting my crimson bed set and giving the room the feminine touch she wanted. 

I was deeply moved by the amount of time and trouble Mary had taken and by the message that her love extended to supporting my career and my motor racing For the first Christmas in years I didn't have to hide my disappointment at doing all the giving and getting nothing back. 

For her part she opened a gardening book. I had selected it more or less at random. But she was thrilled to bits with it saying that she had always had to make do with old stuff from the public library. If the fluffy pink slippers to match her dressing gown delighted her then the seductive primrose bra and panty set sent her into raptures. I asked her to try them on. She emerged from the bathroom saying, "They make me feel like a model," and proved it by trying to do a cat walk imitation across the living room. 

She was deliberately hamming it up and the result was not only provocative but funny. I creased up laughing and she joined me lying back on the sofa. The colour looked fantastic against the black leather of my couch and I took my time savouring her. She 

hadn't expected them to stay on long and seemed surprised. But she had missed something. Like a kid she had gone for the biggest packages first. I took out a tiny navy blue box from the bottom of the bag and slowly opened it in front of her. She looked at the second finger of her left hand with a besotted expression on her face.

Now I knew what her dream was. But she was going to be disappointed. I gently reached behind her neck and parted her hair. Then she knew what it was. I watched her eyes carefully. Dashed hopes showed for just a second, no more. Then she picked up the ruby I had let fall between the tops of her breasts and kissed it. 

I let her caress it between her finger tips and picked a rose from the vase on the window sill. That I placed on her belly, stalk on her panties, flower just below her cleavage.

She was speechless and "Happy Christmas, darling," was all I could say. It was a sublimely emotional moment and not a time to analyse what each other's looks and gestures meant for the future but a time to bask in each other's closeness. It was not a time for penetration but for adoration and I just knelt in front of her, my face in the vee between her thighs whilst she fondly ruffled my hair and tried not to cry.

After a long period of worship we were both hungry. I admitted my problem with cooking Christmas lunch. She headed for the kitchen with alacrity. She had been waiting for my confession. I realised it was important to her self confidence that I didn't act like I knew all the answers and she was a just a stupid country girl. Once we had cleared up that issue we found we could work together successfully and have fun doing simple things together.

Satiated we slept for much of the afternoon, not needing to fuck but just glad to be in each other's arms. 

Later she decided that there was nothing worth watching on TV. Without hesitation, as if she had it in mind all along, she went into the bedroom and produced one more gift from her bag. It was "Pretty Woman" and she put it straight into the DVD player. I've seen it before and enjoyed it so that was fine by me.

I was content to relax, chat over it and have a drink. But I realised that she was watching intently and trying to draw my attention to parts of the film. It dawned on me that she was trying to give me a message but I wasn't getting it.

When it had finished we went to bed. I stripped naked in anticipation. Mary lay beside me, in only her panties, propped up on her elbow, huge, gorgeous breast hanging down onto the sheet, bare, warm and squeezable. I reached for it and she dimmed the lights from the console above the bed; so far so good. But she just tucked my hand possessively under her breast not allowing it to roam over her expanses as it likes to do.

It was pillow talk that she wanted and the topic was Richard Gere alias Edward Lewis. "Are you like Edward?" she asked me with a nervous stutter in her voice. That told me this was a very important negotiation. I would have to be careful not to either lose her or make promises I might not want to keep in the cold light of day.

I parried. "Why do you think that? What did you like about him?"

"He didn't see Julia Roberts as a whore. He treated her like a woman." She explained.

"True, I said. "But what's that got to do with us?"

"You don't see me as fat and useless, like other guys. I love you like the girl loved Edward in the film. Don't you see?" 

I did but I wanted her to put her cards on the table first. "Go on. I'm listening," I reassured her.

"Edward wouldn't say he loved her. She kind of got the idea he just wanted a mistress......"

She left the ending hanging but I knew she meant that they had almost gone their separate ways.

I decided to tell her the truth. "The first time with you was sex and loneliness. For you too I think. I have never been with a big girl before and I still find it hard to believe how beautiful and sexy you are. I'm still learning about you and about myself as well. Each time we meet I find out more and my feelings deepen. You satisfy some need in me that is more than just sex. But it is not easy for me. I'm restless. It's just the way I'm made. I don't know what for ever means. I'm not even sure I know what eternal love is supposed to feel like let alone if I can give it. I want you. I need you! But I don't want to promise something I can't deliver. Can you understand that, babe?" 

She lay silent for a minute pondering then said, "Has someone hurt you in the past?" 

"Yesss," I said and realised that now I had admitted that much I might have to tell all. But I didn't want to. "Do you want the gory details?" I asked. "I don't want you to get jealous. You must know that a guy my age has a past, right?"

"I'm an adult," she said. "Gone on, tell me." 

"Love isn't for me," I began. "I realised that the hard way a long time ago. My marriage ended bitterly. She was all over me when the bank was doing well and I was getting fat bonuses. Then I could indulge her. I did bloody everything for her, looked after her two kids like they were mine, bought her clothes, jewellery, cosmetics, a car; you name it she got it. She had expensive tastes did Michelle. So did her family of wasters. But then she found another guy whilst I was having a bad patch. I caught them at the office Christmas Party.

Then there was that bitch I met on a business trip in Thailand. She was supposed to be a translator but Fon just used me. We got engaged and I fixed her fiancée visa to Britain. Then she dumped me as soon as my mother died. She found out that nursing care costs had used up nearly all my savings and inheritance and she was off like a scalded cat. 




You Got a Friend Ch. 05



After that I decided that romance is an illusion for kids. I focused on rebuilding my career. I've had a few fucks. I've got a man's needs. You know that. I've never hurt a woman. But I avoid commitment. So did they, mostly, until you came along. But this is different and I don't know how to handle it. That's the honest truth, Mary."

"Thank you, Steve. Thanks for being honest with me." There was no bitterness in Mary's voice but she switched off the light and turned away from me. 

A few minutes later she whispered "In the film Julia Roberts asked for the dream. Are you saying there is no dream for me, Steve?"

"It depends what your dream is," I replied, suddenly alert again.

"I'm not interested in the clothes or the parties like in the film and I can wait for marriage. I've been on the shelf for years. I won't get any dustier," she said trying to force herself to laugh. "I just want us to be together..... for ever," she said with a degree of desperation in her voice that told me this was really her bottom line.

"For ever is a long time," I replied gently. "Nobody can see the future. But I want to share it with you whatever it might be," I promised her. "As for the rest, marriage, kids and all that stuff. Well I'm not saying never. Just give me time."

She rolled over towards me and said, her voice breaking, "Take my panties off, Steve."