A Curious Combo

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Feedback much appreciated. Just be gentle please it is my very first time.

*

I arrived back from work angry and dispirited. Angry with Bob, my client, and with myself for not kneeing him in the balls or reporting him, feeling all the effort put into my job tainted yet again.

In the bedroom I took off my heels, then my dress and tights then paused, looking at the woman in the full-length mirror. She was tall, blond, tits too big, a bum too large, facts her X had remarked on too often. Was it the big tits that caused men to think it OK to make the comments they did, to whisper that it was only these ‘charms’ that won her the promotion that one of them was expecting? For others, more senior to grope her. Clients as well, like Bob today, whilst saying we could work something out business wise? What was it with tits and men for Christ sake?

I should have grabbed Bob by the balls and squeezed with all my might. Fuck the contract! Putting her hand between her legs she squeezing the bottom of her groin as she was thinking this. One thing for sure, Bob was never going to get near here, moving my left hand into my panties from the side. The place where no man had touched for a good while. Leaving me to create my own satisfaction when needed, such as it was. Like maybe right now? Where had all the good men gone? Was it just me that could not find one? But then, with my luck I was better without.

Still looking in front of the mirror, I started rubbing on the pubic bone. Watching myself in the mirror was a new thing and when combined with my anger made me keen to get some release soon. Adding two fingers from the other hand to the mix gently pressing between those lips seeking to make myself wet. Suddenly the thought, could Eddie be my lover? This thought interrupted my flow momentary. No! I can’t do that now, not after what Josh had done – controlling, corrupting, physically, making me doubt everything. Not now.

I wrenched my thoughts back to the immediate need for some momentary pleasure with difficulty. Removing my hand from my cunt and using both to remove the strong bra. The bra was one of several specially selected for work. My mind diverted away again questioning whether the uncomfortable bras were worth it. After all my boobs didn’t need the heavy support, watching whilst I made my tits bounce and settle, jutting out and with very little sag, as evidence of that. The logic for the purchase did not seem to be working at all. The idea of constricting my tits, binding them closer to my body would somehow encourage judgement based on actions and not looks was laughable in retrospect, an abject failure. This real shitty day had demonstrated this fact and anger became stronger, like waves over her body. All the bras and their constriction achieved was making me sweatier. Focusing back once more on solitary pleasures I pinched my nipples, first softly and then harder. My nipples expanded and burned and in turn this caused my cunt muscles to tighten in response. Today was not a day for the nice cosy slow build up. I wanted release. Pulling my nipples savagely feeling a stronger twitch, and then again with yet more force. Moving to my bedside and reaching into the drawer to pull out my reliable night time friend, even though it was currently not night time with the sun still shining brightly.

I returned to stand again in front of the mirror. With my free hand I cupped and squeezed my left breast before applying the vibrator to the area close to the nipple. Forcing myself to slow down or this would not work. I brought my friend in contact near the nipple. Moving slowly first to the left, over the top, and pausing briefly when I reached the right. Then moving and stimulating the little hard and sensitive part below my nipple. Warmth was finally building. It was time, I brought the vibrator into contact with the left nipple. After a few seconds as it worked it’s magic. Still watching in the mirror I moved the vibrator directly onto the other nipple using my free hand to push the nipple against the vibrator firmly, feeling my deliberate self inflicted pain and my need rising further. Setting the vibrator down a moment to step out of my panties. I squeezed my nipples one at a time and then picked up the device again and widened my stance enough to bring the vibrator towards my cunt lips. Teasing, gradually working the vibrator in, but not deep – not yet. Although watching in the mirror was arousing, it was not the most practical position to reach orgasms, or for that matter the aftermath of a good one. So I backed towards the bed. When the backs of my legs came into contact I allowed myself to fall backwards.

I told myself again that this was not a time for the long build up to the cliff edge. I did not have the time and also I was still angry! Today was different, I wanted pain to distract me, as well as pleasure. So I pushed the vibrator hard into my pussy even though it was as yet only slightly damp. After a few moments moving in and out I turned the machine higher. My pussy started getting warm and wet though feeling a little pain from my hasty attack. Time to attack my clit now. Meanwhile illegal bahis adding three fingers from my other hand to take over within my cunt pushing in then pulling almost out, then in again. I pressed my faithful friend against my clit moving in little circles and increasing the pressure quickly. Simultaneously increasing the pace and depth of my fingers in my cunt. I was getting hot all ways, my cunt was now reaching that hot and juicy stage and I was sweating from the fast activity. Despite my aggressiveness it seemed a long time for the single violent orgasm to hit. After the tremors settled I felt the juices trickling out of my cunt down my leg and towards the sheet crumpled from my activity, and wet with sweat. I was warm and did not feel like moving, figuring what the hell, let the juices puddle, the sheet needed changing anyway. I dozed.

I woke a little later still warm, naked and damp. My thoughts turned to the big idea involving Eddie and questioned again if I had the courage to go through with it. I replayed the facts again in my mind seeking to quell the doubts. I did not have close friends. Yes, I spoke with my two sisters frequently but not about life, love, and career choices and especially not about sex, or the lack thereof in my case. After the parting with Josh it had taken time to realise that not many of my previous friends and family had liked Josh. They had seen in him what I had not, till far too late. One or two had tried to warn me. The extra and unexpected hurt this caused after the breakup was from finding many friends were not really friends anymore, perhaps not entirely lost, but we were no longer close. The sisterhood camaraderie immediately after the breakup had not lasted. I was not even as close to my family as before.

I dozed again, woken hearing a car pulling into the drive across the road. Eddie must be back. It was Tuesday, if I was going to implement my big idea I had to do it now. First things first though, Eddie might certainly get the wrong idea if I went over smelling of sex and sweat. So, after the shower, dressed in a long sleeved shirt and smart black jeans, I ran out of the house, so as not to give myself a chance to back out.

______

I was dressing after a shower following an afternoon of golfing when the doorbell rang. I quickly finished zipping up my trousers and was still stuffing my shirt into my trousers as I answered the door. It was my neighbour, Georgina Honeyford.

“Sorry, I saw you arriving back, should have given you….”, Honey said.

“It’s fine, my fault for opening the door half dressed, could be misconstrued”, I interrupted with a smile. “Come through,” opening the door wide to let her pass and head into the living room. “What can I offer you, coffee, tea, wine?”

“Err, no.., actually, on second thoughts, if you have any wine open that’d be nice”, Honey replied.

“Coming right up, got some in the kitchen, sit down, make yourself at home.”

I was doubly intrigued. In truth I did not know her that well. Honey was senior in a PR agency and took most things calmly in her stride yet seemed on edge this evening. Plus she did not drink a lot and it was still early. As we were both professionals and pretty much the only singles on the street we did favours for each other and went to the odd social event together. I fed her cat and made her place look occupied when she was away on business. She used to feed my fish when I was away and was pretty much my only friend on the street. On one occasion mentioning that she did not like her first name, and was stuck with people calling her Gina. I invented the name, Honey, derived from her last name, as my special name for her. She was slightly embarrassed by this and tried to dissuade me from calling her that but I stuck with it, and it became our private joke.

I had not needed her help much recently as I had been made redundant a few weeks ago. We had gone to the theatre and other events including to a gig or two. Honey made it clear that she valued me as a FRIEND. The inference being that if I tried anything romantic or sexual the visits together would stop and the outings were definitely not to be considered dates. We had barely kissed on the lips. I was due to take her to the airport at the weekend as she was going on holiday with family. I quickly opened a bottle of red and poured two glasses and took it through.

Honey accepted her glass, took a sip and put the glass down. “Eddie, there’s been a complication over the holiday.”

“Oh no! Can’t you go?” I knew she rarely took holiday since she and her X split. Putting everything into her job might have done her career good but I felt she worked too much.

“I could still go but it’s complicated. You know I was going with my 2 sisters, and brother in law Patrick?”

I did not know/remember, but confined my reply to, “Aha”.

“Well Patrick is in hospital. He had a small heart attack.”

“That’s terrible news, is he going to be all right?” I asked.

“They say because they got to him quickly he should make a complete recovery. He was told to lose 15 kilos and take some exercise if illegal bahis siteleri he did want a healthy future. Fat slob that he is,” she said affectionately. “However he’s got to stay in bed and be monitored at home and is in no condition to go on holiday. My sisters say they are both going to stay and take care of him so can’t go.”

I seemed to remember both her sisters lived close to each other.

“If I don’t go, I loose my money, and the holiday days at work were carried over so if I don’t take holiday in the next month the time is forfeit.” Then paused, wet her lips, her eyes darted about for a moment, “I can’t imagine going by myself somehow, I’m not the extrovert make friends quickly type of person.”

My first, admittedly very sexist thought, was that Honey did not need to be much of an extrovert to make friends, any hetero man or gay gal would be queuing to get to know her. My mind having started on her appearance continued to reflect on it. Even though Honey was extremely modest in her clothing and there was much of her body I had never seen it scored as a perfect 10 with me. My definition of a perfect figure for a woman is not big boobs, as I know many women suggested was the male definition. It is about proportions and curves. You can have a 5ft nothing beautiful womanly curvy figure who might only have 32″ chest and 20″ waste and on whom 40″ D cup breasts would be downright ridiculous and ugly, as some porn actresses have proven. Honey had a stunning figure, as long as you did not define beauty as like a fashion model, and what men did? That brought to my mind a theory a woman had once shared with me a long time ago. The suggestion was that fashion models were chosen for their boyish figures, tall and flat chested because all the fashion designers were gay. The thought still made me smile, even if now a politically incorrect observation. Honey was as tall as a model, I’d guess 5’10” maybe 5′ 11″. Unlike the fashion models, she was quite wide shouldered, and most definitely not flat chested. The size and what little I had seen of the shape of her breasts was a perfect match for her frame. What would have been excessive on a smaller woman was perfectly proportioned on her. Her waist was just right, not half starved, not fat. The sharp flare of her hips outwards was the frame creating the most womanly adorable backside. There is something truly wonderful about a woman’s body with the front curve outwards of the breasts, the side curve in of the waste and flare out of the hips and the curve at the back of the rear. This might partly be about sexual desire but goes way beyond. Honey was the most perfect example of the female body that I could ever remember seeing.

Pulling my thoughts back to her predicament. I sensed that she was neither one for a quick fuck after a few tequilas or a random holiday romance. Therefore it might not be the loneliness, rather the opposite that could cause her a problem, especially if the destination was anywhere with a lot of Latino males.

“No friend to take?” Sensing she was taking the conversation somewhere but I could not see where.

“Do you trust me? She asked now looking straight into my eyes.

“Yes,” looking straight back, even more mystified.

“That’s good because I trust you too or I would not ask. Would you like a holiday?”

“I couldn’t afford it, I’m out of a job, much as I’d love a holiday, most especially with you. I also don’t get the connection between trust and holidays.” I knew there was something else Honey was not saying.

“It’s like this. I’m inviting you on an all expenses paid holiday. It’s about enjoying the sun, meals, visiting interesting places, fun. But the fun that does not include sex.”

Why would I think it did, I wondered? She had been crystal clear about our ‘relationship’. I was about to say something, then she continued, “The reason I need to make no sex especially clear is that Patrick and Karly did have insurance so the other room we had booked is cancelled. My first thought was that this meant I had to go alone or cancel. But then, I thought, after all we’re both adults.” She paused, looked around a little, and then continued. “And I really enjoy your company. So, it should be possible to share a room. You have to understand, I do not want a relationship right now. I’ve never participated in sex outside of a relationship. Call me old fashioned if you like”, she finished with a slightly forced smile.

I had often wished there was some way I could make the relationship other than platonic. The honest truth though was that Honey was so gorgeous as to be way out of my league. I also knew that she’d been hurt by her X. Whilst having never gone into detail little things Honey said made that apparent. My divorce had not exactly been a bundle of laughs. Whilst hurt myself, and lonely now, it seemed not anything like as bad as had happened with Honey.

Quiet beauty, grace, was how I thought of her. Not necessarily turning heads everywhere she went. When you studied Honey, you saw beauty everywhere. Her face was strong boned. Her hair was a dirty blonde and quite long. She wore canlı bahis siteleri it pinned up for work but often left it loose at weekends. For work she used what for me was way too much makeup. I suspected this was maybe her armour, her protection in the business environment, or perhaps just expectation of others. When we had gone out at the weekends she wore almost no makeup. Once apologising for the lack, on one of our first joint outings. I had told her never to apologise because she was more beautiful without. There had been a slightly awkward moment then, but I think she accepted the comment as genuine and not a pass.

Thinking of her body my mind then turned to her choice of clothes. I had occasionally met her when she was still in business attire. Even for women’s professional attire it was conservative to the extreme. I was forced to admit that many men could not accept a woman could both be drop dead gorgeous and an intelligent professional at the same time. They had less problem with planer women in general. I speculated Honey’s dress was a reaction to this. I knew from experience many PR agencies had lots of women in junior position, sometimes used deliberately as eye candy, but very few up the food chain. Even with me though, on casual outings, Honey had not shown much skin even on hot days. Some of the fatter, older, mothers on the street tended their gardens in a bikini on a hot day whilst Honey wore old shirts and jeans when gardening.

I took her word that she was not likely to jump my bones, as in a late night fantasy or two I had experienced. Equally unlikely was a sudden development of wit by me that would charm her panties down her legs. So, accepting the offer of a shared room could be awkward, and sexually frustrating. But, I asked myself was I seriously going to turn her down?

“I’d like that very much, Honey”, I said.

“You do understand the terms, I would not want to ruin a good thing,” she emphasised.

“It’s a fact, I think you know or you would not be inviting me, that I would never force you to do anything, sexual or otherwise. Maybe as important, I would never deliberately do anything that I thought would upset or make you feel uncomfortable”, I replied quietly but nonetheless firmly.

Honey took a large drink of the wine then stood up. “I believe you. I would not be offering otherwise. If you’re sure, then I need to go sort stuff out for the morning. If you’re in tomorrow night let’s talk details then”. I went over, she stood, and I gave her a light hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Let’s talk tomorrow then “, I confirmed.

She left. I had the feeling after making the invite which was clearly a big deal for both of us, perhaps in different ways, she had not wanted to talk any more. I got that. It certainly left me plenty to think about.

In bed and thinking about being in a bedroom with Honey I became hard almost instantly. Telling myself it would not be like that, but at the same time could not help stroking myself and imagining her slowly stripping for me. Taking off a white blouse and large bra to reveal beautiful big breasts I got harder still. I imagined her wetting fingers in her mouth, rubbing and pinching one of her nipples till it was hard, seeing it darken in colour and sticking out proudly. Then Honey stuffing the nipple into my mouth and reaching inside my trousers for my hard cock whilst I suckled on the nipple. The scenario did not progress further because at that point, I came in torrents.

My X had left 3 years previous and my sex life had been limited and very occasional both before and since. I had the wry thought before drifting off to sleep of ‘good news – bad news’. Good news I was going on a free holiday to a warm place with a beautiful intelligent lady – bad news I could not expose that beauty to the light and delight in it (in literally). Oh well!

In the morning I rolled onto the still wet patch in the bed and remembered my thought before sleep. Telling myself that I was stupid and ungrateful. This wonderful woman, one of my few friends, was giving me a great opportunity and I was complaining because she was not offering sex as well. It also occurred to me that I did not even know the holiday destination. The thoughts of the previous night’s fantasy caused me to start getting hard again. With some effort I got up before I risked getting the bed in a worse shape. Around midday Honey texted to ask if 7pm suited at her place. She promised to have a glass of wine waiting. I accepted.

So, come 7, I crossed the street to her house, feeling I should be taking something to present to her. Chocolates, flowers maybe? But not knowing what to take I arrived empty handed. Honey opened the door and ushered me in wearing jeans and an old shirt, saying she had just needed to plant a bush she had been given in the garden. Apologising for her appearance and earthy hands. The shirt gave me a view of quite a lot of cleavage making me recall last night’s fantasy, somewhat to my shame. Explaining she would wash her hands and pour the wine whilst I took a seat. A minute later she came through with the promised glasses of wine. I noticed the shirt was now buttoned higher and wondered if she had caught me staring. One part of me said this was all rather school boyish – looking down the girls’ blouses and yet here I was, and that was what I had been doing. Get a life! I thought.

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