This is the sequel to A Summer Job: 1970s Style, where Wes was employed by the local Public Works Department doing various tasks including reading water meters. It was with one of these customers that he had wound up getting an extensive sex education to boot. Now it was his second year and he might not know it yet, but he still had much more to learn.
[Please note that there is no abusive content and that all characters, real or imagined, are over age 18.]
Here it is told in Wes's own words.
It was the summer between my sophomore and junior years in college. The situation wasn't much different than the previous summer, namely that I had a job doing various manual labor type tasks with the Public Works Department. My old buddy, Ken, was also back on the job and since it was our second year of doing this we weren't treated like the newbies any more. That doesn't mean that we were excluded from some of the lousy assignments like digging ditches, however. If you have read my previous stories you will recall that I did have several sexual encounters that were real eyeopeners. Of particular note there were days when I was assigned to read water meters and had on more than one occasion encountered a woman named Hillary who was always ready to provide yet another sexual adventure. This second year on the job was not going to prove any different.
It was a beautiful late spring day when again I took a book of accounts, a flashlight and one of the town pickup trucks to one of the neighborhoods to go door-to-door reading water meters. For the most part this is not a glamorous job because I had to knock on the door or ring the bell, announce myself as the meter reader, and once let in had to head to the basement where I'd record the numbers from the meter. And so it was, house after house.
The tedium of the day was broken when I approached Hillary's house where I could never be certain what was going to greet me. This time was no exception.
"Meter reader!" I called immediately after knocking on the door.
A minute or so passed until the inner door opened and there stood Hillary. It was no surprise either that she was wearing only a very short, filmy flesh colored nightie where I could easily make out the dark areolas of her boobs and the patch of pubic hair that covered her pussy.
"I was wondering when the town was going to get around to reading my meter. It's been too many months since I've seen you. And you are ever a sight for sore eyes!" she exclaimed.
"Hi, Hillary. It's good to see you, too," I said when my eyes were drawn to what looked like an oversized tummy.
"Just don't just stand there. Come in. We have a lot of catching up to do."
After my experiences last year, I had no idea what she meant by that, but was pretty certain that I was soon going to find out.
"I've been lonely. My husband is still doing a lot of traveling and I need someone to talk to but to also entertain. Don't let my tummy scare you. Yes, I'm pregnant and to the best of my knowledge it happened over New Years. I was drunk and at midnight we got laid without protection. The rest you can figure out."
I did some quick calculations and figured that she was five plus months pregnant and that she was clearly showing. "You're looking good," I said trying to make small talk.
