This tale takes place in that sadly very short, interval between the ready availability of the contraceptive pill and the outbreak of HIV and AIDS. It follows on from my lessons from Tante Marise and does not involve anyone underage at any point.
Having been relieved of my virginity by the lovely Gilly (see the story Hitch hiker) followed up by my french aunt, tante Marise, (a story of that name) I found myself in a strange county, surrounded by unfamiliar faces, and desperately craving some female company, particularly in my bed.
I had tried my hand, without much success, with some of the girls at work, but the all seemed to be husband hunting and none was after what I was after, a carefree shag or two.
It didn't take me long to realise that, so far, all my experience had been with older women. Older women who knew what they wanted and were willing to share their carnal desires with a younger, more innocent lad. Not that I was that innocent any longer but, as I was to soon learn, it didn't pay to advertise that fact.
All I had to do, I figured, is find a place where women of a certain age socialised and let nature take its course. I spent a long time wracking my brains until I found just such a place.
It was a rather posh looking bar where quite a number of people, men and women, who worked away from home Monday to Friday, went to unwind of an evening.
The typical scenario was that they arrived on Monday, stayed over until Thursday night and returned home after work on Friday. Perfect.
My initial efforts went unrewarded because of poor planning, but I was still learning! Monday nights were a dead loss as were Thursdays, because thoughts of home were far too present, so it had to be Tuesday or Wednesday.
A lot of empirical research had gone into getting me to this stage, but by now I knew my target group were the late thirty to forty somethings.
This makes me sound predatory, but nothing could be further from the truth. I had learned that looking the younger innocent figure went down so much better than the macho strutting about, which I witnessed in said bar. They failed time after time.
Not that my story faired much better initially. In fact the first encounter was a complete disaster. I had on smart trousers and a crisp white shirt, no tie, and the cuffs turned up to the second fold. Well it was the seventies!
Sitting alone in a small alcove sipping a very thin G and T, well you don't want alcohol causing problems if you strike gold! It wasn't long before I was approached, unfortunately by a man.
He was very charming, introduced himself, and started chatting. Soon even I realised that he was looking for what is now called gay fun, bearing in mind that the term gay was not yet in use and the actual act was still illegal.
Trying not to offend, I dropped several hints into the conversation. I commented on the figures of one or two of the female customers, hinted at my carnal desires, until he took the hint, made his excuses, and left.
Shortly after that a female voice stirred me from gazing into the fast melting ice cube in my G and T.
"I see you met Jeremy then." Said the voice. Looking up I saw the face of a woman, very much in my target age group. Again it sounds predatory but I wanted to appear to be the prey not the predator.
"Sorry?" I stumbled.
"Jeremy," she repeated, "he works in our main office and spends a lot of time in here looking for new, shall we say, friends."
Not really knowing what to say I just smiled inanely at the face before it said, "may I join you?"
I mumbled an apology, stood up, and introduced my self saying something banal about being glad of the company and noting the cluster of rings on her other hand.
She sat down beside me. So far so good! Christeen wore her dark hair in a shortish bob, which emphasised the roundness of her face, in turn set off by oversize earrings and a pair of red, square framed, glasses, altogether a very attractive picture.
"I'm surprised you haven't heard of Jeremy before," she offered as she laid a hand, conspiratorially on mine. It felt soft and full of promise, especially accompanied by a slight twinkle in her eyes.
We swapped pleasantries, talked a little about her work, and chatted generally, before I noticed her glass was empty and offered her a refill, which she readily accepted.
The conversation flowed easily, as did the gin. Words were beginning to slur, particularly from her direction and the number of accidental touches increased at the same rate.
"You're not trying to get me tipsy are you!" She said, more as a statement than a question. A hand now rested on my thigh and the broad smile on her face was magnified by those wonderful glasses.
I smiled back and said hesitantly, "Of course.........." Delaying just a fraction too long before adding, "not."
"Well I think I've had a little more than strictly necessary, so I best be on my way." Lifting her palm from my thigh leaving a warm sensation behind.
I must have looked as crest fallen as I actually was, when she countered with.
"Would you consider escorting a vulnerable lady to her flat and protecting her from the ne'er do wells? It's only a five minute walk."
Bingo!
We got up and set off. As soon as we were outside she looped her arm in mine on the pretext of feeling 'just a little' unsteady. And, true to her word, we arrived at her flat in under five minutes, even with the alleged unsteadiness.
"That was very kind," said the voice in the darkness, fumbling with her keys, "could you do that for me please?" I turned the Yale key in the door and held it open.
"Can't let you go without at least a coffee. Come up?" This was more of a command than a question.
This is what I was there for. My target, or at least one of a selection, had chosen me. Obviously away from home, obviously married and equally obviously flirtatious. I was the bait and the prey, but this particular prey definitely wanted to be caught.
"Sounds great." Was all I said, before being, almost forcefully, ushered into her cozy flat.
"The kettle is under the cupboard with the gin in it. I'll have a G and T, your choice is up to you." I poured two G and Ts, or more accurately one G and T and one tonic. I had a feeling things were going my way, and much as I love gin, I love fornication even more.
Handing her the one with gin in it she said bluntly, "Now that you've got me here, what are you planning to do?"
I didn't need any more encouragement, I lent forward and kissed her softly on the lips, not a lingering kiss just a soft 'lip to lip with intent' sort of kiss, which gave rise, much to my delight, to a murmur of approval, or at least I took it as such.
"Hmmmm, promising, very promising......" was her response.
"Come over here and do that again."
I took the gin glass from her, 'accidentally' brushing a breast as I did so. There was something very erotic about touching a breast with the back of my hand. It's hard to explain but it is a mixture of forbidden pleasure and the promise of more, my cock started to stir.
I put her glass down on the side table, leaned forward to kiss her again and placed my hand deliberately on her breast.
We now both know exactly where this is going, but I still want her to think it's her idea.
We kissed a bit more passionately and she allowed my hand to enter the front of her blouse to discover the clasp of a front opening bra. I was not familiar with this arrangement, but fortunately it just popped open without a hint of a struggle.
A full, warm breast delivered itself into my waiting palm as our tongues danced around in each other's mouths.
"Let's get more comfortable." Was her suggestion as she stood up, took my hand and led me to the bedroom. Standing by the bed she turned towards me and glued her mouth to mine as her hands slid over my buttocks.
Then one hand made its way round to my front and discovered my erection, whereupon she set about undoing my belt.
"Well, someone's pleased to see me!"
My trousers fell to the floor in a heap as I undid the buttons of her blouse, and got my first glimpse of her full mature breasts, with their pronounced areolae and, as I stroked, her stiffening nipples.
"I can't very well pretend I don't like that!" She smiled as her nipples erected, giving her away, and she set to work on my shirt, which simply fell off my shoulders. I slid her blouse off hers and her bra followed with a simple shrug.
