The Arrangement
It was an accident, really. I'm a middle-aged guy, divorced from the witch of the world, with four grown kids who don't want to know me. Fortunately, there's Dot. She's blonde and petite and vivacious, and we met at work, by chance, really. I'd gone to the wrong conference room and interrupted a meeting. Glancing around the table, I knew my error and apologized, but I really was frozen to the spot as my eyes met hers.
Well, long story short, we started working together, dating, screwing, and ended up buying a nice little bedsit off the Droveway in Brighton. Dot still lived with her aging divorced father in Hove, and she wanted everything perfect in the new place before she moved in with me, so that left me alone with the new furniture, cozy fireplace, and a big grey tom cat named Scary.
Dot called me from her Dad's at every opportunity, and we did weekends together in London together or just taking in a movie locally, but I was still alone in the evening with my work on my computers and time to surf the Web for porn. Lots of porn. I have a whole computer full of porn of all types: photos, stories, videos. I especially like Japanese porn because they haven't forgotten it's all about the pussy. Dot hadn't a clue about any of it, dear girl. Meanwhile, my cock ached for action on a daily basis.
Now Dot had a girlfriend called Katherine that she met through a work acquaintance who shared a flat with Katherine.
I met Katherine about six months ago in a pub in Eastbourne. Dot and I had gone there to do some shopping; Dot had called her friend on her mobile, found she too was in Eastbourne on her day off, and agreed to meet us for lunch.
I was stunned. Katherine was gorgeous. She is of medium height with mischievous hazel eyes and a rosebud mouth, upturned at the corners, that begs to be kissed. Her long dark hair with chestnut highlights moves with her body in sensuous waves. Her breasts are nicely in proportion to her body, and her wide hips and little bump of a tummy promised comfort to a climax as I imagined myself lying naked on top of her, fucking away in her pussy. I meant to fulfil that promise. It was lust at first sight.
We met Katherine infrequently. She is single, divorced, and a church secretary with a very limited social life and a timid attitude to men. Certainly she treated me with a nervous friendliness as Dot's partner.
So Dot took her under her wing and began inviting her to family Christmas with us at Dot's Dad's place, and then arranging more time together in the shops and pubs along the coast, including birthday celebrations in our flat or in nice restaurants.
Sometimes Dot went off after work by herself to see Katherine while I fixed supper at home for Scary and me. Afterwards, Dot would call me to confide all the girly gossip.
Then one day, she giggled on about Katherine's "itchy" problem. They had been talking about their cunts. Dot's is dry, to go with her dry eye syndrome, which is why we don't screw much anymore. Too painful for her. Good thing she's one of the six percent of women who get off on having their nipples molested.
So she told Katherine about this problem over a pint, and Katherine, after a pause and a second pint, confided that she was gooey "down there" all right, in fact, downright itching for a fuck, but she was scared to pick up men in pubs.
Dot was eager to help and quite knowledgeable so she described for Katherine several types of dildos and vibrators and other ways to relieve one's feminine itch, but it gave me quite a turn to hear Dot tell it.
After I rang off with Dot, I found myself staring at porn actresses on my computer screen as they moaned and screamed their way through a vigorous fucking and imagined that the body in the video with the bouncing boobs and creamy vagina was Katherine. My lust for her was growing by leaps of the imagination to the point of being intolerable.
Dot and her Mum go off once a year to the Scottish highlands for a week's vacation, Dot to shop for woollens and her Mum to reminisce about her childhood in Cromarty. So there I was, alone with Scary again in the new flat, working on my computer—I'm a writer by trade—and masturbating to the hot sex I'd downloaded from the Internet. I have quite a collection of classic French porn movies.
Then one evening that week, I was contemplating another computer sex session and getting randy, when the doorbell rang. I was flustered to find Katherine standing hesitantly on my doorstep. I invited her inside and listened to her stammer that she had left an umbrella in our flat the week before when she visited.
She went on about the rain this June and how miserable it would be for the tourists and how the church was in an uproar about the sudden resignation of the minister, who had found he'd lost his faith after a mysterious trip to Dorset. Meanwhile, I was feverishly hoping that she couldn't see my erection making a tent in the front of my pants.
She suddenly stopped babbling and said, "I'm babbling on, I guess. Sorry." She looked away with an embarrassed smile and back at me.
"That's OK," I said. I didn't tell her that I'm very tolerant of women when I'm feeling randy. "But you might say 'hello' first."
She blushed. "Oh, right. Hello." She leaned forward to peck me on the cheek, the Dot-approved greeting we had settled on. Somehow, her lips slipped. Maybe it was my face that moved. We'll probably never know. Instead of my cheek, her lips met my lips, and I pressed home the sudden advantage, encircling her waist with my arms and pulling her body close. I felt her catch her breath and start to push me away. But as her hands came up against my chest, they relaxed and then rested on my shoulders. It was a long embrace and a deep kiss.
"Wow, what was that?" she said as we finally broke from the clinch, standing there in the June sunshine that came through the slit window beside the door.
