I was eighteen, and in the summer before I went to uni, I was working on garage fuel pumps in the days before self-service.
One of our regular customers was a lady in her mid-thirties whom I will call Vera. She always smiled and was very forward and provocative in the way she acted whenever I served her (with petrol, you understand). She would stick her shapely breasts out; make sure I got a good look at her beckoning bottom, etc.
I knew who she was because I sometimes saw her in town and knew about her family business, in which she took a large part. In town, there was a stationer who had an area catering to students for academic supplies. Exercise books, pencils, rulers, protractors, you name it, and during term time, I went to stock up every few weeks, once I started at age sixteen in the technical college. She was often there when I went shopping for whatever I needed. She always smiled and sometimes tried to talk to me. I was polite but made excuses and went on my way.
My studies took an enormous part of my time and mental capacity, and I never thought much about the lady. She had a boyfriend in the town, whom I knew ran a local business. I knew of him through summer activities at which they were sometimes together. He was much older than me and not one of my immediate pals. She was too old for me (so I thought in all innocence). Until that time, I had tried to avoid her.
Bert, the chief mechanic and garage manager, probably thought I was an innocent young lad, which was less than half correct. One day, she came in with a guy sitting in her car who wasn’t much older than me. I wondered who he was.
Vera was upset, and I overheard her as she said to Bert, “They are mad at me back home. They say he is way too young for me and I’m sex mad (and so forth).”
I served her petrol while this was going on and I pretended to ignore the guy in the car and the conversation. It was none of my business, but I was ‘all ears’ and I tried, successfully, I was sure, not to let it show.’
Bert, after she had left, said, “Peter, be careful. She likes her rhubarb.”
It so happened that at the moment I was serving her, one of my pals came by to check how the repair on his mother’s car was going. He must have seen what was happening and may have heard what was being said. We were in the local that evening (I was old enough to drink) when he talked about Vera.
He said, “It looked like she was away for a good screwing.”
“Have you had a crack at her?”
“No, she’s too old.”
“Just as well. Around here, everyone would know,” and I laughed, pretending not to be interested, and we moved on to something else.
But I was as randy as a billy goat and Vera might be an excellent screw, but I felt sorry for her regular boyfriend, Nigel, because it sounded like she was giving him more than a runaround. Why did he put up with it? Maybe he didn’t know, or more likely, he didn’t care. I liked him and didn’t want to upset him. But what bothered me most was that my parents, who were typically small-town and ultra-respectable found out if I went near Vera.
So I said to Bert, “The day I filled up Vera’s car, she didn’t appear to have any camping gear. I wonder where they were going.”
I don’t think he smelled a rat, because he said, “She’s got access to a holiday bungalow along the waterway from the Graseby sailing club, and probably goes up there for sex. Over the last few years, we have had to go out there twice and fix her broken-down car. It’s not far. She’s a cheapskate and doesn’t like to pay to have it serviced. You might have to take me, or someone else, up there one day. Do you know where it is?”
“Yes, because I know the way to the sailing club.”
“Good,” said Bert. “You never know with her.”
I thought, “Yes, and in more ways than one.”
Someone arrived and fortunately, interrupted our chat. I didn’t want Bert to cotton on. I put two and two together, and now understood why she hung around the ‘student’ area of the stationer, usually on Saturday afternoon. She hoped to attract the attention of a younger but 'of age' guy. Good luck with that one.
I had every Wednesday plus one afternoon as a break each week. Each Wednesday, I planned a day of activity, but the free afternoon depended on staff availability at short notice, which often meant I was at a loose end that day, because I never knew very far in advance which afternoon it would be.
I had an old banger for a car, good for a trip of perhaps fifty miles, but which I would not trust on a longer run. So the next Wednesday, I would drive up to the holiday bungalow on the chance that she might be there and see what came of it. If she wasn’t there, the sailing club would be open and there might be the chance of a sail and certainly of a beer or two, catch up on gossip, etc.
The next Wednesday, I drove the fifteen miles to the holiday bungalow area. I had some plastic mac with me in case ‘it’ happened. Be prepared. It was a lovely day and Vera was sunning herself on a lounger. I stopped as I saw her and said, “What a delightful surprise. Are you enjoying a break?”
Vera seemed pleased to see me, and she asked, “What brought you up here?”
So I spun the yarn about the day off, Graseby sailing club, chance of a sail, etc. She laughed and said, “Have you ever gone for a horizontal sail? Bring the car in here and park it behind the bungalow.”
Wow!
Inside the bungalow with her, before she got her gear off, I said, “Please, I hope you are not embarrassed, but if we have a relationship, please, don’t let it show in public. Discretion, to me, is all because of my family. Just tell me, if we have sex, please, can you keep it quiet and act with discretion about it? If you can’t, well, what do I do?”
“OK, I understand you. I never talk and what I guess bothers you is a display of familiarity or affection in public. If I see you in public, I smile and nod as if we know each other socially. I know who you are, of course. Once I have had a relationship with a younger guy, I never pester him and I wait to see if he comes back and wants a repeat session. Some do. Before the event, I’m a little silly, because if at first I don’t score, I keep at it until I do, and of course, that’s what people notice. Frankly, I don’t care what people think.”
“There are a few other places I look for you younger but ‘of age’ guys. You are all so fit and great performers. I don’t hang around in clubs or bars because I don’t want to be taken for a tart, which I’m not. I can’t help being so horny. The art college is a source of potential partners, and I give a weekly lecture on the art of moviemaking there in the evenings. This gets me a few screws, but a lot of the arty-farty types are wimps.”
“Vera, I know you’re not a tart, and I hope you don’t think I react to you as if you were?”
“Peter, no you didn’t. You behave like a very horny gent. Nigel just wants companionship. I behave perfectly in front of him and I don’t think he cares what I do behind his back. Peter, put your concerns behind you and let’s have a session.”
At least Vera was open about herself and so straightforward! I had heard no one admit to a relationship with her. It was her behaviour when she was ‘on the prowl,’ that attracted attention! Once our little chat was over, she broke the speed record for getting her gear off. We took showers, and I got out the little packet with the plastic mac in it, ready for action.
Vera saw it and said, “You don’t need it. I’ve had an implant,” and showed me the small scar inside her upper arm.
She was a natural blonde with nice firm breasts but was a little chubby with a definite tummy. So what? It’s natural. Vera was so horny, and there was no foreplay. It was my first screw of the summer, and I had to control myself as best as I could not to ‘explode on impact.’ She was soaking as I entered her.
Vera had an enormous orgasm and clung to me.
“Stay hard inside me as long as you can, please.”
I did so, kissing and licking her splendid breasts. My penis was responding to the continuing spasms of her vagina, which was commendably tight. She eventually uncoupled and went to lock the French doors. We had been at it with them unlocked! I went to clean up in the shower. Vera followed and took a pee on the loo, not bothered that I was there! She cleaned up, too. Back in the bedroom, Vera knelt on the side of the bed, bottom in the air. I could see some faint marks on it. What had caused those? I asked the question.
“Peter, you think I am the one who can be indiscrete? You must not talk about this, but I admit I’m kinky and I love to have my bottom given a good thrashing with a cane. This is one of only two places I can do it because of the noise. Look inside the wardrobe over there.”
I looked inside and some crook-handled canes were hanging from the rail.
“Have you ever received a caning, Peter?”
“Of course. A few times since I was sixteen.” It was the norm in those days.
“Would you like me to cane you?” Vera asked.
This was amazing! I had had fantasies about a caning session during sex and now it might take place with so little effort on my part.
“If you give me a caning, will it turn you on?”
“Yes, it’s an enormous turn-on for me and I want you to cane me next. After you have caned me, I hope you will want rough sex! I would love you to cane me good and hard, and you know what follows!”
“OK, I’m up for it as long as you don’t change your mind and complain that it was too hard!”
“Kneel on the bed, bottom up.”
Vera took a cane from the wardrobe. I felt it rest on my bum.
“Ready?”
“Yes.”
‘Whistle, crack,’ and my bum was on fire. It was at least as hard as any caning I got at school. This went on with Vera delivering a cane stroke about every twenty seconds. I counted up in my head, tried to keep still and not to yell. At six strokes, I thought she would stop, but no, she carried on. The pain built up, and I asked, “Please, leave a longer time between strokes. I’m in such pain.”
It carried on. I was going to ask her to stop at twelve cane strokes if she didn’t do so, and I kept counting. She stopped after stroke twelve and I thought it was over, but Vera said,
“Can you take a few more?”
“I don’t think I want any more.”
She got hold of my rigid penis and started masturbating me.
“I’ve got a twin cane. It’s very thin. Let me give you three on each side of the lower cheeks of your bum. It will hurt, but they will feel fantastic later on when you sit on them.”
Man up and take it.
“Ok, as you wish.”
She gave me the two sets of twin cane strokes. The thin rods caused an agonising sting, but the pain did not go so deep and faded faster after each stroke. I had taken twenty-four individual cane strokes, reckoning two cane strokes per stroke of the twin cane. As the pain translated into sensation, my erection returned.
“Vera, do you want sex or a thrashing, please?”
Without a word, she knelt on the bed, her bottom towards me.
“It’s up to you, Peter.”
This was the first time that I could cane a female, and I was certain that giving a caning would turn me on enormously and result in even better sex for the recipient.
“Vera, I will cane you first. But, please, how hard do you want it?”
“Peter, it must be a very hard one. If you do it right, I will have an orgasm. The pain does that to me. It may sound unusual, but that’s how I am. For sex, do the same thing, because I like moderately ‘rough sex.’ So, please, stick it to me good and hard.”
“OK. Prepare for a soundly thrashed bottom. I will start with six strokes and see how it goes from there.”
Silence.
I lined the cane up on her plump buttocks, lifted it back and struck forward with plenty of wrist action.
‘Whistle crack.’ The cane bit into the flesh of her buttocks and sprang back. Vera gasped and wagged her rump from side to side. I waited for her to calm herself, and when ready, repeated the action, increasing the force as my confidence in aiming the cane increased.
My aim was perhaps too good and the second stroke was almost on top of the first one.
Vera yelled and put a hand back to rub her bum.
“Naughty girl,” I said, “You will get an extra stroke if you rub.”
I lined up again and gave her a third stroke. She gave another yell and wagged her bum about. The cane marks on her bum were rising into purple welts. If Vera wanted it hard, so be it! I carried on like this until Vera had received six strokes. Her bottom was in the perfect position for a doggy screwing, so without asking, I got on board. I was as stiff as a caber. Her vagina was soaking and twitching from the caning. Vera climaxed before me, and I kept hammering away at her.
I could feel the end of my penis collide with her cervix because I was in so deep. I think she was in a delirium of pain and pleasure and it was less than a minute before I had an enormous orgasm. Her vagina was still in spasm and I knew she would appreciate it if I stayed stiff inside her for as long as I could remain stiff. Eventually, we separated, and Vera collapsed onto the bed, rubbing her bum.