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It was all about the hands

She made me make a solemn promise not to enter her body

We were laying contentedly in each others arms, emotionally and sexually exhausted, when she dropped her unwelcome bombshell. “I don’t know how to say this Rob, I’ve being trying to for a while, but we are going to have to stop all this- and I mean a clean break from today.”

“What…why?” I exclaimed, automatically hugging her beautiful warm body even closer to mine. My mind was racing, wondering what had prompted this devastating revelation. Had I done something wrong? Was she bored or fed up with our relationship? Or perhaps her husband had found out about us! “Why, what’s wrong Helen?” I asked in desperation.

Just minutes before we had been all over each other, culminating in my coming against her tummy as she flicked my nipples with her nails, shooting a joyous load up onto her breasts, and the side of her neck; her laughing- and grabbing a paper tissue from a box on the bedside table to catch it before it ran onto the pillow. Such ecstasy, to be shot down in flames minutes later. What had gone wrong?

“It’s nothing to do with us, I mean nothing has gone wrong between us, but we knew it couldn’t last forever. Now Peers has been posted to a high profile job with the EU in Brussels, so we’re letting our house and leaving at the end of the month. I think it’s probably for the best anyway. What we do together has been fantastic, but I love this far too much, and it’s beginning to affect what’s left of my marriage. I’ve got to think about the boys, I can’t risk harming them. There is another big consideration in addition which I can’t tell you about. Ours has been a very odd relationship anyway you must admit.”

I was still trying to take all this in. Yes, I knew it couldn’t last, and yes it was an odd, but very wonderful relationship, now it was coming to a sudden and unwelcome end. As she snuggled into my neck I could feel her tears running into a little pool in my shoulder hollow, so I had no doubt about her sincerity in what she said about loving our time together. I was lost for words as I kissed her lovely hair. We cuddled for ages, our sticky naked bodies entwined like a grape vine clinging to its support, neither wanting these last loving moments to end. Whilst we clung desperately together, my mind recollected and remembered all the delicious times that we had had over the last six months.


Yes it had been an odd relationship. It had come about through hurt, guilt, and natural affection. Hurt on my part that my wife Sarah, had quite suddenly up and left me after ten years of marriage; guilt on Helens part, that she had been inadvertently instrumental in the break up; and a natural, and quite innocent affection that Helen and I had always had towards each other.

Sarah and Helen had worked together in advertising, and had been best friends for years. When they weren’t working they would shop and socialise together, much like sisters. We were childless, (by Sarah’s choice) whilst Peers and Helen had two lovely little boys of five and six. We had tried socialising as a foursome, but it hadn’t worked out. He worked in the middle echelons of government, the Foreign Office I think, and was such a pompous pratt.

Peers and Helen were definitely the golden pair, looking more like film stars than anything. He was a bit short but had super star looks, and women found him irresistible. Helen was simply gorgeous, tall and shapely in a Nigella Lawson way. In fact she could almost have been her look-alike, except that she was fair blonde. I once said to her that she should have been a model. She laughed and said that she was too shapely to model normal clothes, and not fat enough to model oversize. She added that she could always model oversize bras, but she’d stick to the side of advertising she was on, rather than in front of a camera. My mind boggled a bit at that thought.

Whilst I had been relatively content in our marriage, Sarah had turned quite indifferent towards me within a few years, my fathering instinct, contrasting starkly to her complete lack of mothering inclination. It wasn’t just that she didn’t want children, she actively disliked them, something that she had hidden from me throughout our courtship and early-married life. She even made me suffer the indignity of a sperm fertility test, before I found out that’s he had never come off ‘the pill’ as agreed. One day when I accidentally dropped my razor in the bathroom bin, I found an empty blister pack of Mycrogynon. Thinking that Sarah might have some form of illness, I looked up the drug on the Internet, and found it to be a version of the pill. We gave up arguing about it because she was quite adamant, and it became a standoff stalemate. She threw herself into her work and social life, some of it with Helen, and I became more involved in my work.

Helen and I had a great deal in common, and I loved playing games with her boys whenever she brought them to us. I owned and ran a private sports centre, and Helen was a fitness freak, so our paths crossed quite often. We would always greet each other with a hug or a kiss on the cheek, and if I was lucky, both. I’m not claiming to be ‘the innocent’, because she was fit and gorgeous. I loved any physical contact with her, but it was she who would cause that hug to last a little bit longer, or that kiss to be a little more intimate. I shall never forget one Christmas kiss, which turned into a massive snog, with her hips pressing hard against mine. A one off which I put down to the joviality of the occasion, combined with the drink, but it certainly left a lasting impression on me.

She had first started coming to the gym to get her figure back shortly after giving birth to Thomas, their youngest, and she was a voyeurs dream. It was quite comical to see men’s reactions to her when she worked out, especially on the treadmill, even with the baby next to her in his cot/carrier. They would all gravitate to her side of the hall, and gawp at her whilst pretending to work out, mesmerised by her generally, and by the movement of her heavy breasts particularly. She knew the effect she was having, and didn’t seem to mind, but it became such a problem that I had to warn off a couple of the guys. Their attitude when I spoke to them was, ‘do you really blame us’. No I didn’t, she was an amazing sight, but some of the ‘lesser’ females were beginning to notice, and I sensed a third party harassment claim might be imminent on her behalf.

We both knew that a sweaty gym wasn’t the ideal place for a young baby, but she didn’t have much choice until I suggested one day that she left him in the office with Mary, my middle aged receptionist/secretary. She did, and both Mary, a mother of four teenagers, and I, loved every minute of our time with Thomas. Not much work got done when the baby was there, and we even took him for a short walk on a couple of occasions. What an odd couple we must have looked, but we didn’t care.

Once when the baby was fast asleep, I remarked to Mary what a contented little thing he was.

She smirked at me as she said, “Well wouldn’t you be if you had what he gets every four hours, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the size of her, I’m surprised the poor little soul doesn’t get smothered!”

Our futures changed quite dramatically one spring a few years later, when Peers and Helen were due to go on holiday to a friend’s villa in Cyprus. They were leaving the children with their grandparents, which Sarah thought unusual, and hinted that it might have something to do with them re-kindling their marriage. She said that Peers had a history of office affairs, and this was a ‘last chance’ reconciliation. I knew absolutely nothing of this, and I found it more than incredible that any man would risk a marriage to such a wonderful girl and two beautiful kids. Double pratt then, with a capital P! At the last moment a governmental crisis demanded Peers presence, so Helen asked Sarah to go with her rather than waste the tickets and the holiday.

When the fortnight was over and the two girls returned, I could immediately see a significant change in both of them, beside the obvious glow of a healthy tan. However, the changes were significantly contrasting between the pair. Collecting them from the airport Helen was very reserved in her greeting, and avoided my eye when I asked her about her holiday. When I commented she blamed tiredness from an early morning flight, and jetlag. ‘Unlikely on a four hour flight within nearly the same time zone’, I thought. Sarah by contrast was happy and positively glowing. If I had not been so busy supervising a complete refurbishment of the gym at the time, I might have thought about the significance of these contrasting attitudes more thoroughly.

During the following weeks Sarah seemed withdrawn, and once or twice I saw her furtively texting on her I-phone, which never left her side. She had always been a keen artist, and said that she had booked a long weekend on a watercolour-painting course in Suffolk.

Two weeks after her return from the course she left me for good, explaining in a short note that she wanted more from life than her current dull existence was giving her. She said that she hated the constant underlying pressure to have kids, and she was going abroad.

I can’t say truthfully that I was devastated, but I was disappointed in Sarah, and in myself for not seeing the obvious signs of what had been happening under my nose. It didn’t take me long to discover that, although the Suffolk painting course had existed, Sarah had been elsewhere, and that going abroad meant Cyprus. Thinking back to the return from their holiday, I surmised that Sarah had enjoyed a holiday romance, and that it had continued to a deeper level during the previous two months. Perhaps that also explained Sarah’s complete disinterest in sex with me during that period.

I had hardly seen Helen since the Cyprus holiday, as if she was avoiding me, so there was another clue to support my theories on what had happened on that Mediterranean Island. I really needed some answers, but I couldn’t call her at home because I didn’t want to speak to Peers if he answered. So I texted her, simply asking her to meet and talk. She agreed to meet in a local café, but I could almost read the reluctance within her reply.

We met in the neutral surroundings of a local ‘Costa’, and the greeting was more of an air kiss than anything. Her tan had faded to a beautiful tint, and she looked absolutely gorgeous. Conversation over the first cup of coffee was very stilted, but it soon became obvious that Helen blamed herself for much of what had happened on holiday. As she reluctantly told me of Sarah’s affair with a rich local hotel owner by the name of Marcario, she ended every sentence with ‘sorry’.

She said that it had started on day two of the holiday, when a pair of handsome Greek Cypriots had come on to them in a bar. By the end of the evening she had had quite enough fending off groping hands under the table, and forcefully declined an offer of a drive back to the villa. She said that the guy was very handsome, but she had no intention of having a quick holiday affair. Sarah’s intentions were the exact opposite, and she hadn’t returned to the villa until five in the morning. From that point on they saw very little of each other, as Sarah spent every night with Marcario at his hotel. Her words were continually interjected with apologies.

I could see that Helen was finding it very difficult explaining her best friends infidelity to me, possibly her closest male friend. I was finding it no easier hearing about my wife’s torrid sexual encounter, even though Helen was trying her best not to give too much detail, attempting to mitigate the obvious hurt. Over a second cup of coffee she told me that she also knew that Macario had visited the UK, and that they had spent a weekend together.

“Sorry," she said for what seemed the hundredth time. “If only I hadn’t taken her on holiday none of this would have happened. Ironically that holiday was intended to be for the regeneration of our love, not to destroy someone else’s marriage. I really am so sorry, not only for you and your situation, but I should have told you. I’ve felt so guilty over the last weeks. You really are a very good friend, and I should have at least hinted what was going on with Sarah.”

“Absolutely not!” I said with feeling. “Sarah has been your best friend since the year dot; I’m sure that you genuinely felt you couldn’t betray her trust, however bad you felt about my situation. No, don’t feel guilty please, you have nothing to apologise for; that’s the last thing I want, I can see the agony in your face. I shouldn’t have let things become so bad between us, and if I hadn’t been so totally engrossed with the refurbishment I should have seen the obvious. It was bound to have happened at some time in the future anyway, you know that children, or lack of them, was always the basis of our problems.”

The relief positively flooded through Helens beautiful face, and tears pooled in her eyes. She took my hand from where it had been positively crushing my empty coffee cup, and held it tenderly in hers. I took her other hand in mine, and we sat linked across the table, me trying to see her face, whilst she looked down at our hands.

Then she said the strangest thing, totally out of context with what had just been said. “ I love your hands, I always have, they’re beautiful, more like a woman’s."

I really had nothing to counter that with. I was a keen amateur pianist, and I had always looked after my hands. Sarah had once commented that I had extraordinarily long fingers, but I hadn’t given it another thought. “Well you’re welcome to hold them whenever you like, come on I’ll walk you back to your car.”

We walked back through a small park bathed in sunshine, and she visibly relaxed, slipping her hand easily into mine as we ambled along. We walked around the park three times, laughing more each time we passed the exit for another lap. When we eventually reached her car she said, “ Thanks for being so understanding. I know the business with Sarah wasn’t my fault, but I did really feel guilty about not telling you, or at least give you a hint. I’ve lost my best friend for ever I think, so I guess I’ll have to make do with you instead,” she smiled. “Don’t get all down and lonely, you know where I am, and you only have to text.”

I said, “I’ll settle for being your best friend, and you must come down to the gym soon and try out some of the new high tech machines we’ve just installed.”

“Will do, soon.”

I went to kiss her on the cheek, but she turned her face towards me so that our lips met softly, and lingered for a few seconds.

As she drove off in her little Mini I thought, ‘Well if that’s what best friend status means, I’ll settle for that’! This was followed immediately by the realisation that I was thinking of a friend giving me a passing kiss, rather than the loss of my wife after ten years of marriage.

Time to make decisions. I phoned my solicitor and asked him to begin divorce proceedings. I then texted Sarah and told her what I had done, adding that whatever the cause it would be a 50/50 settlement all the way. She didn’t reply, although I knew that she watched her Iphone religiously.

Even though I was busy at the gym I couldn’t get Helen out of my mind. I realised that I was acting like an adolescent, after all we were just very good friends; we hadn’t got past holding hands and light kissing. I desperately wanted to see her again, if only to repeat our last meeting, but I was conscious of what she had said about the delicate position she and Peers were in. I genuinely didn’t want to be instrumental in complicating that situation.

A couple of weeks later, just as I was walking out of the gym foyer she walked in, not in her sports kit, but in a light summer skirt, with a gypsy style top gathered above the bust, and she was quite obviously braless. Two men walking out ahead of me saw this amazing sight as well, and as their heads turned, one tripped over the heels of the other and stumbled into a big potted plant. The faller was embarrassed, whilst the other couldn’t take his eyes off Helens top.

Helen kissed me on the cheek, and said, “Come on I’m taking you to lunch, I haven’t seen you recently, even though I’ve been down here several times, hoping. Then I was talking to Bill (mutual friend) last week, and he said that you seemed quite low and miserable, even refusing to go out for a drink.”

Had she really said ‘hoping’ at the end of that sentence, or had I misheard! I made some pathetic comment, and delighted with the prospect of her company for a couple of hours, we walked towards her car. She laughed when I had difficulty folding my big 6’4” frame into her mini, and then slipped her heels off to drive barefoot.

“At least I can wear these when I’m out with you,” she said holding up one of her shoes, “I always have to wear ‘flats’ with Peers for obvious reasons. I must have twenty pairs, and I hardly ever get to wear them; they make me feel really elegant.”

I could have said ‘you would look elegant; incredible; beautiful; gorgeous; fantastic, in anything’, but it would have sounded corny, so I just returned her smile and drank in her lovely presence. What on earth did I do to deserve her company; I wasn’t bad looking in a rugged sense, but she was so far out of my league as to be on another planet. Just be grateful and enjoy it I thought.

We drove quite a long way out to a country pub by a beautiful canal, and had a surprisingly good ‘ploughmans’ alone in a cosy side room of the bar. We chatted generally about my newly styled gym, the boys, and then about my predicament with Sarah. I told her that I had started divorce proceedings, and that they were likely to go ahead unchallenged. I said that I really missed Sarah, and that, yes, Bill was right, I hadn’t been feeling on top of the world since she left.

The ice had been broken, and the floodgates opened as we chatted quite openly about our relationships. What Sarah had told me about Peers had only scratched the surface. Helen told me that in addition to his affairs, he was at this moment being investigated for alleged sexual harassment in the office, by the one and only girl who didn’t appreciate his predatory advances; others were likely to jump on the bandwagon. She said that he had just been detached to the Washington embassy for a month, presumably to get him out of the way during the investigation. Normally it was the girl who was moved, which was very sexist, but on this occasion the scandal was too big, and the cause itself had been removed.

She said that she wouldn’t miss him anyway; he’d been banished to the spare bedroom for months, and it would stop his constant pestering. He was probably screwing some little tart in the Washington office by now anyway. I sensed that she was resigned to his infidelity, but I didn’t pry into why she put up with it, and didn’t leave him. There might have been extenuating circumstances, which kept them together, not the least of which might be the boys.

We left the pub, and it was such a beautiful afternoon that I suggested a walk by the river. I didn’t want or need to go back to work; more relevantly I loved Helen’s company, and I didn’t want our time together to end. She obviously felt the same, because she smiled and took my hand as we walked along the towpath. We dropped hands, and walked on with our arms around each other’s waists for a while. When the path suddenly became too rough for Helen’s heels, we stopped and kissed. It wasn’t like the intoxicated, wanton desperate kiss of Christmas, but soft gentle and caring. As she put her arms round my neck her breasts lifted and squashed warmly against my chest, and it was all I could do to keep my hands from moving up from her waist to hold them.

We walked back in silence for a while, me feeling like I was walking on air. A man walking in the opposite direction with a little dog, got himself caught up in its lead as he goggled at Helens chest, followed shortly behind by a teenage jogger who nearly ran into the canal as he lost concentration. I wished in a way that I had their view, but I could see enough looking sideways to see the delightful swinging movement of Helens breasts. They were too big to jiggle, and I thought quite amazing for a women who had two children; the hard work in the gym was obviously paying off.

Perhaps emboldened by our unexpected kiss, I said, “Do you remember when we met in the café, you suddenly saying how you loved my hands, always had?”

“Ye….s,” she replied, obviously wondering what was coming next.

Without looking at her I said, “I hope you’re not going to be offended, but I love your breasts, always have, they’re beautiful, like a real woman’s.” She didn’t respond, so I quickly added, “It’s just that seeing them today like that, moving around in your top, they’re rather devastating; you’ve normally got them tightly harnessed in the gym, and even then you delight the men, and upset the women! You should hear the comments I’ve overheard about them in the changing rooms.”

“ Oh, go on, do tell, please. I’m not bothered about hat the say, I just want to hear you talking about them.”

Well, I can’t tell you most of the comments because I’d embarrass both of us, but along the lines of, ‘did you see the effing tits on that’; God, I wouldn’t mind coming off between her pair’; that sort of thing, and those are some of the more innocuous comments, I wouldn’t dare tell you the rest. Someone said you looked just like Lorna Morgan, and another said you were sex on legs.”

Helen actually blushed, “Who’s Lorna thingy, am I supposed to know her?”

“I doubt it. Morgan, you’ll have to google her like I did, and lets just say she’s a well built Welsh model.”

She laughed, “Well I’m glad you appreciate them anyway, I’ve noticed everyone in the gym looking at them except for you; I was beginning to think you didn’t like big ones, anyway Sarah wasn’t exactly flat chested was she. I have to admit I did dress just for you today, heels and all. What with lovely hands and bouncing breasts, this could turn into a mutual admiration society.” She laughed, “I think we’d better get onto safer ground, here’s the car.”

We drove back chatting about more mundane things, and when we parked Helen turned to me and took my hands in hers. We seemed to be doing a lot of handholding; I could get used to this. Very quietly she said, “Rob, I’ve really enjoyed your company, and I hope we can do this again. This isn’t a reaction to what’s going on in my marriage at the moment, nor is it borne out of sympathy for what’s happened with Sarah, but as I said to you before, don’t be lonely. I’m here for you as a good friend, and if you, well you know, get desperate and need a hand, I’m here for that as well.”

I opened my mouth and nothing came out. My mind simply wouldn’t take in what my ears thought they had just heard!

She started the engine, “And yes. I did mean that, it would be my pleasure. Now go, I’ve just realised the time, and I’m going to be late picking the boys up from school, bye.”

I shut the door and she roared off with a wave, leaving me as if I had just discovered that I had won millions on the lottery. No better than that, my mind was in overdrive just thinking about what this fantastic women, beautiful beyond my wildest dreams, had just offered. Bloody hell!

For the next week I didn’t really know what to do. I’ m sure that half the time I was walking around in a pre-occupied dream, with those words going round in my mind; ‘Need a hand’. I still couldn’t quite believe it! I checked the attendance records, and Helen had been to the gym twice, and I had missed her on both occasions. Had she come hoping to meet me? I’m not naturally shy, but on the other hand I didn’t want to push it; I knew I had to leave the next move to her. Maybe she had said those things in the heat of the moment, and had thought better of it.

A few days later I saw a text from Helen, and nearly dropped my phone in my hurry to open it. ‘Got 2 comp tickets for open air concert @ Stangate Hall this Wed 7pm. Formal, blk tie. You want? If so better meet there. xxx H.’ I had never got used to text speak, so it took me a few moments to decipher her message. I didn’t hesitate with my reply, but didn’t return the kisses or sign off in case anyone read her messages.

That Wednesday I couldn’t concentrate on work, so I had a long gym session myself, showered and went back to my little office. When I walked in Mary said,“ What’s the matter with you today Rob, the work you left me was all gibberish, and you look like a vacant teenager with a permanent grin on his face.”

I totally surprised her by giving her a peck on the cheek, saying, “Look after things, it’s about time I gave you a rise,” and walked out.

That lovely warm late summers evening, I arrived at the Hall car park just as Helen was getting out of her car. She looked fantastic in a long, black, sleeveless formal evening gown Her hair was styled on top of her head, making her look even taller. Looking her levelly in the eyes, she gave me a devastating smile. I presumed that this combination of hair and heels was a rare treat for her, which would have looked ridiculously comical next to Peers. She was wearing a large pashmina shawl around her shoulders covering her bust, but it didn’t stop male eyes gravitating in her direction as we took our seats.

Her first words to me were, “We’re going to have to be careful. Unfortunately this isn’t the best of places for us to meet as it happens. I’ve already seen a couple of people Peers and I know, so don’t even hold my hand, just act like a chaperone; sorry.”

Surprisingly I didn’t mind at all, considering my excited anticipation. I was very happy just to be with her.

As the concert started and the evening light faded, I could feel Helens warm thigh as she moved it to touch mine. She leaned towards me and whispered, “ You remember the other day I said I’d give you a hand, and I meant it, but at the moment it’s me needing yours, this is really frustrating”. There was nothing either of us could do.

After the interval as the flood lights dimmed, Helen took off her shawl despite the cooling temperature, folded it, and placed it on her lap. After a while, seeing those around us concentrating on the orchestras performance, she took my hand and slipped it under the shawl onto her tummy. I tried to hide my excitement as I looked across at Helens profile. She was facing straight ahead, and her eyes were tightly closed. As I discreetly manoeuvred my hand lower she opened her legs very slightly, enough to loosen her dress, and I felt the heat of her crotch in my hand. She opened her legs as wide as she dared, and I stroked her with my forefinger.

We stayed like that for a long time, with me touching her through the material of her dress, whilst she pressed her hands down harder and harder on top of the shawl. I looked at her face again, and this time her eyes were open but staring, and her lips were slightly parted. I was hard as a rock and uncomfortable in my trousers, but could do nothing.

I pulled my hand out quickly as the concert finished, and the lights came up; neither of us had noticed the performance ending. We sat for a time as those around us left, trying to calm ourselves. I don’t know what my face looked like, but Helens face was flushed, and there were little beads of moisture on her top lip.

As we walked back through the parked cars Helen said, “God, that was wonderful Rob, sorry I couldn’t do anything for you, and you must be frustrated to hell. We can’t do anything here, and now we shall have to leave in our own cars, otherwise we’ll get locked in.”

I had an idea. “Wait here.” I found the car park attendant, and asked him if he would leave the barrier closed but un-padlocked as he left. He had a, ‘more than my jobs worth Guv’, look on his face, which quickly turned into an accepting grin as I slipped a £20 note into his shirt pocket.

“Like another walk by the river,” I said to Helen as I returned.

It wasn’t actually a river, but a beautiful man made lake shimmering in the pale moonlight. We walked hand in hand full of anticipation, and stopped under the darkness of a massive Oak tree. We immediately started kissing feverishly, and my hands went straight to her breasts, cupping them underneath and feeling their solid weight. She had one hand on my bottom, and the other went down between us, feeling my hardness on the outside of my trousers. She gasped as she broke off the kiss.

I stopped in the middle of trying to undo the zip of her dress. “You OK?"

“Yes, sort of,” she said breathlessly. “This may sound daft, but I’m a bit nervous now it’s come to it, especially as I’ve been teasing you all evening. I literally haven’t done anything like this since I married, that’s eleven years ago, then I felt the size of you and I got the wobbles. I knew…sorry, you’re huge, well compared with anything I’ve ever touched before.”

I tried to ignore the slip of the tongue. “It’s okay, take your time, or stop completely if you want to. I’m very excited, but I’m not going to pressure you,” I said, pulling her zip back up to emphasise my intentions.

“No, it’s okay, I really want to do this for you, but please don’t undo my dress or try to touch me down there again tonight. Sorry, I’ll explain later,” With that she unfastened my belt, unzipped me, and gently pulled me out of my trousers. “ Oh my God you’re so big, it almost needs two hands,” and she started to wank me tenderly and slowly.

I was still holding her breasts, and tucked my head into her neck as she rubbed me faster. It was absolutely amazing, and I knew I couldn’t last long in those soft tender hands. She held my balls gently in one hand, while sliding her other up and down my shaft. I could feel myself coming as my hips started to jerk forward involuntarily, and I moaned. “Oh Helen, please, I’m coming, mind your dress!” She moved slightly to my side and continued wanking me as I exploded, shooting into the space where she had just been standing. I spurted again and again. Oh, the ecstasy and the relief, I was breathless.

She continued to hold me lovingly for minutes as I slackened, “Wow, fantastic, you really needed that didn’t you; everything about you is big, isn’t it! Can I have your hanky, it’s all up my arm, but I think you missed my dress; I’d have had a bit of difficulty explaining that lot to the babysitter.” She laughed, and kissed me as she wiped herself, still holding me in her other hand as if she didn’t want to let go.

As we ambled back to the cars with our arms linked, I thanked her several times, and each time she smiled and squeezed my arm. We kissed for several minutes as I casually squeezed her lovely bottom. Was there any part of her that wasn’t beautiful to see and touch?

“No time now,” she explained, “I’ve got to get home for the babysitter, but I’ve got a lot of explaining to do, and things to tell you. Can we meet tomorrow lunchtime in our favourite little park near the Costa, I need to unburden myself.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant, but I agreed, and we kissed again like lovesick teenagers. She drove off, and in my euphoria I only just remembered to padlock the barrier as I left. I drove home in a daze, not believing what had just happened in Helens hands; how could any man be that lucky. ‘Why me’? I kept asking myself. I thought I would never get to sleep that night, but once I did I slept like a log.

Next morning when I went to work Mary immediately said, “You’d better be serious about that raise Rob, you look just like the cat that got the cream, and I know who she is!” Seeing the shocked look on my face she added, “don’t worry, good luck to you I say, no one deserves it more than you after what you’ve been through, and I won’t be telling.”

“How… who…how do you know? You’re kidding me.”

“Well, the ‘who’ is the most beautiful woman ever to enter this building, besides me of course.” She laughed, “and the ‘how’ is the way she looks at you every time you’re close to each other. I can see the scepticism on your face- no really, she does. I know love when I see it.”

I left the office shaking my head. Christ was I that transparent, but Mary’s words left a warm feeling inside me. How could Mary see what I couldn’t? Again, and again and again, why me? She could have virtually any man on this planet, yet she was choosing me, and she had spent eleven years, wasted years, with that two timing little prick. Maybe literally, little prick, I wasn’t that much bigger than ‘normal’, was I?

I worried all the way to ‘our’ park at lunchtime. Worried about whether she would be there, and what things she had to tell me. She walked in ahead of me unaware of my presence, and I wondered at her long legs in a short flared skirt. As she turned and saw me, she beamed a smile that could have melted a dozen hearts. I was so pleased, as I kissed her and returned her greeting. She said that she wanted to walk, and explained that some of the things she wanted to say might be embarrassing for her, for me, or for both; she might not be able to look me in the eye. ‘Curiouser and curiouser’, as the saying goes!

“First I need a solemn promise from you,” she said, as she linked her arm through mine. “An absolute gold plated promise, please."

“Anything,” I said, rashly, “I promise,” thinking this might be something about not telling Peers.

“Okay, I trust your promise absolutely. Well let me start by saying how much I enjoyed last night. I’ve wanted to do that to you for such a long time, even before Sarah and Peers gave me the excuse if I’m honest. You’re such a lovely man. When I asked you not to undo my dress there was a good reason, you probably thought I had a period or something. The honest truth is that if you had got anywhere near my, well I’d better speak plainly, if you had touched my vagina I wouldn’t have been able to stop. There, I’ve said it, wanton as it may sound, no doubt about it with what I was holding in my hand. Sorry to be so crude."

“The point is,” she continued hurriedly, with her head tight against my shoulder, “I can’t let you do that, fuck me I mean, not whilst I’m married. I just can’t, despite what Peers has done. I will do most other things for you, but,… how do I put this, I can’t talk about orifices, it sounds so clinical. I can’t let your penis go inside my body, not just in the usual place, but also not in my other places, you know- my mouth or my bottom. My big problem with you is that once you start touching me with those beautiful hands I won’t be able to stop, and I’d be relying totally on you not to go in. Judging by how I was feeling last night when you were holding my breasts, I wouldn’t be able to say no, and you hadn’t even got inside my bra! I need you to say NO for me, even if I beg, or try to push you in. I might want you so much that I ask you to break this promise, but you mustn’t, please. Do you understand?”

“I’ve made myself sound dreadfully wanton I know, and maybe you won’t want to continue under those conditions, but I’ve never done anything like this before, I’m still married, and any type of actual fucking is beyond the line, my line. Do you think I’m being silly?”

I turned her round and lifted her chin to look at me. “No absolutely not. I know that wasn’t easy to say, and I respect you for it, like I respect your scruples and your standards. Not many women in your position would still be faithful to their husbands in that respect. It’s going to be difficult I know, but I promise you faithfully that I will do as you ask. As we are speaking openly I had better say that, judging by how excited I was, and how quickly I came last night, I wouldn’t last long inside you anyway; I might not satisfy you."

“What! You must be joking," she exclaimed. “If I could take you, all of you, I’d be in heaven. Just to have you inside me- you wouldn’t even have to move. I’ve only held you, I haven’t even seen it yet, but my imagination is going wild. I can only imagine what Sarah has had over the years, no wonder she always had such a satisfied grin on her face. Oh heck, just talking about is making me wet. I’m not normally this randy. At this rate you won’t need even hands with me, you’ll only need to talk to me!”

"Let me make it clear that this isn't all about size, my initial attraction to you had nothing to do with that, in case you were getting that impression, it’s just an added bonus. I wanted you long before I knew anything about that. If Sarah hadn’t left you, and Peers hadn’t been such a rat, there isn’t the remotest chance that any of this would have happened I assure you.”

“But you did know about it,” I said. “That little slip last night; only Sarah could have told you. Do women friends talk about intimacies like that?”

“Not usually, but…oh, I’ll tell you some other time, come on lets go somewhere. I need you, and if its any consolation to you, Sarah did say on holiday that up till then she had always been absolutely faithful to you. Peers even tried it on with her you know, the swine. It was at the Christmas party when we had that lovely kiss. He was in her knickers before she could stop him, and she kneed him in the balls. He had to leave early if you remember; she must have done a good job because he was in agony all night. Good for her, it served him right.” She laughed.

We hurried to my car, and I drove out to a totally private spot I had used with Sarah in our courting days. Happy memories. It’s a good job my big car was an automatic, because Helen took my hand and pushed it up her skirt and pressed it against her panties. Her other hand was between my legs stroking the inside of my thigh. I just about managed to keep the car on the road, and I was grateful it was only a further few miles.

As soon as I stopped Helen was out of the door, and got into the roomy back of my car. A beautiful grown woman, and a big mature man, acting like teenagers on a date with nowhere else to go. She giggled uncontrollably. I would have loved that first real occasion to be slow and tender, enjoying those magnificent breasts, but Helen was desperate. She had everything off in seconds, and had me out in her hands only moments later. I found her lips amongst her beautiful pubic hair, and began playing with her whilst we kissed passionately.

She was already quite wet as I slipped my finger inside her, and she started moaning loudly. She had stopped wanking me as she became overcome with her own sensations, which was opportune because I was desperately hanging on myself. I slipped a second finger in, and she writhed under my hand, gasping. I kissed her magnificent breasts, and as soon as I sucked her nipple she cried out and her hips convulsed. I could feel warm liquid running down my fingers into my palm and over my wrist. I fingered her faster and harder, until she screamed out and grabbed my wrist to stop my movement.

“No more, oh God, I cant even begin to tell you how wonderful that was,” she gasped, and then she started to cry.

I was slightly alarmed, and forgot my own urgency, even though Helen was still holding me. I gently slid my fingers out and hugged her in my arms. We stayed like that for a while, me trying to keep my wet hand off her body until the crying subsided.

“Tears of relief, pleasure and joy,” she assured me, “Oh, Rob, your fingers, that was even better than I ever imagined, and believe me I’ve been doing that with you in my thoughts many times. It’s so long since I had sex, and that was such a relief. Sorry about the tears, I couldn’t stop them. Now I’ve wet the seats of your lovely car, and I haven’t done anything for you, sorry.” With that she moved over me and knelt straddling my thighs. She lifted me and looked at my solid erection in her hand.

“Oh Rob you’re so big and beautiful, I’m already regretting asking you to make those promises. I thought that only black men were endowed like this, at least that’s what Peers said. He once made me watch a video of this huge black man fucking a small woman, and she was screaming for him to stop. Peers got very excited, but my thoughts were more in sympathy for the woman, though I knew it was staged. I found out from a friend later that this coloured chap had been moved into Peers department, so I’m guessing that his intentions were a threesome or something like that. He was always suggesting wife swapping, foursomes and the rest, and he couldn’t understand why I didn’t want to play along. Sorry, if I’m not careful I’ll put you off.”

She looked at me for while, and handled me beautifully. Then she leant forward so that her big beautiful breasts rubbed my face. If this wasn’t heaven I didn’t know what was. I took one of her nipples in my mouth, and ran my hand up the inside of her splayed legs until I reached her lovely hair, and then played gently with her lips. She started to make little gasping noises, all the time rubbing up and down on my shaft. Eventually she flicked my nipple with her other hand, and that was it for me, I went right over the top, almost shouting my pleasure as I shot up onto my stomach and the underside of her breasts. After a moment she rested forward on me, and we kissed and kissed.

“Well I think I’ve found your G spot, E zone, or whatever they call it in a man, your nipples must be very sensitive, just like mine,” Helen said, insisting on cleaning us both up with copious amounts of tissues. I lay back with what must have been a huge grin on my face. She dried the seat as best she could, but it left a big area of discolouring. She apologised profusely for the mess, but I couldn’t have cared less, my pleasure was so deep.

“If I can’t get it cleaned, at least I’ll have a lasting memento of your pleasure,” I said as we dressed. “Come on, we’ll get a lunch at that pub we passed on the way here, there’s plenty of time before you need to go for the boys.”

Helen was positively glowing as we ate a salad lunch at a garden bench table at the rear of the beautiful old pub. It was lucky that there was no one else around, or they could have guessed immediately what we had been doing.

“Now that I’ve had a good look at your beautiful, shall I call it dick? Yes, well, I’d better come clean on my little slip of the tongue last night. Yes, Helen did tell me, but don’t think badly of her, because it came about in odd circumstances. You remember earlier this year, when she and I went to that friend’s hen night up North near Newcastle. Well it was wild, you wouldn’t believe what a depraved lot they were, even before they got drunk. Except for the ‘bride’, they were all married women, yet we soon lost half the party to a bunch of rugby players who chatted them up in the bar. They were talking of screwing the arses off these blokes, who they’d never set eyes on until half an hour before!”

“Sarah and I were shocked. We were way out of our comfort zone, but it appeared that we were alone in that. We tried to control our drinking, but as the evening wore on we were well tiddly. Anyway, we all left the pub and went to this woman’s house, and then the games started, which they seemed familiar with, and we weren’t. We were still drinking, and we were trying not to seem too out of place, so when they started handing round reefers, we just smoked cigarettes."

“You smoke, well that’s a surprise; Sarah did in our early days, and occasionally since, I could smell it on her clothes sometimes, but I didn’t think”…

“Please don’t try to make me feel guilty Rob, I won’t have it; I’m not making excuses, I imagine that you never have, but I enjoy it sometimes. It’s not a habit, because I can stop whenever I like; I got used to it with Helen when we were at advertising promotions, particularly fashion after-show parties. Cigarettes were the mildest, drugs if you like, everyone else seemed to be on Marijuana, Heroin and even Cocaine. We were the good girls, believe me, it’s only occasional and I don’t think it does me much harm,” she said with feeling, and a hint of anger in her voice.

“Sorry Helen, I apologise, I was just a bit surprised. I’m in no position to criticise you, in fact the most erotic scene I ever witnessed involved a woman smoking. It was in was Paris a few years ago when Sarah and I were on holiday. Do you mind me telling you?”

“Go ahead,” she said, her anger melting. She smiled and held my hand, relieving the tension.

"Well, we were sitting at a very exclusive street café, and just over Sarah’s shoulder I could see this very beautiful, ultra chic Parisian. She had so much style that she could have graced the cover of Vogue any day. As I watched her, she lit a long cigarette with wonderful panache. Sarah had her head down checking her I-phone, which was a just as well, because I couldn’t take my eyes off the woman. Then I was flabbergasted when she put her hands up to adjust her ponytail, still holding her cigarette, revealing a mass of dark hair under her arms! I have to admit I was so turned on. I only just managed to close my mouth, and put my eyes back into their sockets before Sarah looked up. I had never seen anything like it, and it has stayed vivid in my mind all these years. Consequently I’ve had a thing about body hair and smoking ever since. So, although I’ve never wanted to smoke myself I’m not anti, quite the opposite.”

“Well, now you’ve surprised me in turn,” Helen said, “But I haven’t finished my explanation, and I may be turning the tables on you yet. Some of the ‘games’, (she made the little two fingered bunny signs at shoulder level) were horribly embarrassing, basically telling lewd sex stories of what we had done with men, husbands or partners excluded! By the looks on their faces I’m sure they could see through our lies, but we just had to make up what we could.”

“Then the games went to a different level. The host brought out a set of three vibrators and stood them upright on the table between us. They were about four, six, and eight inches, and all properly shaped like penises, head, veins and all. Sarah was squeezing my hand desperately, and I was feeling sick wondering what we were supposed to do. Friend of the ‘bride’ or not, I was getting ready to walk. The host then asked us each to pick up in turn, the one which closest resembled the biggest, donker, she called it, we had ever had. We were so relieved, and there were hilarious laughs, jokes, and ribbing as we went round the table. Sarah was quite drunk by this time, and when it came to her turn she unhesitatingly picked up the biggest one. A couple of the girls jeered, but the host looked straight at Sarah and said, ‘I can tell, you’re not kidding are you’!”

"Sarah went red and rushed out of the room. I followed her out, and found her in the bathroom retching over the basin. We made our excuses, and I helped her back to our hotel. We sat up for quite a while until she had stopped being sick, and then I put her to bed. I got into bed with her and cuddled her whilst she cried. She said she had never been so embarrassed in her life, and it wasn’t even true, because you were bigger than anything there! Once she had said that she relaxed and told me a bit more, including how it hurt her at first, and how gentle and understanding you were with her, until she could take it all comfortably. She said that those women who talked about ‘size not being everything,’ wouldn’t say that if they’d ever had a really big one. I have to admit that I was excited at the thought of you, and I was willing her to tell me more, but she went to sleep."

“I tried to leave her later, but she clung to me even tighter and, what with the warmth and comfort of her body, well, please don’t think any the less of Sarah, because it was as much my fault as hers. Probably more mine, because I was excited at the thought of you. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never had any inclination towards women before or since, it was just the circumstances at the time. I can see the shock in your face, so I’m not going to say any more. Lets just say that we comforted each other, fully, and I don’t regret for a minute what we did; it was very loving, and it just seemed right at the time.”

“We didn’t even go to the wedding. Sarah didn’t want to face them, so we just came straight home the next morning, and we never mentioned the subject again. So… I knew Sarah wasn’t lying about your size, but now I know for real. Now I’ve got that off my chest, I feel much better, and more than anything I’d love a cigarette, except I haven’t got any, and anyway you might not like to see me smoking."

“I’m guessing that you’ve got a lighter in there?” I asked, nodding to the little purse/bag on the table that she always carried for her phone, car keys, and personal bits.

She nodded, so I set off for the bar, and returned a few minutes later with a packet of cigarettes, wondering how anyone could afford to smoke these days.

“I’ll smoke for you, but I’m not sure I can turn you on like that Parisian lady, and I can’t do the other bit,” Helen said, lifting one arm showing a clean armpit. She laughed, and, very deliberate in her actions, lit up a cigarette with a small gold lighter. She held my hand across the table, looked me in the eye, and held that look throughout, as she smoked her cigarette in beautiful style. She knew exactly what she was doing for me, and to me.

When she had finished she took a mini canister from her bag, and in one motion sprayed around her face. As she popped a mint in her mouth she said, “Thanks Rob, I don’t know which of us enjoyed that the most; I won’t make a habit of it, but any time I fancy one with you I will, and if you specially want me to, you only have to say. In fact, you lovely man, I’ll do anything you want within our promise, and oh, by the way I left my knickers in the glove compartment of your car. I’m ready for it again if you want, please, before I wet this bench.”

I did it for her again as soon as we found a quiet spot, twice in quick succession until she was exhausted.


Helen was breathing steadily in my arms, and I thought she was asleep.

“You asleep?” I asked.

She looked up at me and kissed my lips. “No, I think I’m doing exactly the same as you probably are, remembering all the lovely times we’ve had, all the beautiful love and sex. Sadly you kept your promise; I’m probably going to regret asking you to do that for the rest of my life. Do you remember that time on the beach, and in that restaurant, oh, and especially in the bathroom when I nearly passed out. I shall never ever experience anything like that again. It was all about the hands wasn’t it.”

Further memories would have to wait, the warmth of her body was making me drowsy and I...

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