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Harry's Quest - part two

Continuing the story of Harry's discovery of the many faces of sex
Casting the dismal memory of Marina aside, he looked at his watch. Nine oclock. Much too early for bed. Or at least, for his own bed. He turned to the back pages of his contacts book and made a few calls. After three invitations to leave a message after the tone and one sorry, Im washing my hair, he gave up. He knew of one or two watering holes where his acquaintances would be but a night out with the guys didnt appeal. He was hungry. No point in looking in the fridge: it was due for restocking. In desperation Harry went to his car, drove to the nearest multiplex cinema and bought a ticket to the first screen that had vacant seats. Surprised, he enjoyed the movie and set off home in a better mood.

Remembering he still hadn’t eaten and his refrigerator was empty, he made a detour to his favoured supermarket. It was a good time to drop in. Most people were still out enjoying their Saturday or heading for home while the serious night owls wouldn’t arrive for another couple of hours. Staff stacking shelves almost outnumbered shoppers. In little over thirty minutes, Harry had filled his trolley with more than enough unsuitable foodstuffs to see him through the coming week. The checkouts were quiet, too. Harry began to unload his purchases. When he handed over his credit card, the woman at the desk said, That should keep you going for a bit.

Harry grinned and nodded. “Anyway,” said the woman, “if you don’t mind my saying so, it’s a bit of a surprise to see a good-looking single man out on his own on a Saturday night. No girl friends?”

“Not tonight.” Harry shook his head. “But how did you know I was single?”

She indicated the items she was packing into a carrier for him. “Frozen meals, ready for the microwave? You’re no husband, that’s for sure.”

“In that case, thank heavens for the microwave. Otherwise I might starve. At least it won’t take long when I get back.”

The woman laughed. “Far to go?”

When he told her, she put a restraining hand on his arm. “Could I be very cheeky and ask for a lift? Im finishing now. I had my till balanced half an hour ago, so I won’t be long.” She placed a Checkout Closed sign across the end of the conveyor belt. “It’s my direction and after midnight you can wait for ages for a bus. Drop me off where you can and I’ll get a taxi from there.”

It would have been churlish to refuse and, in truth, he was in no great hurry. “I’ll be in the car park,” he said. “A blue sports car.”

“Nice,” she replied. “And thanks.”

Waiting, he wondered whether the womans employers would have approved of her taking a bit of a liberty with a customer but he could understand a woman not wanting to wait around on her own late at night. Beryl was the name on her ID tag. Middle to late forties, he guessed. Almost old enough to be his mother. His train of thought was broken when the passenger door opened and she slid in.

They made comfortable conversation while he drove, small talk, the weather, the traffic. He told her about the film hed just seen. She said she only did the two late shifts at the week-end because she and her husband put the money towards a holiday. And she had a part-time job in the mornings, Monday to Friday. They were planning a cruise this year. He asked where she lived and, when she told him, offered to take her all the way. It was only an extra couple of miles, he said, and the microwave could wait.

Her house was in a suburban avenue like thousands of other suburban avenues. A light could be seen behind partly closed curtains at an upstairs window. “John’s probably gone to bed already,” she said. “He wont be expecting me this early. Anyway, thanks for the lift. It was really kind of you.” She unfastened her seat belt and leaned across to kiss his cheek.

Impulsively, Harry sought to give her a return peck but suddenly they were face to face and she was looking into his eyes and smiling. “Would you mind if I kissed you properly?” she said.

Harry realised that he wouldnt mind at all. He drew her to him and put his hand behind her head as she opened her lips. When they parted, both gasping for air, Beryl said, “I don’t do this sort of thing. I don’t know why I did. I’m sorry.”

“No need,” said Harry. “It was good.” They sat in silence for a while, looking at each other, unsure how they had arrived where they were or what should happen next.

“I’d better go,” Beryl said.

“Please dont. Just for a couple of minutes.”

“You know what will happen, dont you?”

“Yes,” said Harry and kissed her again. This time he couldnt resist the temptation to let his hand discover her breast. She put her hand on his and made to move it away, then pressed it against her. He could feel the nipple hardening under the material of her blouse. Beryls resistance crumbled. While Harry massaged her tits more vigorously, she reached for his crotch. He paused for a moment to open his zip for her. She had difficulty extracting his cock, already semi-erect. It sprang into her hand. “Oh,” she breathed, “you’re very big. Nice.”

Glancing through the car windows to ensure that the street was empty, she said, “A good thing were beside this tree. It’s quite dark, so I don’t think we can be seen.” Reassured, she bent her head to Harrys purple cockhead. Precum was already oozing. She licked slowly, first across the top, then underneath the knob. Soon, unable to resist, she opened her mouth and took in as much shaft as she could cope with.

Harry groaned. “That’s it. Just like that.” He looked down at the bobbing head of this middle-aged checkout lady who was giving him a blowjob of such subtle intensity. Unable to contain himself, he put his hand against the back of her head and began bucking himself to meet her, fucking her sensuous mouth, willing her to add friction with her tongue. As if reading his mind, she responded. Harry recalled that a few hours ago his hand had taken him all the way but now, under this expert stimulation, there was no sign of fatigue. His cock was throbbing and Beryl was showing no sign of easing off. He had to warn her. “Careful,” he whispered. “I’m nearly there.”

She released him just long enough to say, “It’s all right. Just come.” Her mouth descended again, her lips fastened round his shaft, her hand cradled his balls. Little by little, she increased her speed, gripped more firmly, sucked more greedily. Harry bit his tongue to prevent himself from crying out as he let himself go, feeling her suck the spunk that emerged in fierce jets deep into her throat.

When it was over, she licked him clean, though almost no residue had been allowed to escape. Harry lay back in his seat and looked at her as she sat up. “Do you know something?” he said. “That was absolutely amazing. Fantastic.” And then, remembering himself, “But its all been me. What can I do for you?”

Beryl kissed him lightly on the lips. “Nothing, I’m afraid. Not just now. It’s not that I wouldn’t like it. I know I would but ...” she glanced up at the lighted bedroom window. “John may be awake still, and he - well, you know”. She smoothed down the skirt that had ridden up round her thighs and refastened her blouse. “I’m glad it was good for you. It was for me, too. But I really have to go now.”

As she prepared to leave, he caught her hand. “Another time, then. Next Saturday?”

She shook her head.”I couldn’t, not here, not every Saturday night.”

“What about one afternoon? You only work mornings, you said.” Harry suspected he might have only explored the surface of a very sexy lady and he was fearful she would escape.

“I’ll think about it,” said Beryl.

Harry took his business card from his wallet and thrust it into her hand. “Please do. Think about it. Give me a ring.”

She took the card, smiled and disappeared up the path to the house. He watched her take a key from her handbag. She gave him a little wave and went in.

Each time his phone rang during the next few days, Harry snatched it up expecting - hoping - it would be Beryl. Disappointment gradually gave way to resignation. Two weeks passed. He thought about calling in at the supermarket on a Saturday but it would be unfair. If she’d really wanted him, she would have rung. A memorable one-off but a one-off for all that. Put it down to experience and move on.

And then she called.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch,” she said, almost without preamble. “I’ve wanted to several times but - “ And now, having done so she didn’t seem to know what to say.

“John?” Harry prompted.

“Yes. Hes very good to me and I couldn’t do anything to hurt him. But ...” she paused, again searching for words. “But I think with you it would be different. Different from John.”

“Shall we try?”

“I’m forty-seven, nearly forty-eight. Doesn’t that put you off?” As though if he said it did, it would save her from having to make a decision.

“It didn’t put me off before. It wouldn’t again. What’s it matter, anyway?”

There was another silence before Beryl said, “But how? I mean, where could we go?”

“A hotel.”

“I don’t think I could.”

“Come here, then. I’ll collect you when you finish.”

“I’d have to be home before five. In time to prepare John’s tea when he gets back from work.”

She had given in. They agreed where to meet. She wanted it to be the next day. Before she could change her mind.

When the moment came, they were both nervous. She met him immediately after leaving her morning job: she was a receptionist for a hairdresser in the west end. She wore a tailored business suit, dark, with a red blouse, a large bow at the neck. No more the checkout lady but a nervous forty-seven-year-old nonetheless. He had offered to take her to lunch but she refused, still apprehensive that she might want to back out at the last minute.

Closing the door of his apartment was the watershed. She looked around briefly, took in the spaciousness, the luxury furnishings, the expensive drapes, the flat-screen television, the surround-sound hi-fi. Music was playing quietly, classical music she couldnt recognise. She turned and offered herself to him.

Harry clasped her in his arms and kissed her. The kiss was long, deep and inherently sexual. Tongues explored, signalling that both were on fire. When they parted, Harry said, “Thank you for wanting to be here.”

She nodded. Very serious. “I’m still not sure I should be. But thank you asking me.”

“Something to drink?” He indicated an ice bucket, a champagne bottle, two glasses. She shook her head.

He took her hand and led her to the bedroom. “Kingsize,” he said. “I hope you approve.”

For the first time, she relaxed slightly, smiling. “How the other half lives,” she said. “May I try?” After removing her jacket and setting it carefully aside, she sat on the edge of the bed, tested the firmness, then lay back. Harry took off his own jacket and unfastened his belt. Beryl raised her knees, opened them and let her skirt slide part way up her thighs. “Will you help me?” she said. “Please remember I’m a novice at this sort of thing.”

When Harry eased the skirt from her, she raised her bottom slightly to help him. “How did you know?” he asked.

“Know what?”

“Black. Black knickers, suspenders, stockings.”

“Oh, Harry, youre just a boy, aren’t you? A dark suit for work, so black stockings. I happen to like black knickers. But the suspenders are just for today. Because that’s what boys are supposed to like. Aren’t they?”

“Turn over for me.” She removed her blouse first, revealing a matching black bra supporting ample breasts, then lay face down, ready. He knelt beside her, caressing her buttocks beneath the black fabric. At forty-seven - not disguised by greying hair, fashionably cut thanks to her employer - she was probably not as slim as she once was but the roundness was not excessive. Harry remembered the breasts he had fondled in the car. He unclasped her bra and turned her on to her back again. His memory hadn’t deceived him: the nipples, pink and slightly tapering, were hard, demanding attention. He bent his head, took one between his lips and teased with his tongue. Small sounds of encouragement led him to be bolder. His hand stroked a thigh, moved upward and inward, pressed the silk with eager fingers, encountered dampness. Beryl turned towards him, making herself more available.

Releasing her breast but leaving his hand pressing into her crotch, Harry sat up, looked down at her with undisguised lust. “I want to fuck you,” he said, “but first I want to lick your cunt, finger your arsehole, if you like that.” When she didnt respond, he went on, “Do you mind me talking to you like that? If it upsets you, I won’t do it.”

“No. It makes me ... makes me want to ... to be fucked.”

“Can you talk to me, too? Like that.”

“Would you like me to?”

“If you can.”

“I’d like to try. I mean, were grown-ups arent we? Just the two of us. No-one will know what we do.” She frowned. “Oh, Harry, this is all so strange to me, but I want to try. If it pleases you.”

“It would.”

“Let me see your cock, then. Is it hard? I can suck it for you, if you like.” Beryl had broken through another barrier. The careful pressure on her clit from Harrys fingers, the knowledge that she was wet, the aching desire spreading from her loins overcame any remaining inhibitions. As soon as he was naked, she nudged him on to his back while she examined the cock she had previously encountered only in semi-darkness, the light of street lamps obscured by the branches of a tree. My word,” she said. “You really are big. Will I be able to take all of that. In my ... cunt.”

“We could try,” Harry suggested.

“We will. I promise you that. But not yet.” She began to work on him with her hands, at first alternately, then both together, bending forward to kiss the tip each time it emerged.

“Hey, this is good but you’re getting left out. How about sixty-nine?”

“You mean you want to suck me too?”

“Your cunt, yes.”

Beryl sat up, straddled Harrys face, felt the tip of his tongue along her outer folds, gave a happy sigh and bent forward to resume her oral attention to his now rampant cock. He clasped his hands round her arse and pulled her on to his mouth. They remained like that for some time, rocking gently as first one then the other became more active or, in Harrys case, needed a short rest to regain supremacy over an urge to explode. During one of these pauses he asked, “Ready to come yet?”

“I think so. But would you mind if I leave you for a bit and just enjoy myself?”

“Turn over and open wide.”

As soon as she had arranged herself, Harry took full advantage. One hand cupped her arse cheeks. Two fingers of the other slid effortlessly into Beryls wet cunt. His tongue found her clit and licked. “Harry!” she cried. “It wont take long like that.”

“Shall I slow down?” Stopping nibbling but leaving his fingers in place.

“No. Just do it. I’m already on the edge. Fuck me with your fingers like you were.”

Harry did just that, fingers and tongue working in harmony, feeling the tension build in her, aware of her thighs growing tight round his head. Faster and faster he went, struggling at times to stay in place as her writhing became more pronounced. When it happened, she was screaming. “Yes, yes, yes!” And then she fell back, panting.

Harry watched her recover. “Can you do that again?” he asked.

“I think so. Soon. Dont you want to fuck me yet?”

:Yes and no. I want to make sure you get everything you need. If it was that good, why don’t I do it again?”

“You said earlier ... you said you might finger my ...”

“Your arsehole?”

“Yes. My arsehole. Will you do that?”

“Do you like it?”

“I don’t know. I want to find out.”

It needed some complicated arranging first. Harry took a pillow and placed it under her, raising her bottom, exposing the little pink aperture. He knelt at her side, slid one hand along the pillow underneath her until his fingertip found its target without exerting any pressure, reintroduced two fingers of his other hand into the well-lubricated front passage and finally added his tongue. Sensing that Beryl was partly apprehensive in spite of being aroused, he waited until he felt her relax. He touched her anus with his middle finger. She pressed back on it. He waited. She pressed further. Slowly, gently, carefully, he opened up what was clearly a virgin entrance. When he reached the second knuckle, he stopped, massaging now from the other side with the two fingers in her cunt. “I like it,” he heard her murmuring almost to herself, from somewhere above him. “I like it when you finger my arse and my cunt at the same time, and Im going to -” The sentence was never finished as a second huge orgasm wracked her body.

After she had recovered some composure, she said, “I need a rest. Come and kneel across me and let me have that cock where I can see it.” She pressed her tits together with both hands: an invitation Harry couldnt refuse. He placed his cock between two creamy mounds and settled into a languorous to and fro motion. The nipples were still hard. “Its a great cock,” Beryl said, “and I still haven’t had it up me. In my cunt.” Could this, Harry wondered, really be the nervous woman who had arrived with him les than an hour earlier.

Finally, Harry sensed that she was ripe, this woman, sixteen years his senior, who seemed to have discovered a sexual liberation that she could wait no longer to explore. He made her kneel in preparation for entering her from behind. Her protests that she couldnt then see his cock entering her subsided when he arranged a dressing table mirror to give her a full view of their coupling. It was a moment for them both to savour. He took it very slowly, first just the head, next a little of the shaft, then nearly complete withdrawal, followed by a deeper insertion until he was fully buried, his balls swinging against her. When he withdrew again his cock was gleaming with the moisture gleaned from her sopping depths. He allowed her time to enjoy the experience before settling into a steady rhythm, little by little driving into her with more force.

“Oh, Harry,” she said, “you are so good with me. Fucking me. With that great big cock up my cunt.” He saw her reach underneath herself to use her hand for some complementary enjoyment.

“Shall we try this again?” he enquired, slipping his finger into her arsehole. This time it glided in with ease, almost as though the muscles of her sphincter were sucking it in.

“In my cunt and arse at the same time,” she said. Beryl was - perhaps without realising - talking to him almost constantly, telling him what she was feeling, urging him to greater effort. There could only be one result: sooner rather than later, he would have to come.

They changed positions again, Beryl on her back, legs wide apart. Harry insinuated a leg underneath her and probed with his cock from underneath. Her cunt absorbed him and they fucked like that, Harry now able to use a hand to rub on her glistening distended clitoris.

“I can’t last much longer,” he groaned. “How do you want me?”

“Just on top. Put the pillow under my head so I can see.”

“What about a condom?”

She shook her head. “Not necessary. Just fuck me. Fill me. Fill me with your cock. And your spunk.”

He fucked her for as long as he could, marvelling at his own stamina when being encouraged by a woman in the ultimate stages of heat. As the end approached, she put her hand down and fingered herself, telling him how close she was, trying to get them to come simultaneously. It didnt quite work, but they were close enough. She clutched his buttocks with both hands, trying to feel the cum spattering her insides.

Afterwards they showered together. Little was said. There was nothing to be said. They had sated themselves, given and taken in equal measure and both understood that the occasion had been something very special indeed. They were quiet, too, while he was driving her home. She asked to be dropped off at a bus stop for the last stage, not wanting to be seen arriving in a sports car in broad daylight.

She left him quickly with just a peck on the cheek. “Call me,” he said. “Ill try,” she replied.

Five days later she rang. He was immediately aware of a certain tension at the other end. She said, “I have to tell you, Harry. I’ve told John.”

Oh oh!

“He found out?”

“No. I just felt I had to tell him. Hes a good husband, he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. So - “

“But what now?”

“Its all right. He’s not angry, not with me or you. At first, he was - not hurt, more puzzled. He wanted to know why and how, so I told him. Then he began to ask about the details, what we did.”

“And you told him?”

“Not everything, obviously. Some things are just between the two of us.”

“What did he say?”

“It was strange, Harry. He seemed to come to terms with it because the more we talked about it the more aroused he got. We were in bed and the inevitable happened. Really, he was very good with me. Not as good as you, Harry. Nothing could be as good as that - not ever. But in its own way, it was nice.”

They were silent. “Will I see you again, then?” Harry asked.

“Thats up to you. But there’s a condition.”

“Which is?”

“John wants to be there.”

“Wants to be there? Join in, you mean?”

“No. Just to watch. He might take care of himself, I expect, but what he really wants is to see me with you.”

“Could you do that?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps. Could you?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “I have to think about it. Ill call you. Next week.”

But Harry already knew he couldn’t go through with it. Talking to Beryl, having her beg him to fuck her, finger her arse, doing all the things that had been so exciting but doing them while her husband sat on a chair stroking his cock. It wouldn’t work, and he guessed that Beryl knew it, too. Instead of waiting, he called her back at once and told her his feelings. And he was right. She couldn’t have done it either. He put the phone down without saying goodbye.

Another of Harry’s dreams was over. But not this time in ignominious failure. He had a new masturbatory fantasy: a checkout lady in black knickers. It would last him a long time, he thought. Or, at least, until something new occurred.
This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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