What a lovely afternoon! Gary took the afternoon off work and met me at the school gates, his bright blue eyes catching the sun as he blew smoke into the calm autumn air. His smoking didn’t bother me, although it’s been a while since I last had a fag. My mum (well, stepmum actually) put a painful stop to that a few years ago with the help of a size 12 slipper!
We kissed, his warm tongue slipping between my lips as his hand rubbed the crotch of my slacks - we don’t have to wear uniform in the Sixth Form - and I felt my pulse racing.
“Let’s stop on the Hill,” I said when I finally got the chance to breathe. The Hill meant Lark Hill, a park between Larkhays High School and the Grimshaw council estate, where Gary lives, and the woods there have seen more action than Vietnam! I was sixteen the first time I got fingered there by Scott, my first boyfriend, and a year later, I lost my virginity to Martin, bent over a log with my skirt hitched up! My relationship with Martin didn’t last long, after he bragged to his mates about his ‘conquest’, so I concentrated on my ‘A’ levels until I met Gary just recently.
As we walked together, holding hands, I saw that horrible snob, Mrs Braithwaite, across the road, who gave us a disapproving look. She’s our local Tory councillor, and a friend of my stepmum. She knows Mum doesn’t approve of Gary!
Gary’s hand was on my bum as we walked through the park gates, and I could already feel myself getting moist. We entered the woods through a little opening between two clumps of stinging nettles and found a tree stump to sit on. We kissed passionately, Gary’s hands probing my breasts through the neckline of my linen top before wandering southwards and unbuttoning my waistband.
Trousers are a lot less convenient than a short skirt when it comes to getting fingered! I used to just slip my knickers off, and Scott or Martin (yes, they were the only two - I’m not a slag like some of the girls in my year!) could just slide a hand under my short school uniform skirt and get a smelly finger! But I couldn’t risk taking my slacks all the way down, so Gary’s hand had to reach down the front of my briefs, stroking my bush of pubic hair on its way down.
His finger started circling my clit. Oh my God, bliss! As our tongues slid over one another, and his left hand stroked my ribs inside my top, I felt like I was close to my first orgasm (with a boy, at any rate). But then he stopped…
“Let’s go back to my place,” he said. “Dad doesn’t close the garage till about 6.00, and Mum’s on the late shift at Tesco. We’ll have the house to ourselves!”
Any frustration I may have felt quickly turned to excitement, as I pictured having noisy, passionate sex with Gary in an empty house. This would be my first time since going on the pill, and to be honest, it would be the first time I did it in an actual…bed! I have fond memories of my best friend Natalie’s party last year, when her parents were away on business together. Half the girls got off with someone, and the rest of us had great fun sitting at the top of the stairs, listening to creaking bedsprings and banging headboards - not to mention moans and grunts!
As we left the woods, checking furtively that no one saw us, I felt so wet I wondered if it would show through my beige slacks! Gary was rock-hard, of course, but I don’t think it showed through his jeans. We walked quickly, both of our hearts pounding in anticipation.
When we arrived outside the big, red brick council house, some of the neighbourhood children were playing in the street outside. I felt a bit self-conscious as Gary said hello to a boy on a Chopper bike, but nobody would know what we were getting up to inside.
As soon as the door was closed, and Gary had checked no one was in, we got down to business! Even before my shoes were off, our tongues were interlacing, and he was unzipping my trousers. My breathing was fast and shallow, and my knickers sopping wet. All I wanted was to feel his nakedness beside mine in his single bed, to feel that short, but thick and hard cock probing my insides, without the worry of being caught by dog walkers on the Hill. I pushed him away so that we could get our shoes off, and within a minute we were in his big bedroom overlooking the garden. At least the local urchins wouldn’t see me draw the curtains, but I’d still have to keep the noise down, as Gary’s elderly neighbours were sitting on the patio next door.
My slacks and white knickers, both drenched in my juices, were soon decorating the carpet, as I lay back, knees almost touching my face, waiting for Gary to escape the confines of his Levis. He stayed in his Y-fronts to start with, but I didn’t complain when I saw his handsome, square-jawed face follow the scent to my dripping pussy.
Oh my God, the sensations I felt as his long tongue probed every nook and crevice of my cunt! It traced the outer edges of my lips before diving deep inside, turning my soft moans into grunts which I struggled to keep down. It was just too good, and he’d barely even touched my swollen clit!
After a few blissful minutes, I felt a change down below. Gary’s tongue, which must have been coated in my musky juices, withdrew, only to be replaced by what felt like two fingers…or was it three? I was so open and wet and hungry for him, I really couldn’t tell, but didn’t care as his skilful tongue set to work around my pleasure centre! Gary’s had a few girlfriends before me, having just turned twenty-two, and I used to feel a bit jealous of them. But right now I want to hug every one of those girls who trained him so well!
I whined softly, wanting to scream out, as the tip of Gary’s tongue flicked from side to side, just clipping my bud with enough force to yield delicious sensations without it getting over-sensitive. He then began licking in circles, whilst his fingers started to slide in and out. Could that be my G-spot his fingertips are pressing? Oh my God, this was getting too much….
“Fuck me sweetheart, I want to come with you inside me,” I gasped. Gary got up and slipped off his tight blue Y-fronts, and while he was unbuttoning his shirt, I turned over and thrust my arse and pussy out at the most obscene angle possible.
“I love doggy position,” he gushed, “but first I need another taste of that sweet slit!” and before I could warn him, I felt his nose probing around my back passage while that strong, sensitive tongue worked its magic from a different angle.
“Oh my God, enter me before I come, sweetie!” and as I finally felt his thick member part my flesh curtains, my orgasm was already wrapping itself around me, a soft blanket of unstoppable pleasure enveloping mind and body. I had to bury my face in the pillow to stifle my cries as I felt myself contract in spasms of joy against Gary’s rock-hard cock. I don’t know if I squirted, but I was so wet down there his thrusts seemed to go deeper and deeper as the waves of ecstasy broke over my hormone-drenched brain.
As my down-muffled cries died away, and I was all ready to collapse in a heap on the bed, I felt Gary’s thrusts grow ever more violent, and he started to grunt in rhythm with his animal panting. I could feel his balls swinging between my legs as his whole body trembled in explosive pleasure. He collapsed onto my back, his shoulder-length hair tickling the back of my neck, and soon we were both on our sides, like spoons.
**
“What would happen if your parents caught us?” I mused after we’d been lying in silence for a few minutes.
“I’m not sure. I’m old enough to do as I please, and I was going to introduce you to Mum and dad soon anyway. Whether they’d be happy with us having it off under their roof, I’m not too sure, but they’re mostly ok now that I’m grown up and contributing to dad’s business.”
“What were they like when you were younger?” I asked, his last phrase having awakened some curiosity in my still sex-addled brain.
“Really strict,” he said. I wanted to know more.
“Did they…spank you?”
“Oh God, yeah. In fact, the word ‘spanking’ makes it sound a bit tame. My dad used to whip us with his belt. Are you into stuff like that? I could tell you about the last time I copped it, if you want to know the details.”
“Mum stopped spanking me a few years ago,” I said, falling silent for a moment as I remembered that look from Mrs Braithwaite, “but just recently I’ve seen a few spanko magazines, and I think I may be getting into it now - it was nothing but pain at the time though. Yeah, I’d love to hear all about it, if it’s not too traumatic or anything.”
“I was nineteen!” said Gary, still sounding indignant that his dad punished him at that age. “The thing that makes it even worse is that it wasn’t for any sort of childish behaviour - it was because I messed up at work!”
I was stunned. Gary had been working as a mechanic in his dad’s garage since leaving school at sixteen, and was due eventually to take over the business. The idea that a boss could use corporal punishment on an employee, even his own son, seemed as incredible to me as it must have felt to him!
“How could he think that was OK?” I asked, incredulous.
“Well, his view was that while I’m still living under his roof, he’s got the right to make the rules. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I messed up fitting a new fuel pump in a Cortina. It could have been dangerous - the customer could smell petrol inside the car. He gave me the biggest bollocking of my life, and even threatened to sack me from the business I’m due to take over one day!
“It was when we got home a couple of hours later that he suggested corporal punishment as a way to resolve it all, with a promise that he’d forget about the matter and never mention it again if I agreed to take a whipping. I don’t know if he really would have sacked me if I said no, but I agreed to it. If I’m honest, I think I may have a bit of curiosity in that department too, and I felt a slight sense of thrill when he sent me up to this room.
“I knew the drill. I had to take my trousers and pants right off, then lay two pillows, one on top of the other, on the same bed we’re lying in now. I had to be in position, lying across the pillows with my bare arse in the air, when dad came in a few minutes later. It was so humiliating at that age! Anyway, as soon as I heard that dreaded sound of the buckle rattling as he took off his belt, all I could think of was how much it would hurt, and boy, was I right!
“That whipping was pure hell, from the first lash. I don’t know how many I got, probably nineteen (one for each year of age; that’s what I usually got), but there’s something about that old, heavy leather belt. It digs into the flesh and stings like crazy, each stroke just a little bit worse than the one before.
“I tried to keep quiet, but by half-way I was howling. It was so embarrassing, thinking that the neighbours could probably hear me. Anyway, it was soon over - couldn’t have taken more than a minute, although it felt longer! - and the slate was wiped clean, so I can’t really complain.”
We lay in silence for a while. I was caught between feeling horrified that a father could do that to an adult son, and wondering what it would feel like to get a spanking from Gary.
“You’re still living under your dad’s roof now, Gary. What if you messed up at work again?” I was genuinely curious.
“That hasn’t happened in three years, and I think I’m a bit old now. But if it was a choice between bending over and losing my stake in the business…I don’t know! Best not to mess up again, I guess.
“How about you, sweetie?” he then asked, “What if your Mum finds out about us?”
Once again, all I could see was that look from Mrs Brathwaite - would she say anything? Mum’s already threatened ‘consequences’ if I keep seeing ‘that boy from the Grimshaw Estate.’ Would it be the slipper again, or something worse?
“I really don’t know, love,” I said pensively, not wanting to upset Gary by telling him what Mum thought of him, “but I probably ought to get going before she starts worrying.”
I had a bad feeling as I got dressed and gave Gary a lingering kiss, and I still have a bad feeling as I’m writing this in my bedroom. Mum seems very off with me this evening.
We’ll soon see what happens….
Bye for now!
Mandy.
