Back in the 1980’s I was in my early 20’s, single, still living at home with my parents on the Wirral. At that time, I was working offshore Aberdeen on the rigs in the North Sea, working a 2 weeks on, 2 weeks off rota. With plenty of spare time on my hands, I wanted to put my off time to good use, so I bought a house which needed major renovation work. It was a project and a half, requiring new plumbing, guttering, drains, a rewire on the electrics, new windows, a kitchen extension, plastering throughout and then redecorating to finish it off. Picture the before scene from ‘Homes Under the Hammer’ and you’ll get the picture.
In my 2 weeks off, I did as much work on the house as I could myself, sometimes if I needed a bit of heavy lifting or specialist trade work I would seek some help from friends or relatives. One weekend after a particularly strenuous week I went out to a local nightclub with a mate, not particularly looking for anyone, just having a blowout from the labouring on my house. It had been a quiet evening of drinking & catching up with an old school friend. I was generally minding my own business late into the early hours when a girl asked me if I wanted the last dance. In those days the last dance was always a slow one. She was quite plain looking but had a good figure, so I looked at my mate Mike and said ‘Why not..?”
While we danced we engaged in some small talk, I found out her name was Rachel, she was 21, she lived locally in Bebington, she worked as a dental assistant at a dental practice in West Kirkby. I told her where I lived, what job etc and so on. The dance finished, the lights came on inside the club, and the bouncers started rounding everyone up to leave the premises. We continued to chat as we moved outside, and I sensed that she wanted more. She lived in the opposite direction to me, so a shared taxi home wasn’t on, but nonetheless we walked to the taxi rank with her mate and Mike in tow. There was a queue so we had time for more chat, but she seemed more interested in having a snog as we waited. I wasn’t complaining.
She told me she had stockings & suspenders on, and if I could be discreet that I could finger her. I didn’t need a second invitation, reaching down she was soaking and up for more if we could find a suitable place. I thought about my house renovation, but quickly discounted that idea as it was in no fit habitable state. So unfortunately, by the time her taxi arrived, all we could do was exchange contact details and make an arrangement to meet up for a date the following Tuesday.
We had decided on a meal out in Chester, so I booked a table for two at an Italian restaurant. Tuesday arrived, and I drove to Bebington to pick her up. I wasn’t sure of the exact route, no sat nav or Google maps in those days, so I set off allowing some extra time. No mobile phone apps either, to let her know I was early, so I walked up the path and knocked on her door. Her father opened it and invited me in. I tried to have some friendly small talk, but he appeared cold, and distant. I could tell he was weighing me up and for whatever reason there was just no friendly spark in our conversation. We couldn’t even find common ground in football, he was a Liverpool fan and I supported Everton. Rachel told me he was a stern old fashioned controlling type, cardigan, pipe, slippers, newspaper always by his side. I had got on well with all my previous gf’s fathers, I think they saw me as “an honest hard working lad..” and admired the fact that I regularly travelled away from home seeking work in a harsh environment. But for whatever reason, not Rachel’s dad.
Rachel arrived looking lovely, so we said goodbye and headed out. I couldn’t wait to get out, and commented to her that first impressions weren’t great and I had got off to an awkward start with her dad. “Nevermind him..”, she said. “he’s like that with everyone”.
The meal was pleasant, and we had decided to have one drink in a pub across the road before heading back. The conversation with Rachel was the complete opposite of the one with her father. She was easy going, funny, relaxed and spiced up the conversation with lots of innuendo and teasing. Walking back to the car she made it obvious that she wanted to be fucked. Telling me that she had stocking & suspenders on again and she had taken her knickers off in the ladies before she left the pub. Needless to say, we found a secluded spot on the journey home and fucked like rabbits in the back seat of my car. She told me she was on the pill and she wanted it bareback and for me to cum inside her as she loved the feeling. I obliged.
Over the next month or so, when I was home we fucked at every opportunity. Before the pub, after the pub, we also had some weekends away in York & London and spent most of the time in bed fucking. She just loved sex, everything about it. She was easily the horniest girl I had been with, she had a real dirty pervy mind and was constantly looking to push her boundaries, sometimes making my mind boggle with the suggestions coming out of her mouth. But her/ our relationship with her father was breaking down. All the fucking after nights out meant that she was getting home later and later. She was sometimes late for her work, having slept through her alarm the next morning and so her father was always on her case. After one of those episodes it all came to a head and she decided that she had to move out to get some freedom.
She answered an ad in the local paper for a house share. The lady who placed the add was 35 and divorced, her name was Terri, and she had got the house in her separation agreement, but she couldn’t cover the bills on her salary alone. The house was a traditional 3 bedroom semi detached, so she rented the other 2 bedrooms out. Rachel checked it out and it seemed perfect, the rent was a little more than she was giving her parents, but was manageable, and Terri was nice and friendly. The other room was rented by another girl called Carol who was 19, and also seemed quite friendly. Carol had a boyfriend of similar age, and it transpired that she had moved out from her parents home for similar reasons to Rachel, a controlling father. Terri was single but would occasionally bring a guy back who we called her ‘um friend’. While Terri always maintained the relationship was platonic as he was in a relationship with someone else, but we were sure he was her fuck friend when she needed it. Needless to say we all got on pretty well and on the odd occasion we would go out together as three couples to the local pub which was only 10 minutes walk away.
With Terri being the oldest, she was a sort of surrogate mother to Rachel & Carol. She kept the house in order, house rules, routines for washing & cleaning etc, Terri was 12 years older than me and I guess at the time seemed a bit MILF like even at 35. But she had a nice body and was very friendly and easy going. Carol was a stunner, 19 a tall leggy blonde with curves in all the right places. Inevitably with my house under repair and months away from being habitable, I spent most of my evenings and nights at Terri’s, fucking Rachel every night I was there, and she was getting noisier and noisier.
On my trips back to work offshore, obviously no internet or social media in those days, so Rachel would write often, mostly cards and letters, it was generally pure filth, how horny she was, what fantasies she had been having and what she wanted me to do to her when I got home. Being such a tease, and aware that my work colleagues received the mail before I did, she would always write coded messages on the back of the envelope. It started off innocent “S.W.A.L.K. – sealed with a loving kiss”, and got more and more daring. When the envelopes arrived onboard they were generally delivered to the control room and I would pick them up from there. The lads used to tease me that they had worked out the code, which to be fair they generally did.
One day I got a message to say that I had mail, so I went to the control room to get it. This envelope had the letters W.A.Y.G.T.F.M.U.T.B on the back. Where do you start with that I thought..? When I spoke to her on the phone, she wouldn’t give any clues, she said I had to work it out for myself. I tried various combinations but couldn’t quite match it. Unknown to me, the lads in the control room had made a note of the letters, and put it in their handover for the nightshift, to see what they could come up with..
Next morning when I visited the control room, one of the lads quipped that they had cracked the code, and I was a lucky boy. I said, “Come on then, explain..”, he laughed and said “we think it stands for When Are You Going To Fuck Me Up The Bum”. Much embarrassment on my part & piss taking from them ensued. I couldn’t wait for my next call to Rachel that evening to see if they were right. When I called her, she confirmed that it was indeed correct. She told me that she loved anal, but didn’t want to make it too obvious, but she had decided that she couldn’t wait for it any longer. A week to go before I went back home, damn..!
Needless to say, when I got back home, she wasted no time, lube at the ready, issuing instructions of how she wanted to be taken anally. She said that she wanted it “from A to Z, in my arse”. What’s that I said naively, “No foreplay, no pussy, the whole thing from start to finish in my arse,” she said, “ending in a sticky mess”. I wasn’t going to argue, and did as I was told. The next few months were more of the same. Dirty, filthy no holding back sex. She really was a very horny girl, taking my cock in all her holes, she regularly squirted, which was a new experience for me. The bed sheets needed to be changed regularly as she used to get soaking and the room generally smelled of sex.
To be continued…
