A Day in the life of David Williams Part 2

A raucous cacophony assaulted my eardrums. Throwing out my arm I groped for the alarm clock. It took a moment to realise that I didn’t have an alarm clock, having dispensed with the elderly contraption when my mobile phone came with a perfectly accurate one installed. A moment later I realised that the noise was the result of some idiot leaning on my doorbell push.

The ancestral pile, only kidding it certainly wasn’t a pile, I’d inherited it from my Grandma, had six large bedrooms, all en suite and endless extras. I’d had a blue-tooth doorbell system installed with repeaters dotted around the house and outbuildings as required. One such repeater was right outside the master bedroom door. MY bedroom door!

I clambered out of bed and reached for my dressing gown.

“Alright! Alright! I’m coming,” I shouted pointlessly.

Being so close to an international airport the house was very well sound and heat insulated. Add the racket from the doorbell and there was no way anybody would hear anything of my voice.

I gazed around my room and smiled a wry smile, crazy fool! ‘Saved by the bell again’ I muttered to myself as I hastily threw on the gown and tied the belt as I rushed down the stairs while wondering what I’d ordered from Amazon and totally forgotten about. I jerked the front door wide open and… my annoyance dissipated instantly.

Standing on the second step down was an extremely attractive woman of uncertain years. That is I was uncertain, I’m pretty sure she knew to the day. I was guessing 50’s mid 50’s max. She wore a pretty, floaty, summer dress down to just above her knees, strappy sandals and a big, white, wide brimmed summer hat. I say white because that was clearly the base colour, going by the underside of the brim. Everything else was overprinted with masses of bright red Remembrance Sunday poppies. You know the type, stamped out of red paper with a black button in the middle, green ‘leaves’ and a wire to poke through the button hole on your jacket. The ones on her hat weren’t the hand made ones but looked like a whole bunch of them had been artfully posed then photographed. The end result being printed onto the fabric. Very attractive, just like the owner.

“Oops,” she said pulling her finger away from the bell push, “I couldn’t hear it ringing so just kept pressing.”

She had a wonderful smile and her pale blue eyes sparkled with fun and mischief. She glanced down, then up into my eyes again.

“Sorry did I interrupt something exciting? I’m actually looking for a Mr. David Williams… I rather hope I’ve found him,” she glanced down again.

My eyes followed. In my haste to get downstairs I had failed to fasten the tie belt correctly. It had failed and my dressing gown was flapping open from my neck to my knees in the gentle breeze. Too late to make an attempt to cover my decency and the beauty before me seemed more interested than shocked.

“You have. Would you care to step in and explain why you are looking for me?”

I stepped back and held the door open.

“Is it safe?” she giggled prettily.

“It is perfectly safe. Very well behaved, only miss-behaves when invited. You are as safe as you would like to be,” I teased in return.

“I’m not at all sure that I want to be in the least bit safe,” she replied as she brushed passed me.

I closed the door and turned to face her.

“You may not remember me but…”

I held up my hand to halt her.

“Red hat? Hello Bonehead, are you wearing knickers today?”

She grinned the most beautiful of beautiful grins. Bending forward at the waist she took hold of the hem of her dress and straightened up. The hem rose with her hands to reveal stockings and the fact that she was sans knickers.

“I do hope you still prefer smooth David, it bloody hurt!”

I stooped, placed one arm under her bum and the other on her back for support. I straightened up and my hard cock nuzzled against her smooth pussy.

“Well the proportions are still perfect,” she giggled, “find something to lean me against.”

There was only the one option, the back of the front door with the frosted glass insert where the action was about to take place. I leaned her against it and moved my hands to her upper thighs. She guided my rampant cock to where we both needed it to be then wrapped her glorious legs around my waist.

“Fuck me David! Fuck me HARD!”

That was all I needed to hear! I didn’t even consider that she might no longer be able to take it as hard as I used to give nor yet if I was still able to give as hard as she wanted. I pulled her body down as I shoved my cock up and delighted in feeling of my purple headed torpedo forcing it’s way up her tight pussy tunnel to explode out of the end and slam into the top of her cervix.

She screamed! Boy did she scream? I held her tightly in position and squirmed my cock head against her cervix. She glared at me, if looks could kill I’d be…
she smiled, it was slow to start and just got bigger and bigger until she was positively beaming with delight.

“I need to know what I did to deserve that… so I can do it again!” she laughed delightedly before smothering my face with kisses.

With her arms around my neck she pulled herself up until cock and pussy were back at the beginning. I pulled her down and thrust up again. As my cock head hit its target I said ‘you’, I lifted her, she helped and I pulled her down again, ‘broke’, I repeated the actions, ‘into’, I rammed up into her again ‘my’ and buried my cock deep once more, ‘recurring’, ‘erotic’, ‘dream’ ‘just’, ‘as’, ‘it’, ‘was’, ‘coming’, to ‘a’, ‘very’, ‘disappointing’, ‘conclusion’, ‘and’, ‘made’, ‘it’, ‘a’, ‘dream’, ‘come’, ‘true’! Between each word I withdrew my cock, paused then drove it home again. Each thrust I made was accompanied by a satisfied grunt of exertion and received with a whelp of delight and a squawk of shock.

As my balls emptied themselves into her pussy it convulsed, spraying her juices over my cock, balls and thighs. It felt good to be home again. We kissed hard and energetically through our shared orgasm.

“I’ve missed you!”

“I’ve missed you too!”

We snogged frantically for a long time, there is no other way of expressing it. We came up for air eventually. I had to ask the question.

“How come you are here… today?”

“That’s easy, because you weren’t at the funeral.”

“Who’s funeral? When? Where? Why wasn’t I invited?”

“To answer in order, Brian’s, yesterday, Llanarth, because you died ten years ago apparently.”

“Okay, So if I died ten years back how are you here AND how come you were invited? I was told way back that you had died.”

“Brian’s sister was there, she said she was surprised you hadn’t come. I told her you’d died way back. Jeff, her husband said ‘bollocks, we exchange cards regularly, have done for years’. You never mentioned that you used to go out with Brian’s little Sister. As to me being out of touch, Ruth and I exchange Christmas and birthday cards, have done since our college days. How are your children? Grandchildren? Any Great grandchildren yet?”

I looked at her in total shock!

“We need to talk… how long have you got?”

“The rest of my life? I’ll leave when you ask me to and when I do, I’ll leave…” she reached into the top of her dress and pulled her locket out, “this with you because I’ll know I won’t need it any more.”

“I’ll never accept it. It’s engraved ‘together forever’ and that’s what I intended when I gave it to you. Tea? Coffee? Have you eaten?”

“Coffee, please. I had a sandwich when I left Llanarth.”

“That’s five hours away, so you’ve driven through most of the night? Full English with eggs omelet not fried?”

“Fancy you remembering that I don’t like fried eggs. I made a little alteration to the locket, I hope you don’t mind? I had the date we met engraved on the back together with the date I ran away. If things work out between us, could I add today’s date… please?”

“One condition, as you might remember I can’t wear precious metals but my second wife designed a key fob using the same design and had it cast in phosphor bronze. It’s engraved with the date we met and the day we parted. I’d have to have today’s date on my key fob as well.”

“Deal! Your second wife designed a memento for you? Of us?”

“She was a very special lady. Now let me get breakfast organised. There’s something seriously wrong with the stories we’ve been fed. I’d like to get them sorted so we can have a clean start, if that’s OK with you?”

“Perfect! Just like the old days, you talk and I listen. I talk and you listen then we dig deeper if required? Are there ducks about we’re not going to feed?” she laughed.

“Used to be, on the pond. The fox got them. OK if I talk first? It would be easier, wouldn’t be able to give you my full concentration if you talked while I’m cooking.”

“OK, I went to your place and was told that you’d ended your tenancy and that the girl who answered the door had been in for a couple of weeks. I assumed you’d found somebody else and moved on, without wanting to tell me. I hung around in case you changed your mind, more in hope than expectation. Sixteen days later Mum phoned me at work, Grandpa had been rushed to hospital and wasn’t expected to last the night. I rushed home and arrived in time to say my goodbyes.

Grandpa and Grandma Sinclair were Mum’s parents. Dad’s parents went to Canada in the late fifties, I’ve very little memory of them.

Mum and Grandma chided me for not bringing my secret girlfriend home to meet them and demanded to know when they would be introduced. I told them that you’d gone. ‘Silly girl,’ said Mum, ‘doesn’t know a good thing when she sees it’. Grandma said ‘Que sera sera – what will be, will be’ and Dad said, ‘never mind son, plenty more fish in the sea…. Good opportunity for you to start over though. Would be a good idea if you got more involved with the family business. I’m not as young as I used to be.’ ‘You could come and live with me’ added Grandma, ‘you don’t want to be living with those old fuddy duddies at your age, do you?’

I handed in my notice, explaining that I had to help in the family business and moved in with Grandma.

It was constant hard work, schedules to keep, loads to find.

Grandpa had used his photography as a stress buster. My Dad played golf. Mum and Grandma suggested I return to my photography. Mum would be my assistant as before and Grandma would reprise her agent role. Weekdays I slaved in the office and weekends I took photographs of scantily clad beauties. Very relaxing.

1982 I met my first wife, one of my models. Very beautiful, fabulous body and a voracious appetite for hard sex… sound familiar?”

“Very!” she grinned, “wouldn’t have said I was either beautiful or that I had a fabulous body though.”

“Well I would and I was the professional, remember? So we married. She said she didn’t want kids and she wanted to continue working. I had no problem with either. An exhausting wedding night and a totally wasted, expensive honeymoon, we hardly left the bedroom. Might just as well have stayed at home. We move into the bungalow and I’m expecting more of the same. Fat chance! ‘I’m a married woman now, married women don’t do that kind of thing’. Every night and morning in any position is suddenly, vanilla, missionary, in bed, at night with the lights out. No shortage of frequency though, as often as I liked, in the prescribed place. As you might recall, not my cup of tea at all. Boring! Soon once a week was more than I wanted. Then it’s once a month if I’m really desperate. First wedding anniversary, we’re sitting at the table in an expensive restaurant… ‘I’m so sorry Darling and I know I said I didn’t want children but… I don’t know how it’s happened but… I’m pregnant!’

‘Really? Do you know who the father is?’

‘You are Darling! What are you accusing me of?’

‘I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m simply asking who the father of your child is. It cannot be me, I’m impotent, totally unable to father a child.’

“Her face was a picture!”

She looked to be about to say something but instead shook her head and motioned for me to carry on.

“I moved back in with Grandma and continued with my hobby and all was right with the world until Grandma passed. That was a bit of a shock. A year later Dad had a stroke on the golf course and had passed before they got him to hospital. Mum moved in with me.

The business continued to grow. Very little time for relaxing photography sessions so Mum didn’t book any models.

I’d started out with Mum and Grandma as my models, with Grandpa helping and guiding me. Mum became my model again and I relaxed as I made the photograph and rekindled the skill of developing and printing them myself. We didn’t sell any of the photos.

1995, I’m forty eight, working my socks off. Mum’s approaching seventy and still looking after the house, and me while being my model when time allowed. An Art Exhibition in the Village Hall ‘A life through the eyes of Art’ and Mum insists that I should showcase some of my more suitable work.

Mum prepared everything while I was working. All I had to do was help her set everything up in the village hall. The centre piece was a twenty by sixteen of herself breast feeding me on the bench seat here in the back garden. Grandpa had taken it on a five by four inch sheet film camera.

Just to set the scene, this house has always been a clothing optional location. Once I was out of nappies I ran around naked as did Mum, Grandma and Grandpa. Dad was either working or relaxing playing golf. So when I started to take photos I photographed what I saw. Fast forward, I’m off to Uni and Grandpa takes a group photo before I leave. I’m sitting with Mum on my knee and Grandma standing at my side. Mum’s legs are crossed covering her pussy and my cock. Grandma is sideways on hiding her pussy but her upper half slightly turned to profile for the camera. Her head is looking straight down the lens, as are Mum’s and mine.

Mum places the 20 x 16 photo of her breastfeeding me centre stage. The one of me just before going off to Uni is at the front of the desk with a business card reading ‘David Williams – Photographer’ propped up against it, that one’s an eight by ten.

There’s photos of Mum and Grandma everywhere. There are lots of the shots I took at Uni, pretty girls with no clothes on but not top shelf magazine material. She even had a back projection unit set up showing 6x6 transparencies! As a collection of work I felt quite chuffed to be honest. I wandered off to look at the other exhibits while Mum holds the fort. I come back and Mum’s deep in conversation with a very good looking lady of a certain age. Mum calls me over… I look at the woman more carefully then up at the displayed photos. There’s a space!

“Are you looking for this one Darling?” says Mum picking up a photo from behind a stand.

I look at the photo. I look at the woman then back at the photo. I hold the photo along side the woman’s face… ‘Eve?’

‘Hello David, long time no see.’

Eve was one of my models, obviously but she was also a bit special. For a start she was a mature student, nine years older than I. She’d returned to Uni for her Masters and had been instructed by her lover ‘not to let it get rusty – keep it well lubed’. Between us we’d done our very best. Didn’t publish a single photo of her but then I didn’t pay her any modelling fees either. When we parted she confided that her lover was her father. Most of her artwork ‘A life through the eyes of Art’ were sketches, paintings, oil, water colours and just about anything else, of her father… and always naked. She did point out to Mum and me that she’d not thought that those where he was displaying a boner were appropriate for an ‘Art’ exhibition. He’d passed a few years earlier and she’d put the work together in memory.

Mum invited her back to ours for dinner with the suggestion that she needn’t worry about going home after if she didn’t want to. She didn’t want us to sleep together as she said she was very rusty and would probably need a complete rebore. I suggested that I could oil the works for her. By morning she was running as sweet as ever. Mum rang the bedroom to say breakfast was served and to get a move on because we had to be back at the village hall for ten o’clock. Eve was out of bed like a shot with a wicked smile on her face.

‘Well don’t hang about, time’s a wasting. Your Mum said this house is clothing optional, you ready to appear naked with me in front of your Mum? Don’t worry about your boner, I’m certain sure she’ll understand.’

We married in no time at all. Mum and Eve got on like a house on fire. More like sisters than mum and daughter-in-law, mind you there was only twelve years between them. Mum passed in 2008 and Eve in 2019. I have friends now but no partner.

Baked beans or tinned tomatoes with this?”

We ate in silence and I feared that I would end my days with friends but no partner.

“Sorry about that,” she said after clearing her plate with a final wipe around it with a piece of bread and butter, “didn’t realise how ravenous I was. Now I realise it’s not the accepted format but… is this house still a clothing optional location?” she grinned.

When I confirmed that it was she did no more than remove her dress and stockings, left them were they fell and danced around the large kitchen happily singing;

#"I Feel Good, Wow, I feel good, I knew that I would, now, I feel good, I knew that I would, now, So good, so good...#

She stopped before the ‘I got you’ and went back to the beginning.

“You remember, back in the day? I was always walking around the bed-sit naked. I just loved the utter freedom… and you watching my every move. Haven’t been able to do that for way too long. Tried it when I was alone but it didn’t feel the same at all and both my husbands looked uncomfortable with the blatant display of female flesh. OK in the bedroom though, thank god!

It’s a nice day, can we go outside?”

Slipping off my robe I took her hand and led her through the conservatory and out onto the patio.

“Tea or coffee?”

I returned with a pot of coffee and mugs on a tray to discover the patio empty of human life. A quick glance around showed that she was down by the lake, sitting at the picnic table. There were no ducks waiting to be fed. Pouring the drinks I waited for her to start.

“When you came to my bed-sit to look for me I was at my parents house. I knew you’d not find me there because we’d never visited either set of parents while we were together. When I got back to my bed-sit my friend told me that you’d called. She’d told you what we had agreed so no going back. I was heartbroken and relieved all at the same time. I applied for a job abroad and got it. Moved from job to job for over a year then found the perfect job with the perfect boss. In so many ways he was just like you. My stupid logic said that if I couldn’t have you I would have the nearest I could get and I wouldn’t cock it up a second time. I fell hopelessly in love with him. Only problem being that he was already married and had three young children.

I became the perfect PA and hoped. We worked very well together. He never missed a wedding anniversary, always took his wife to the right restaurant to celebrate, brought the right flowers and her favourite chocolates. The kids got the latest fad things for Christmas and birthdays. I was treated as one of the family, a good friend to his wife. We discussed many things that women discuss with their female friends but never with the husband’s PA. She consulted me on presents for him and underwear she might purchase! The office ran like clockwork and I was becoming a major contributor to the growth of the business.

He used to joke that he had a home wife and an office wife. The only problem I had with that was the office wife wasn’t getting what the home wife was, his cock. Everything was perfectly proper except my feelings and I kept those in check… for five whole years! In that time we went away together frequently, meeting, seminars and exhibitions and each and every time I booked two separate rooms and each and every time we slept in our own rooms. No hanky panky, nothing.

We had a big meeting coming up. An exhibition that he needed to see and people he needed to meet and discus business. I was tasked with finding accommodation for the pair of us and a meeting room facility. The best I could do was a large hotel suite, two separate en suites with a large common room which could be organised as a meeting room. I took it.

We flew in, showed to the suite and we walked around. ‘which would you prefer?’ he asked. For devilment I replied ‘the one you are sleeping in’. ‘Really?’ ‘Really!’ ‘We shall have to be very careful.’ ‘I know.’

That night we became lovers. I also discovered the one way he was nothing like you. I could live with it. Back in the office everything carried on as normal. When he worked late I worked late. When he finished early I finished at the normal time. Nothing whatsoever changed. When we went away on business I continued to book two rooms and every morning we each emerged from our own room. The kids grew up, young adults. Two off at university and one on her way in a year. Nothing changed, no extra trips to seminars or exhibitions that weren’t happening. Everything was above board, all proper business activities, except when the bedroom door closed on legitimate business trips.

The youngest is off to Uni. Dad’s busy so the PA is voted extra driver. A long drive, get the sprog sorted and settled. Overnight hotel then a long drive home. All planned, the problem was that being a Uni town and the start of Freshers week all the parents are looking for overnight accommodation. All I can find is a twin bed double, which means I can’t have a long sexy chat with my man while his wife is away. I also don’t want wifey seeing that I’m fit, very fit either. I pack all encompassing PJ’s and a long housecoat. Drive down no problem, feed the sprog and get her settled. I give her the envelope of pocket money while Mum’s not looking and we head for the hotel. No problems. At dinner she has a bit too much to drink, gets quite talkative. We discuss what she’ll do with her empty nest. She leans forward conspiratorially ‘I’m going to get a divorce, at last. My lover has asked me to move in, set up home together.’

My heart did backflips and somersaults at the same time. My head continued to function properly. ‘How long has this been going on?’ ‘Oh, years! Years and years. You should meet her, she’s wonderful!’ Butterflies in my stomach. ‘Urrmm, I don’t think that the rules bother about the sex of the illicit partner. What sort of settlement are you expecting?’ ‘I’m not really expecting anything, access to the kids if they’ll still talk to me? She’s in business, got her own house. I’ve got my savings. The only thing I need is my freedom, he can keep everything else.’ ‘and when are you planning on telling him?’ ‘Well that’s why I wanted some private time with you… could you sound him out for me? I’m going anyway, one way or another but I’d like it to be amicable.’ ‘It’s not something we could discuss in the office and I can hardly pop around one evening to chat about it, can I?’ ‘Haven’t you got a trip somewhere in the next week or so, can you talk to him then?’ ‘Well you know him, all business. Fully focussed on what he’s planning until the end then he’s working out how to maximise his advantage. Telling him his wife wants a divorce would not be a good move, I think.’ ‘Could you arrange to stay over a couple of extra days? Help him to unwind maybe? Ease it into the conversation somehow?’

“Two extra days in Venice with his wife’s knowledge and consent would be very acceptable, to both of us.”

‘Let me think about it. I’ll see what I can do. Anytime I shouldn’t contact you at home?’ ‘We usually meet in the afternoons so, mornings would be good.’

Back in the room she didn’t seem at all put out by my being present. She was clearly the ‘wife’ in the arrangement and a good choice, had I been that way inclined. Most of the drive home we fleshed out ideas, me acting the part as required.

We’d discussed the possibility of him asking for a divorce once the kids had grown up, now we had a way out. Just needed a little finesse. Next day in the office I wrote ‘We need to talk – Urgent’ on a post it note and stuck it to his mug when I delivered his morning coffee. He read it, put it through the shredder and looked at me. ‘When?’ Trouble?’ I told him ASAP and no, not trouble, an opportunity, if we play things right. We worked late that night, very late, preparing for our business trip to Venice. We had a great time in Venice. The divorce went through without a hitch. Being the gent he was, he made a handsome settlement for his wife. I moved into the spare bedroom to look after him at her suggestion, until he found a housekeeper of course, and we married a year later. The kids, his ex and her partner, my parents and most of the staff attended.

Eleventh wedding anniversary, we’re eating out. Parked the car, walking to the restaurant. Some fucking idiot decided the red light didn’t apply to him. My husband pushed me clear. When I picked myself up the front of the car was totalled against the barrier, my husband was somewhere in between.

When I started with the company I was the fifth employee. When he died we had over one hundred and fifty, in offices all over Europe. Most of them attended his funeral along with the kids, grand-kids, his ex and her partner Julie, my parents and loads of friends. It was a big occasion. Julie came over ‘don’t beat yourself up’ she said. ‘It’s fate and it was his time but not yours. It wasn’t to be, your fate lies ahead of you’. Weird or what? I spoke to my Mum, she just looked down and smiled. I looked down. I was stroking the locket! ‘Are you going to try and find him?’ ‘No, he’s married with kids, I’ll not do that again!’

His will said ‘I leave my entire estate to my wife’. He didn’t give his wife’s name! I inherited everything and felt very bad about it. The kids weren’t interested in working in the company. His wife knew nothing about it so I took over. After about eighteen months I’d had enough. I went round the family trying to find somebody to take it on. No luck so I sold up. I kept twenty five percent and split the rest between the kids and his ex. I kept the house and one of the chalets on the Med. Six months later I moved back home, hark at me, ‘home’? I’d lived abroad longer than I’d lived in England. Purchased a place on the coast so that I could visit my parents more easily.

I made a bucket list of things to do and places to see. I spent five years ticking them off. On one of the later trips I met Ted, older than me by a long way. A widower and working through his own bucket list. We got on well, compared bucket lists and rearranged our plans. We took two trips together, saving on the single person supplements. On the way home from the second trip he proposed. We married, my parents attended and we set off for a three month honeymoon exploring South America. We went off grid for about a month in Argentina and Patagonia. When we returned to civilisation and our itinerary three messages were awaiting me, my dad had died, My Mum was in hospital and my Mum had died. I rang a neighbour to be told the funerals had already taken place.

Ted suggested that we moved into their bungalow but it was too close to pain and sorrow. We rented it out and I went back into the rentals business. The market was good so Ted and I pooled our resources and I brushed up on the different legal requirements. We had fifteen good years together. Ted died three years ago, old age the Doctor said. I continued with the business.

When the funeral notice came through I decided straight away that I was going and if you were there I’d at least try to speak with you, catch up without upsetting the wife, you understand?

The rest you know.