Written by Bob
2 Jun 2019
- 7 Comments
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7 minute read
Many years ago my Father suddenly passed away. He was a builder and decorator, self-employed, worked in the local area and dropped dead ‘on-the-job’. Not what you are thinking, he was stood on a plastic milk float plastering one minute and dead on the floor, the next.
I was at college and the Principal called me out of the lecture , gave me the message from my Mother and drove me home. I had just finished my final exams and was considering what to do. I was not particularly bright and did not expect any great results that would let me go to University.
Mum and I were distraught and we had a couple of tough weeks waiting for a Post- Mortem and then the funeral. He had suffered heart failure and it was said it could have happened at any time due to a congenital heart condition.
A few weeks later I left college, I was 18 years old and had no idea what I was going to do. Mum had virtually no income, she was a ‘dinner lady’ at the local primary school. Dad had always brought in good money and appeared to have an endless list of new building and decorating work. Mum said that he had never advertised it just came by ‘word of mouth’.
I had worked with him during holidays and occasional weekends since I was about 10 and being quite tall and strong, I could do most building, painting, landscaping and the like, to a reasonable standard. The calls were still coming in, Mum let all the calls go to the answering machine and could not bring herself to reply. I decided to start calling some of the people back and considered doing some of the simpler work. Mum agreed when I told her and agreed to help by driving me to jobs as I had not yet passed my Driving Test.
As the weeks went by, I just kept giving prices for work and getting the jobs. I was in business and the work was flat-out, it was difficult with not driving but Mum carried the equipment and materials to the job in Dad’s old pick-up and I often cycled home. A lot of the ‘old dears’ I did work for ‘mothered’ me, there were constant cups of tea, sandwiches, biscuits and cakes.
One evening I went to a mid-terrace Georgian style house to give an estimate and was greeted by a strange couple, he was I guess in his fifties and his wife considerably younger, maybe mid-thirties. My first thought was it was his daughter but the way she sat so close to him and touched him, seemed wrong. He showed me the stairs and landing he wanted decorated, it had very high ceilings and a large window onto the garden at the back. There were two staircases but I judged I had enough ladders and sheets for the job. He said he used to do his own decorating but had an accident at work which left him unable to do things, like that. He seemed fit enough, but I did not care about his reasons, it was work. When we returned to the downstairs his rather timid wife had made tea and we sat a drank it in the lounge while I did a few calculations and estimated a price. The wife sat very close to him, holding his arm in a peculiar way. She was quite tall, long fair hair but sort of plain, nothing distinctive about her but could have been quite attractive, with a bit of effort. Her skirt was quite short, and she had long pale legs which she kept moving about. I looked up from my calculations on one occasion to ask a question and could see her panties, which made concentrating difficult, she noticed my stare and closed her legs. The next time it was the same, possibly even wider apart. She was still clinging to her husband’s arm. I started sneaking a look, not lifting my head up fully and it was clear she was flashing me. I started to get quite a ‘stiffy’ and felt quite embarrassed. I quickly finished my figures and gave Mr Mitchell my price for the job.
The following day, Mum told me that Mr Mitchell had left a message asking when I could start the work. During the day I called their number and Mrs Mitchell answered and suggested I could start Monday week. She said that was fine, they would be ready.
On the agreed day, I arrived at 8 O’clock and Mr Mitchell answered the door. I started to carry in the dust sheets, and he said he had to leave for work, but his wife would be down soon. I carried the first arm full of dust sheets up the first staircase and as I turned around by the large window, Mrs Mitchell was stood at the top of the second staircase in a short ‘baby-doll’ night dress. She was lit by the light flooding in the window and looked startled, ‘oh’ she said and after a short pause, and she disappeared into the bathroom. She had looked very young, vulnerable and quite beautiful and I was very exited and shaken, but carried on up the stairs dropping the sheets at the far end of the upstairs hallway.
I was laying the sheets down on the floor when she emerged from the bathroom with a towel around her body and her wet hair wrapped in a towel on her head. She smiled at me and rushed into her bedroom.
Having finished sheeting, I brought in the ladders and put them in place upstairs ready to start the rubbing down and clearing. As I carried more materials up the stairs, Mrs Mitchell appeared on the landing at the top of the first staircase in a pretty dress with full skirt and the light through the window behind her showed her body shape, particular her legs and the gap between her upper thighs and crotch, which was very shapely. She asked my name as I stared at her image on the stairs. Tom, I replied, and she asked if I would like a cup of tea or coffee. 'I am Sue' she said and she brushed past me down the stairs. I was quite shaken by how sexy she looked and her confidence, no sign of the plain timid women when he saw her with her husband. I started work and she soon carried a mug of tea upstairs and placed it on the rung of one of the step ladders.
After a couple of hours of preparation and sanding the wood work, Sue called up the stairs asking if I wanted lunch. I had brought sandwiches with me but said ‘Yes please’. I cleaned up and joined her in the large kitchen. Sue indicated that I should sit at the table and placed a bowl of soup in front of me. There was also a large plate of sandwiches, for us to share.
She sat opposite me and encouraged me to start. She asked me about my Father, my Mother, how things were going. She said, ‘you are a very young man to be running your own business, did you go to university or college?’ ‘College’, I spluttered ‘I have just left, I am only eighteen, well almost nineteen’, I added nervously. She pushed back her chair and looked astonished, ‘eighteen’? ‘you look much older, you are very tall and well built. She got up and walk around the table and stood behind me. Placing her hands on my shoulders she felt my muscles and kind of hugged me. ‘it must be so tough, working through this difficult time’, she slid her hands down my arms, her breasts were laid on my back and my cock started to stir. ‘You enjoyed looking at my legs and panties, when we first met?’ she whispered in my ear. ‘Very much, I said’. ‘So, did I and Eric’ she replied, ‘my husband still gets sexual desire but cannot perform, his accident has left him unable to make love to me’.
‘We would like you to fuck me on a regular basis, but being younger than we thought, how experienced are you?’ I did not know what to say. Should I lie and say I was very experienced or admit the truth and hope that did not put her off. ‘I’ve had a few girlfriends but never been all the way, with them’ I said hesitantly. She suddenly kissed my neck and hugged me from behind, ‘perfect she said, will you let me teach you?’.