Mary's Leaving Do

Parts of this story are absolutely true. It's not really about Mary, but one of her friends...

I lived in London for a long time and played in a few bands. One of them was a jazz band; usually six or seven of us, always with a female vocalist and occasionally with a drummer. We all knew each other from other musical ventures and we all had an interest in early jazz and blues so had got together to see if we could do something with jazz with an emphasis on dancing. We had a common repertoire of jazz standards from between the wars -- mostly songs which people might know and could sing along to but with a few more unusual tunes which we introduced gradually. We practised every week and got some regular residencies in local pubs and a few decent gigs, the most prestigious being a well known London jazz restaurant -- only a small place but it was one of the places that the top artists would play as a warm-up before doing the bigger venues. Admittedly, we got the booking because our banjo player wrote the house magazine for the proprietor but we got a good reception. We played at street fairs, garden parties, Christmas events and so on and we had a weekly residency in a pub near one of the big railway stations. We were pretty reasonable as a dance band and got some well paying and prestigious gigs (at London Zoo in the Aquarium would you believe!) but we all had full-time jobs so no-one really had the motivation to get more fully professional.

The banjo player's wife, Mary, was a producer at a big media company. She was due to leave the company so we were booked to play at her leaving do in the basement of the building. It was a good party; we played well enough and had fun, there was plenty of food and drink and the audience seemed to enjoy what we were doing. The punters were mostly drinking and chatting but some were dancing which always makes us play better. It was a media company, so there were a lot of people around who were dressed in trendy and wild fashions and their dancing, conversation and in their movements and conversation was flamboyant -- sometimes extremely so. I guess this was because they were media types -- without being actors, they were nevertheless around creative people so lived up to the reputation and felt they had to be dramatic.

We finished our set and the party-goers started to say their goodbyes, get their coats on and drift off. As we were packing up our gear -- thankfully not much as we mostly played acoustically - one of Mary's girlfriends came over to the band area and started chatting with us; she was looking for a lift home. I'd noticed her earlier in the evening as she was one of the more striking looking women there. She was quite attractive, not stunning but well put together physically and nicely dressed as well; tight black curly hair, trim figure, pretty blouse and calf length skirt with knee length boots in a sort of gypsy-Bohemian style. She was also clearly very outgoing; she'd danced exuberantly and been very animated in talking with a large number of people. She was probably slightly older than me (but that wasn't unusual as I was the youngster in the band).

She didn't fancy the tube or a taxi at that time of night as she was a little tipsy and tired and affected by the emotion of her friend leaving. All the other members of the band lived on the opposite side of town - in the wrong direction so since I was going roughly in her direction and could pass her street without too much of a diversion, I volunteered.

The woman - I'll call her Jen - lived not far away in central London. It was only about 3 miles but it would still take 20 minutes to get there with traffic lights and general London traffic, even at the time of night. My car wasn't far away so we didn't have to walk far as I carried my instrument and led Jen to the passenger door. We got in, buckled up and she told me where she lived. This was before GPS and SatNav so I worked out roughly how to get there and hoped she could direct me once we got close. I had most of my concentration on the traffic and navigating the route to her region of London which I wasn't very familiar with. My plan was to get us in the rough vicinity of her flat and let her tell me the details of which streets to take and where to park. There were lots of one-way streets and it was easy to get disoriented. She sobered up as I drove and was very talkative. She did most of the chatting but I glanced across to her as we drove and had to stop at traffic lights.

She complimented our playing and our outfits (not a uniform, but we all dressed quite sharply and colourfully). She asked how I long I'd known Mary and her husband; how long we'd been playing together as a band; whether I had a day job or earned my living playing music. I was mildly amused by her questions and comments and began to take an interest in her, asking what she did at the company, how long she'd lived in London, whether she was single or not and so on.

She was stretching and wriggling in the seat as we drove, playing with the seat belt as it went across her chest. It didn't seem that she was really uncomfortable, just a bit hot as she shrugged off her jacket. I had a people carrier at the time so the seats were a bit vertical -- more like a bus or van seat than a saloon or sports car bucket seat. I thought perhaps she just found the position a bit unusual.

"Are you hot?" I said, "Shall I turn the heating down or open a window?"

"No, it's OK -- I'll just take my jacket off. These clothes are just a bit tight. I can't wait to get out of them."

She slipped her jacket off -- I couldn't see why her blouse should be tight, it seemed loose enough to me but maybe her skirt was digging in. As I thought this, I saw that she pulled it up a little to show her knees and bare skin above her boots.

"I'm really grateful for you giving me a lift," she said. "It's really not safe to wander around central London at this time of night. There's all sorts of weirdos around and a girl can't be too careful."

"But you're quite happy to take a lift from a total stranger?" I replied, with a little smile. "You don't know how weird I am yet."

Then she started asking more personal questions, again starting with the band but then more directly about me. How did I know the other band members, was I married, how long had I been married, was I happy? I was amused more than offended -- I wondered if she'd had more to drink than I thought and had lost her inhibitions. I was very slow to realise that she was flirting with me.

As we got closer to her flat, she began paying more attention and chatting less. I took a couple of wrong turnings and had to loop around so she would put her hand on my arm to direct me and a couple of times left her hand on my arm or on the seat next to my leg. I would apologise for my lack of street knowledge and she repeatedly said how grateful she was that I was going out of my way to get her home safely, calling me her white knight or some other silly phrase.

Anyway, we got to her street and I parked up. She still wanted to chat and as she got to saying goodbye, I expected a casual "Cheerio, and thanks for the lift", but instead, she moved in for a kiss.

OK, I thought; she was obviously one of the dramatic "media" types, so I prepared for one or two pecks on alternate cheeks and moved my head to try and match her movement.

But no, she went straight for my lips. I was surprised by this but again, I thought perhaps she was just a very touchy-feely sort of person but her mouth stayed attached to mine and she put her hand on my shoulder to show that she meant to stay there. Her lips moved on mine and her tongue poked through, seeking a gap to find mine. At this point, did I think I thought it rude not to respond? Or more likely I thought this was too good to pass up.

I parted my lips and our tongues found each other and played. The initial urgency of the woman passed away as she sensed that I was keen to play my part as we kissed enthusiastically. She didn't back away, so we continued to kiss as she breathed rhythmically and edged towards me in her seat, leaning forward. The blouse she was wearing was rather low cut and loose. Below my eyeline, I couldn't see clearly but I knew it was gaping open as her breasts pushed forward.

"That was rather nice; you're a good kisser, must be all that playing and using your lip muscles. Shall we go inside?" She said, breaking the kiss momentarily before hungrily returning her lips to mine.

I didn't want to seem too eager, but this was a clear offer I couldn't -- and didn't want to -- ignore. I was still elevated from an evening's enjoyable playing and the lust this woman was transmitting had bypassed my brain. We broke off kissing and Jen collected her clothes as she led the way.

I left the car and followed her to her door. She lived in a three storey building on the top floor so I followed her up the steps. The building was quite old - a typical London Victorian redbrick in a terrace of flats. She lifted her skirt up a bit as she went up the steps, maybe to prevent her boots catching on it but as she pulled it across her buttocks, it emphasised the swell of her cheeks and the sway of her hips. Again, I saw the bare skin above her boots, this time into the pits of her knees and with a glimpse of her thigh. She looked fit and her legs looked well muscled. Definitely my type and I was keen to see more. She unlocked the door to her flat and we went in. She flicked a light switch which gave a gentle light to the room -- the flat was pretty modern inside; not over-furnished but with just enough chairs and soft furnishings to give a comfortable feel.

"Make yourself comfortable on the sofa there," she said. "Give me your jacket and I'll get some drinks."

"Just black coffee or water for me please, I'm driving," I said, taking off my "band" jacket and giving it to her. I sat down on the sofa and looked around as she went into the kitchen. She seemed to be taking her time and I wondered how long I'd get to stay; whether our clinches in the car would be repeated or whether it was time for awkward conversations and then slipping away into the night.

Finally, she came back with a coffee for me and a red wine for her. She was wearing my jacket, buttoned up over her skirt. The jacket was quite snug for me but on her slim frame, it hung loosely off her shoulders and came down well below her hips. Even fastened to the top button, the jacket formed a deep "V" and I saw a large expanse of flesh, with no sign of her blouse. As she set the drinks down on the table in front of the sofa, she bent at the waist and I could see right down the jacket, leaving no doubt that she'd taken the blouse off before putting the jacket on.

"Do you like this? Is it a nice look?" She said, straightening up and turning slightly so I saw her side on, then faced me holding the jacket lapels to show off her swelling breasts. She breathed deeply and stretched to emphasise her cleavage.

I really didn't know what to say. The jacket certainly looked good on her and her posing left me in no doubt that she wanted more than a quick drink.

"It's very nice," I finally got my mouth working. "It looks better on you than it does on me." I figured it was time for me to exert a bit of authority; "but I really don't think it goes with the skirt." She looked at me quizzically. "So you'd better take the skirt off. Please." I said this as an instruction, without a hint of a question. Although I felt quite nervous, I tried not to let this show in my voice.

Jen hesitated for a second and looked harder at me, narrowing her eyes. I raised my eyebrows to indicate that I was serious, then she put her hands to the side of her skirt underneath the jacket and began to undo the clasp and the zip. When the zip had reached the bottom of its travel, she let her hands drop by her side and the skirt fell to the floor. She stepped sideways out of the skirt and left it there on the floor.

"Now come here." She walked slowly around the table, trying but failing to keep the jacket from opening and exposing her panties. She stood in front of me, looking down at me and quivering, her hands clasped in front covering the gap at the jacket front. She sensed that I was taking control and was anticipating how I might instruct her next.

Without saying anything, I raised my hand to touch her leg, just above the knee and I drew it upwards slowly. Her leg trembled as my hand disappeared under the jacket hem and stroked the inside of her thigh. My hand lingered on the soft skin and I could feel he knees buckle slightly. I looked at her face as she made a sound and saw she was biting her bottom lip with her eyes closed.

"I like the soft skin here. Open your eyes please." As I said this and her eyes opened to look at me, I moved my hand rapidly upwards to push into her pussy through her panties. She gasped in shock as my hand pressed between the clefts of her pussy lips and she lifted slightly onto her toes. Her eyes widened and then closed slightly as I began moving my hand backwards and forwards, gradually widening the slit between her lips. She sank back onto her feet and bent her knees slightly to make more room for my hand. If I'd felt a touch of moisture when my hand first touched her panties, there was a stream of liquid now. Her panties were soaked and every time I moved my hand, I heard a squelching sound as her panties took in more of her juices.

"Can you hear that?" She nodded her head, her eyes now closed again and her hands bunched in fists at her side, clenching and unclenching. Her legs were quivering as I pushed her panties into her sopping wet slit and rubbed her lips with my fingers, increasing the pressure gradually and forcing the cloth onto her clit. She reached out with her hands and put them on my shoulders to steady herself. As she bent, the jacket gaped open and I saw her bare breasts sway under the jacket, her nipples erect and hard where they were rubbing on the jacket lining. As I rubbed between her legs, squeezing her panties between her damp lips and grazing her clit, she quivered and made small mewing sounds. I could tell she was close to coming so I kept up the pressure, stroking faster and tilting my wrist so my fingers rubbed directly on her swollen clit. Her sounds became louder and her legs shuddered as she came and a fresh flow of viscous liquid flooded her panties.

Her legs buckled completely and she sank back onto her knees, releasing my hand as her hands left my shoulders and slid down my shirt onto my thighs. Her head fell into my lap and her cheek rested on my erection which was trapped in my trousers. She took her time to stir and gradually came to.

"Take my cock out please Jen," I said, even as her hands were moving from my thighs to my waist, feeling to release my belt and pull the zip down. I lifted my hips and Jen pulled my trousers off my legs. She kissed my member through my shorts, her dark curls providing a strong contrast to the white cotton. "Take my trousers off first please." She pulled the trousers completely down and took my shoes and socks off, casting them aside. Her hands returned to my cock, swollen and trapped in my shorts. As she fondled and squeezed it through the cotton, she raised her eyes to mine and her tongue peeked out of her lips.

Her head bent down and she licked the head of my cock through the cotton. It jerked involuntarily and mounded the fabric. She pulled the waistband down to expose the tip of my member and licked the drops of precum from it. I struggled to prevent my hands from forcing her head down into my lap, but that's where she went anyway, pulling my shorts down and sinking her head fully onto my cock, licking from the base to the tip, coating it with her saliva so it glistened. As my cock twitched upwards to meet her, she pulled the foreskin back and wrapped her lips around the head, gently moving up and down, just taking the head and the swollen knob into her mouth. My cock rose and swelled as she bobbed her head and she closed her hand around my shaft, stroking up and down as her head rose and fell.

Jen was in control again. My brains had gone to my balls and I was allowing her to dictate the pace. I was aching to fuck her; I put my hands on either side of her head and forced myself deeper into her mouth. Her eyes widened again as my cock hit the roof of her mouth and slid back over her tongue. I started to fuck her face, without pushing so far that she gagged on my cock. After a few strokes, when she appeared to be getting relaxed with my member sliding deeper into her mouth, I pulled out completely.

"Turn around please and bend over the table." Although Jen hadn't said anything since she brought the drinks in, she was responding positively to my every command. She sat back, turned on her knees and bent over the coffee table, turning her head to one side. The jacket still covered most of her backside so I moved forward to the edge of the couch so I could easily reach her. I flipped the rear vent of the jacket over her back, revealing her creamy white arse with her black lacy panties bunched into a thin strip running down the cleft between the round globes of her arse cheeks. The cloth glistened with the pussy juices soaked into it.

I reached forward to put my hands on the strip of cloth at Jen's hips and peeled her panties slowly down, exposing her buttocks and easing the fabric from between her cheeks. A string of pussy juice stretched between her lips and the panties, showing how wet she was. Her lips were swollen and the folds of her inner lips showed. I pulled her panties down to her knees and left them there to explore her pussy with my fingers, stroking up and down and teasing her inner folds. I spread her cheeks and exposed her pink love tunnel and the puckered hole of her arse. My fingers went inside her pussy and stretched the hole wider as I moved gently in and out, pressing at the front of her vagina to feel for her G-spot. Jen moaned and pushed back onto my probing fingers, angling her hips and trying to open her legs against the stretched panties. She was forcing my fingers to rub in different places around her pussy but succeeded in spreading her liquid around her opening and over her red lips.

I continued to finger fuck her, stretching her lips and enjoying the moans from my vantage point. She squirmed and was desperately trying to spread her legs. I didn't want to stop, but I couldn't go much longer without fucking her for real. My cock was stiff and throbbing, bouncing as the blood flowed through it and my own excitement built.

When I judged that her moans were reaching a crescendo, I pulled my fingers out of her pussy and pulled her panties fully down, over the boots and onto the floor. She groaned as I stopped fucking her but parted her legs in relief as her panties hit the floor. I leaned forward again and buried my face in her open hole, licking the juices from around her lips and now fucking her with my tongue where my fingers had been. I pressed down on her lower back under the jacket to tilt her hips, pushing her arse upwards and opening her slit more to give more room for my tongue. My nose was pressed close to her brown puckered hole as I licked and probed. She was clean, but there was a rich smell from her arse and her pussy. Her juices kept flowing as I licked and the salty taste made me want more.

"Keep doing that; your tongue feels so good. I'm close to cumming again," Jen murmured between her moans.

I reached round to her clit with my free hand and pressed on the hood as I continued to lick. Jen's legs started to go into spasms again as I pressed and licked.

"Oh, Oh, Oh." Her breath came in short pants as her orgasm began. I tried to keep the pressure of my tongue in her pussy but she was shaking too much. "Ohhh, MMMmmm, NNgh!" she was just short of a scream as she came and pushed me back, trying to close her legs trapping my hand on her clit.