Spring Autumn and Summer

Spring, Autumn and a Sprinkling of Summer

ONE

"Fuck off. I want a real man. Not a mummy's boy."

Bright red, I turned away, shaking inside. Another turndown. And an embarrassing one. I could hear her laughing as I walked back to my mates in the crowded bar. They'd laugh as well. They'd seen me fall flat on my face far too many times. Every one of them had done the same on occasion. It was sort of an occupational hazard. It was just me that was consistent at it though.

"Not interested then?"

"Nah. Got a boyfriend." I lied.

"Worth a try though."

I checked the time on my phone as a distraction.

"Another round?"

No one objected to that. And it allowed me to avoid an immediate ribbing for my unbroken streak of failure.

I saw the girl from the corner of my eye as I placed my order. Shame. She was fucking gorgeous. All legs in a tight little cream dress. Slender with long blonde hair. That was the image of the perfect girl I carried around in my head. Being told to fuck off with such disdain wasn't part of the fantasy though. But I was becoming used to it.

"Cheers."

I handed my money over to the bartender and waited for the change. The girl was being chatted up by an older bloke as I grouped the pints to carry. He looked like a serial cheater who probably knocked girls about. The pretty blonde however had transformed from Harpy to sugar and spice and all things nice. Bitch.

"Come on then Alfie. What is it with you and birds? Are you gay?"

"Fuck off, Kenny.

And stop calling them birds."

"They like Abba. So they're birds."

"You like Abba."

"Coz the birds do."

I shook my head. How had I ended up with a reject from a nineteen-seventies Carry On movie as a mate? Kenny didn't give up.

"Come on. You can tell us. Must be a reason you're still a virgin."

So much for not getting a ribbing.

"Just has to be the right girl."

"That's your problem. Always the same type. Has to be blonde. Has to be slim. You know what they say? Any port in a storm."

"I have standards."

"And a lot of good they're doing you."

Graham lifted his pint and supped it like a dehydrated desert survivor.

"You should try a fatty, or an old girl."

"I did. Kenny's mum."

Kenny just shrugged.

"Fair enough. I'd do her."

That generated a round of disgust from me and Graham.

"That's your mum."

"Still a bird if you take an objective view."

"For fuck sake." I put my head in my hands.

"He did have a parrot once."

I lifted my head to stare at Graham.

"Remember that girl with the multicoloured hair and the ring in her nose, and those pumped-up lips? Pretty sure she was more parrot than human."

Kenny reminisced.

"Fuck yeah. She was crazy. And those lips. Fucking hell, she knew how to use those."

I fidgeted on my seat with a cock that was reminding me I had no idea how great that could feel.

"Wanna know something funny?"

I dreaded what he'd come out with next.

"I gave my mum a lift to work the next morning. Condensation on the windscreen is a big betrayal when it highlights bare footprints right in front of your mum's eyes."

"What did you tell her?" Graham asked.

"Nothing. I saw her glare at me, but what could I say? There is no scenario in the whole wide world where size five footprints end up on the windscreen of a car several feet apart that doesn't involve me between the owner's legs."

"Imagine if she'd had big feet. Your mum would have thought you were gay."

So that was it. Another regular Friday night of us drinking, taking the piss, saying things that weren't allowed in polite company, and staggering home.

At nineteen everything seems to take an age. We're still partially in a childhood we aren't quite ready to leave behind, and impatient for the adult world of material things and meaningful relationships. A kind of limbo land.

I wanted a girlfriend desperately. I was like any nineteen-year-old. My cock was constantly hard and my head was full of fantasies about the perfect girl. Unfortunately, it was an image most rarely lived up to, and I was shit at making conversation when I found one that did.

My lustful thoughts leapt from one girl to the next. Each of them brushing away my clumsy interest with disdain. It felt as if I was destined to spend my life wanking and alone.

It was Graham who struck lucky tonight. A woman around thirty in a tight dress approached him. I watched with Kenny as the two of them chatted in a corner, slowly getting closer and closer. She was a looker. A slender brunette with long hair and a colourful tattoo on her thigh. Too old for me, and she wasn't blonde. But she was okay.

"Married."

I looked at Kenny as he sipped his lager.

"How do you know?"

"I just do. Old man's probably at home with the kids while she's told him she's out with the girls. She's taking her opportunity."

I rolled my eyes.

"You can't know that."

"Why do you think she's chatting Graham up? Older bird. Young stud. That's what they do. Find the youngest lad in the bar. No risk of it getting out of hand. She knows he'll shag her and never even ask for her number. We're a safe bet for those types. Prey."

"I think you've been watching too many old eighties movies."

I wondered why none ever hit on me. Even the older ones didn't see me as worth pursuing.

"Looks nice in that dress but I bet she's got saggy tits from breastfeeding and a pussy stretched from pushing a kid out."

"You're just jealous."

I looked back at the woman. She was face-planting Graham and it was suddenly me feeling the jealousy. Another night, another strikeout.

"You should have been a seventies bloke. Easier then."

I turned to look at Kenny.

"How would you know? You weren't even a sperm in the nineteen seventies."

He shrugged.

"Reincarnation."

"Who were you? Hugh Hefner?"

Monday was a turning point in my life. A new job. One which made use of my sixth-form education and offered a path forward, at least in the material sense. I'd already bought a newer Golf on the strength of the increased pay.

It was a local manufacturing plant churning out injection moulded plastic housewares. A hugely successful household name. I was going to be the Planner for production. All work schedules and inventories. But it was what else it offered that mattered more. Day release to college for a degree and progression to management.

It was also a new territory with new friends to be made. A widening of my life experience. Yeah, that was bullshit for 'there be girls'.

There were. A Sales Office with six of them, but not a single blonde and only one who looked hot.

I took the tour with Bob leading the way. He was the Production Manager. A friendly laid-back fellow in his late fifties. It was his job I saw coming my way in a few years. He'd made no secret in the interview process that he was looking for his replacement almost as keenly as he was looking for a retirement home in the Algarve.

"You're young. But you have professionalism." He'd said.

"You have a maturity that's lacking in most of the youth today."

I wondered if he'd think that if he saw me with Kenny and Graham.

"I like that. Mouldable. In a few years, you could fill my shoes if you get your head down and work hard."

He was right in one respect. I was ambitious with a life plan. He'd get that dedication from me in spades.

Bob said hello to everyone with a warmth they seemed to appreciate. A boss who cared about his people. It was something I'd aim to emulate. Fair but firm. Of course, I wasn't a manager yet and most of the factory staff were older than me. It's daunting giving instructions to middle-aged men. I had an important scheduling role, but it wasn't my place to order anyone around. That was still a few years away.

The factory was noisy and smelt of burning plastic and oil. Volatile organic compounds hung in the air with a slightly sweet scent. It was mostly men working here. Machine Setters in green overalls and technicians who worked alongside them. Others handled the freshly moulded products onto conveyor rollers to carry them away.

Through another wall the noise died away and the need to shout ended.

"This packing and despatch."

I glanced around at the staff busily palletising our products ready for storage in the colossal warehouse behind them. Row upon row of wide-aisle pallet racking. Electric trucks whizzed around storing or collecting pallets for the loading bay. Bob was explaining it all as we walked.

There were more women here. All different ages. I was hunting out any that were possibilities for my pathetic attempts at chat-up.

Bob singled out one to approach.

"Busy day today?"

She was a distinctive red-headed woman operating a pallet strapping machine.

"Always busy."

She dropped a plastic hood over the goods and pressed a foot peddle. With a whine and whipping sound, four plastic straps bound the load securely.

"Any chance of a pay rise?"

I saw straight away she was confident. Not someone who would take any shit.

"Sorry. This is Eve.

Eve, meet Alfie."

"Eve is Queen in here."

I smiled politely as I glanced at her hair. It was wild and thick. Had she just checked me out? I saw a grin appear on her face.

"Boudicca?"

I wished I hadn't said that as her eyes fixed on me.

"Hi, Alfie. Are we going to be seeing a lot of you?"

Thank fuck. She wasn't offended.

"Not sure. I'm mainly in the office I think."

"Not good enough. We expect you to visit at least once a day. The sight of a virile young man makes us work faster."

Those eyes dropped down my body before coming back up to fix me with a piercing stare.

"The sight of a tight bum gets the blood pumping."

I almost stepped back from her. Christ. She was older than the bird Graham had shagged Friday night. A good ten years or more. No, thank you.

"Eve's a character. Don't let her intimidate you." Bob said.

"Leave the poor boy alone, Eve. I don't want to be interviewing again by the end of the week."

"It's okay. I don't bite.

It's just nice to have some new talent to ogle. Bob's getting past it."

I wasn't so sure about that. A woman in her forties hitting on me was a little frightening. The hair didn't help. It made her look as if she'd put a curse on me or something. I was fairly certain she did bite if she felt the need.

Bod saved me from any more embarrassment with the female version of Kenny by moving away to explain the set-up and the importance of my role in its smooth running.

"That Eve's a bit forward isn't she?"

"She's harmless. She rules the roost in packing. If you need anything, she's the one to go to. But don't show any weakness though. She'll eat you up and spit you out in bubbles."

"Is that my test?"

"If you can handle Eve, you can handle anything. But make no mistake. I have a high regard for her. If she isn't happy. I listen. So do the same."

I wondered if Bob had handled her. It was obvious he was rather protective.

Note to self. Keep Eve happy. Or better still, perhaps avoid.

Avoiding wasn't an option. Eve didn't leave me alone after that. First, it was shouts of "cute bum" as I walked through her department. I'm sure that counted as sexual harassment in the workplace. Then it was her arrival in the canteen at the exact time I had my dinner on the second day.

It was a bit strange having her firmly plant herself at my table in the canteen each day. By the second week, I was used to it. She still frightened me a little, but I'd found she had a genuine warmth about her as well.

"They'll be talking about us if we keep lunching together." She smirked.

I didn't think anyone would do that.

"I think we're safe. Twenty-odd years between us."

Eve made an exaggerated play of considering my words.

"Mmm. A woman hits her peak in her forties. A man at nineteen. They might think we have a Mrs Robjnson thing going on."

I had no idea what that was referring to but I could guess its meaning.

"It's all downhill from here for you." She added with a smirk.

The sexual innuendos never stopped. I didn't mind too much. It was nice to have some company and her exuberant talk saved me from being the one to make idle chitchat with people from the office I hardly knew. They all had their own friends and I too often felt like the interloper.

"That's nonsense. Anyway, it's twenties for men."

"Ooh. I have time yet. You can cook for a while longer. I'm not menopausal just yet."

"Eat your dinner and stop looking at my arse when I'm in Packing."

I was beginning to get the measure of her and gave as well as she did.

"But it's so cute.

Do you like mine?"

"Eve. You're old enough to be my mother. I don't look."

"Liar. And I bet you look at my tits as well. Nipples the size of fifty pence pieces."

"Oh god. I don't want to know that."

The feeling she was playing with me was a little awkward, but I think I would have missed it if she stopped. No matter what we talked about, she always seemed to manage to work sex into the conversation. It was a skill I wished I had. Even as I felt embarrassed by it, I was trying to learn from her. But that was as far as it went.

My vision of the ideal woman was a petite teenage blonde with small tits. All cute and innocent. Not someone my mother's age with a mass of red hair that resembled a lion's mane and enormous tits that could suffocate a man.

"Oh, you'd love them. Imagine burying your face in here."

I couldn't help but look into that massive cleavage of wobbling flesh as she shook her upper torso. Smooth, soft skin with a hint of freckles, much younger than I envisioned on a woman of her age. I wondered if she undid those top buttons in her blouse for my benefit. I thought so, and inside my pants, my monster was wide awake. It was less discerning than my head and suddenly uncomfortable in its cage. But it was drawing blood away from my burning face

"Don't you think you're a bit old to be flashing your bits at me?"

She looked offended.

"Are you saying I'm old?"

"No. Sorry. Just older."

Oh, Jesus. Don't be offended. Please.

"I've still got it you know. These puppies aren't hanging on my knees yet."

Christ, I wish she'd stop trying to draw my attention to her tits. It was difficult not to stare.

"You look just fine. Sorry."

"For my age?"

"That's not what I meant."

Jesus Christ. How was I going to extricate myself from this?

"I'm sure your husband is happy."

"Husband? I'm divorced. Got rid of that lump of lard years ago. Just me and my daughter now. She's about the same age as you."

"Does she work here?"

I was interested that she had a daughter.

"No. She's at college studying accounts. That's why I do so much overtime. I'm still paying to keep her. That, and I do actually like my job."

"You always look busy."

"I am. Someone in Planning, mentioning no names, keeps scheduling more work. But I like that. I set myself little challenges like so many pallets an hour. Or I tweak the box-making machine to run a little faster. It's not just the pallet strapper I work on. I look after that as well you know. The Setters showed me how to maintain it so now I just get in with it if anything goes wrong."

"So you're a regular little mechanic as well."

"I like a challenge."

I saw that look again. As if I was her latest one. I hid behind my coffee mug. She was fun in a strange sort of way. But desperate as I was, I didn't want a woman who could be my mum hitting on me. She did have a nice arse though. Did her daughter have the same attributes?

Eve snatched up my phone from the table and struck a selfie pose.

"There. One for later so you can think about me in your private time."

I went red again and put the phone safely back in my pocket.

Bob had noticed Eve's interest in me. He found my discomfort equally entertaining and it wasn't many weeks before he started teasing me.

"Don't fancy a bit of the older woman then?"

"No."

"She'll make a man of you. And you're single. Use it or lose it as they say."

I coloured up.

"It's used just fine. Just not on MILFs."

"We're not seeing any evidence. Perhaps Eve is offering to help you out. A lot to be said for the older woman. It's like putting Spring and Autumn together to make a summer."

Not one of my fantasies.

"The passion of new beginnings and the maturity of experience. It's a wonderful combination." He went on.

"I don't need help."

Bob was laughing at me. A feeling I knew far too well when it came to my abysmal track record with girls.

"She's more your age bracket. Why don't you go and satisfy her between her hot flushes."

"Those aren't hot flushes. It's just hotness personified. If only I wasn't married. But sorry. I'm strictly a one-woman man.

And that's another lesson for the future. Don't mess around when you find the perfect girl. Do it all now while you're young and single, or you'll regret it later in life."

"Thanks, Bob. I thought you were here to prepare me for my future career. Not give marriage guidance."

He sat back and held his hands wide.

"I'm a mentor in all things."

Of course, the attention of any female was arousing to me when I was trying to sleep with a hard cock nagging at me. Even the attention of an older woman could get the blood flowing. And to be honest, Eve's was the only attention I was getting.

I rolled into my back and huffed knowing I wouldn't sleep until I'd dealt with the problem.

I let thoughts of Eve come to me freely. It was only fantasy. Not an intent. I could give it thought even though I'd no wish to act upon it.

In my mind, I saw her cleavage. That deep valley between two soft pillows. I imagined her opening her top and taking her bra away. Christ that thing must be like scaffolding to hold those things back. What did big tits look like naked? I'd google later.

I closed my eyes as thoughts of large areola topped with nice, even nipples came to me. Far different to the usual image I held. Sadly, it was still only an image fuelled by nothing more than porn and imagination.

My hand was already on my cock, stroking it back and forth with a deliberate action. My crown was wet, squelching under the delicate foreskin. It felt nice.

"Hmm."

I stopped just long enough to find a tissue hidden in the bottom drawer of my bedside cabinet. I'd need it in a minute. I found my phone as well and opened the pic of Eve she had planted there knowing I'd use it for just this moment. Then I got back to it, this time lying on my side.

I pumped harder with Eve's face and that mane becoming my focus. She did look hot in an older sort of way. Kinda like a movie star who gets the blood rushing even though you know, she's way out of your league. A suspension of reality.

I pictured her with her eyes closed and her mouth open. A woman in ecstasy. I saw her as an alluring figure. A motherly lover who was grateful for me to fuck her. My hand moved faster, pumping my cock and a wetness leaked onto my palm. It made my wanking slicker. More pussy-like. At least that's how I thought of it in my ignorance.

What would it be like to do her from behind? Would her arse be as tight as it looked in her jeans?

"Uhh."

I felt a change in me. One I knew well. A sudden rise in pressure deep in my groin. It was the moment that not cuming was no longer an option.

"Uh."

Faster. Faster. A fervent pumping of my meat until it popped.

"Huh."

A sudden release of pressure and the easing delight of my jizz escaping into the carefully positioned tissue followed. It was a sensation I loved. It was like being freed of a torment. An instant relief that would let me sleep.

What I hated after, was the mess. Wiping myself down only for more leakage to soak my crown and leave white patches on the sheets for my mum to find when he changed the beds. No matter how careful I was, there was always a stain. That's why I preferred taking care of business in the shower. But sometimes, needs must.