Colleague

When Jo got home from work that day in the seventies the summer sun was setting on the harbour of the small West Country coastal town we called home. The last of the trucks taking fish to distant markets had gone and the seafront was quiet. Our small two-bedroom end-of-terrace house was at the wrong end of the town but we could afford it, and it was by the sea. Albeit also by a tangle of nets, wires, rusty bins and sundry other detritus of a small though still viable fishing fleet. Fisherfolk are among the busiest but untidiest on the planet. We didn't mind. We were young. We'd not been married long, had our feet on the bottom rung of the housing ladder and jobs we enjoyed. Later on, when kids came along, jobs became careers and we'd moved to the London catchment area, we would look back on this time as our taste of paradise.

"I've got cheesy baked potatoes ready with a salad. Fancy a glass of wine?"

"Oh yes, please", she said.

I trotted over to the red winebox and drew a decent sized portion. I handed it to her. "Long day?"

"We were trying to finish the set-up of the exhibition for the Council on the tin mine trail idea. The big hoardings with the old mine-heads silhouetted against perfect West Country blue skies were late arriving. The Pinocchio effect. Though to be fair today's weather has been great."

She slumped on the settee. A lovely sight in her smart work skirt suit and white shirt. She put the glass on the coffee table, took off her jacket, undid a couple of buttons on the shirt and hitched her legs up underneath her on the settee.

"What about you?"

"Nothing special. I was home quite early. I watched the last boats unload then went for a quick beer at The Shiny Pilchard before walking back home."

We were lucky we were both able to walk to work though we did own a small car. I was with the local office of a national engineering firm and Jo worked for a small but growing company which specialised in tourism promotion and event management. We'd met through work when she was lead person on a do my firm was putting on, hosting our national sales conference at the main hotel in the town. A treat for the city types. Off season, of course.

"I do have news of a sort", said Jo. "But it will keep till later. Let's eat".

My interest quickened, as she'd intended, but I decided to play along. Jo could be a real tease. But she nearly always followed through and I'd learned quickly to let things take their own course rather than ride steeplechase after the quarry.

"Sure", I replied.

After our delicious, if not quite the healthiest of meals and a glass of wine for Jo later we were sat on the settee watching the TV news before turning in. I was gently stroking Jo's leg, slowly pushing up her skirt, and she was very slowly moving her leg against mine to let me know this was a very good idea. The news was the usual mish-mash of industrial unrest, the latest gory crime story, and international tensions. Star Wars was yet to burst on the scene and change our lives forever the way Star Trek hadn't quite managed. For us TV was really just a backdrop to our being nice to each other at the end of our day. Jo opened her legs invitingly and I began to work gently up and down the slick material of her knickers. She rocked her hips encouragingly as I wondered what had brought this on but knew better than to ask.

"It's probably time to go up", she offered.

"It would seem so", I agreed.

Snuggled up in bed Jo began stroking my tummy while I worked hard at relaxing. The hard part was anything but relaxed but she carefully avoided direct contact.

"I did mention news of sorts."

"You did."

"A colleague, Phil, from our wee head office in London is coming to visit us next week."

"Really?"

"I said we could put him up for the night. Save on hotel costs and so on. I said I'd talk to you first, of course."

"Of course. Is he some kind of heavy breather in your world then?"

"No. He's interested in some tips on how to present a theme he's been working on. We may be out of the way here, but our work is getting noticed. He may have other attributes though."

The stroking continued, gentle, regular, and for some reason the mention of other attributes got the hard part harder yet. I crumbled, as she knew I would.

"What other attributes?"

"Oh, just ladies' washroom talk. Nothing specific."

I was now truly chewing on the fly and the line had gone taut.

"And what are the ladies in the washroom saying?"

"They say he's quite big. Well, really big to be honest."

"Darling, anyone looks big compared to us", I countered.

Her hand wrapped round my distended cock. "I think the ladies may mean he has a really big one of these."

I shifted position to do a bit of fondling myself and stave off spraying the sheets.

"Indeed?"

Delving into her soaking cunt I whispered, "So you're planning to check out if the talk is for real?"

"Purely for reasons of research", she softly replied, moving against my exploring fingers as I began massaging her clit.

"And will this research include any practical aspects?"

"It might."

"Might you want to see how it felt pushing against here?" I asked, working my fingers over her dripping opening.

"That would seem a sensible suggestion", she breathed huskily.

"And what about here?" I moved my well lubricated index finger and stroked her anus.

"Oh, oh yes, maybe there too. He could be too big, but yes!"

I had returned my attention to her clit and she was obviously now very horny indeed.

"Would you want him to just push it against your cunt or would you let him slip inside?" I moved between her legs and positioned my cock against her warm folds.

"I'd have to let him slide it right in. All the way in. Right inside my hungry wet cunt!" she shouted as I did just that. I lifted up so she could play with herself the way she liked and she bucked against me madly while fanning her clit.

"For research...Oh yes, yes. A great big fat research, Yes!!" she screamed. And I felt my cock further stiffen as hot squirts filled her and flooded round my shaft.

"Happy Friday", I gasped. "Good thing we've got the weekend ahead."

It turned out that the business trip was to be a quick in and out affair. Phil was getting an early train from London and being picked up by Jo at the station around 10.00am next Friday. They would have the rest of the day with her team and then we would provide dinner, bed and breakfast and Phil would be off back to London on the mid-day train on Saturday. The only preparation I did was check that we had baby oil and Vaseline, just in case. We hadn't discovered KY Jelly and I'm not even sure it was available back then. I didn't mention this precautionary stocktake to Jo but we did talk about the dinner menu. We shared the cooking and shopping as both of us enjoyed preparing good food. Fine wine was another matter. It was pricey and the wine box was so convenient. For eats we settled on home-made mushroom soup followed by cottage pie and veggies. Tasty but not flash. I made a note to put a few cans of Long Life in the fridge.

And then we got on with the next week of our lives. Like war, but with much less gore, grief and stress, normal life mainly consists of long periods of routine punctuated by short periods of excitement of one sort or another. Unlike our parents neither of us had to take part in a war, for which we're both very grateful, but peacetime's punctuations can sometimes be a lot of fun. Admittedly not always.

Jo and I had discovered, somewhat to our surprise, that we were both good at knuckling down and working through the daily grind while able to spot and eagerly sample a passing oasis of fun when one appeared. We were neither party animals nor regular pub goers, nor were we locked into the dinner party round that some of our friends seemed to enjoy. We saved rather than took expensive holidays. But if fun arrived unannounced, count us in.

So, the next Friday came round with all the normality of every other end to the working week. Jo had taken the car as she was to pick Phil up at the station, so shopping after work had fallen to her. I'd prepped as much as I could on the agreed and simple catering front and left it in the fridge. I tended to get home earlier than Jo so I'd promised to do some final tidying and have some nibbles ready for her and Phil when they got in. I knew that hosting visitors at work, particularly those who came with a clear to do list, was taxing for all concerned. So, helping everyone relax afterwards was an essential part of making the whole thing a success. As it was, I needn't have worried about the success thing.

At just after six a couple of animatedly chatty people came through the front door. Jo just had her briefcase. The fellow, perhaps a little younger and certainly a little taller than us had a blue overnight bag as well as a briefcase. He put down his bags as I held out my hand to him.

"I'm Guy. You must be Phil unless Jo's spent the day with the wrong man."

"Right on the first count", he replied taking my hand firmly.

"Good you could join us. I'll take your bag up. Just follow me and I'll show you to your room and the bathroom and so on".

I trundled upstairs and put his bag on the bed in the spare room.

"We passed the bathroom and toilet at the head of the stairs. There's another loo and washbasin downstairs in a sort of cubby under the stairs just off the kitchen. Unusual, I know. But the place has been substantially changed since its early life as a fisher-family cottage. The downstairs is open plan now apart from the tiny entrance porch you came through. The kitchen, bathroom and toilets up and down are all at the back which keeps the plumbing simple. Make yourself at home, then come down when you've freshened up and I'll sort you a drink."

Back downstairs Jo had made a beeline for the winebox.

"I'll look after Phil if you want to go and freshen up yourself, darling", I offered.

"Thanks. I might take the opportunity to change into something more appealing too", she replied. She looked very appealing to me already in one of the shortish pleated skirts she liked and a white work shirt. A matching jacket set off the suit style outfit nicely. I wondered what she had in mind. I heard a bit of chatter and laughter from the stairs and then Phil came in clad in Levi's and a pale blue short sleeved shirt open at the neck.

"There's beer or wine. The red's winebox I'm afraid but quite quaffable. And the usual spirits and mixers. I've even got some dry vermouth and if you fancy a vodka martini, I could probably stretch to an olive to go with it!"

"What's the beer?"

"Long Life, in the can, of course."

"That'll be great. Crack the can and don't bother with a glass."

"Easy."

I grabbed a couple from the fridge and pulled the tabs, handing one to him. "Here's to a good trip, and Wales to take the crown."

"You'll not be surprised I'm supporting the fifteen men in white", he replied. "But you're a hard team to beat just now. It won't always be so."

We settled down to the usual joshing. And also, unsurprisingly, I was arguing for Gareth Edwards as the greatest player of all time; one of the very few predictions I've ever made that came anywhere close to being realised. Then I noticed his gaze shift over my shoulder and that small smile of a man observing a lovely lady entering the room and wondering what his chances might be.

I swivelled slowly and reckoned his chances looked excellent.

"Hi, darling. Wine?"

"Oh yes!"

I put down my can and went to do my duty at the winebox. Jo had sharpened her makeup and changed into a white low-cut blouse with a change of bra to the sort that enhances the cleavage, very tight white trousers and white heels. The trousers were cut to show the shape of the outer cunt lips over a tight central crease. An effect I was to learn in later life was called a "camel toe". Right now, the effect was just downright dirty. But the clincher was that underneath she had put on a black suspender belt and black stockinged feet filled her white high heels. I'd seen the trousers before but never with that choice of underwear. The outline was obvious and the darker colour just detectable under the very tightly stretched and so very slightly transparent white material. I had wondered how she was going to signal her availability, if she was going to at all. This was a masterstroke. She seemed to have forgotten to put on any knickers. It was a good thing I was at the winebox as I fought to keep control of my engorging cock. I returned with her glass and quickly excused myself to see to things at the kitchen end of the long through room.

On the way I visited the record deck and tape machines and switched from Mozart piano to a collection featuring the likes of Isaac Hayes. Slow, soft and soulful, it was a tape we dubbed the "knicker dropper". Albeit there seemed to be no knickers to drop. I dished up the soup and let people know things were ready, and Jo and Phil came over from the lounge area by the front window to the table set at the side of the middle ground. The big single open plan space was divided up by large bookcases set between the two pillars which were all that remained of the original corridor wall. On the other side from the dining area was a small office space with a filing cabinet, desk, chair and Anglepoise lamp. No computer, just a typewriter. We sat down to eat and I took the role of waiter while Jo and Phil continued chatting away, mostly shop, but that's what colleagues do. After a decent attempt had been made to demolish the cottage pie and offers of ice-cream or cheesecake had been declined, we returned to the comfort of the lounge with our drinks. I dimmed the lighting.

"We need to talk about payment for your hospitality", said Phil.

"No, we don't" returned Jo. "This is about saving expenses for the firm while we all have a good time. That way we can afford business trips when we need them without hitting the wafer-thin margins we operate on."

I sat back to watch this play out. This was a difficult one for Phil. Technically, he would be taking on someone who was both his senior and who had made a major contribution to getting the West Country office off the ground. Again, I needn't have worried. Phil swirled the Talisker I'd persuaded him to try, as he looked like a man collecting his thoughts. But he wasn't.

"Don't take this the wrong way folks, but there may be a way of my making things right without infringing the ground rules." He paused. "Do you lovely people by any chance enjoy the occasional blue movie?"

"Yes, we do", replied Jo. "But it is very occasional. I'm afraid we have only a couple of really tame films here, though we do have a screen and a small Super 8 projector."

"That's not a worry. When I was at uni I supplemented my income running a small and very discreet students' club. I imported films from Scandinavia. I declared the income to the tax people - never cross the Inland Revenue - and I was luckily able to avoid the attentions of the busybodies who don't like people having fun. That's all in the past now but I still have a few films. I brought a couple with me which I'd like to leave with you as my thank you. It's what I do these days, give the stuff away to friends. In the long run I see erotica becoming much more widely available than it is now so I don't need to keep an attic full!"

"That's a very kind thought Phil", said Jo as she pounced on the opening he had offered her. "But it might be a good idea to watch the films together before you leave them. A nostalgic moment for you perhaps?"

"Why not?", he replied, smiling broadly. "I was hoping we could reach an amicable arrangement along those lines."

"This sounds like a job for the audio-visual specialists from event management. I'll go and tidy up in the kitchen while you both set things up. You can move the office desk to stand the projector on. You may have to set it on the edge as the reel capacity is quite small so with larger spools the bottom reel may come below the base of the projector."

Jo grinned. "Typical. Delegate the job to us experts then start providing instructions!"

I trotted off, thoroughly chastened, to do my menial duties. I thought I'd leave them a good while to allow for developments, which was easy enough as I had a fair bit to do. Once I'd got things shipshape, I made my way back past the bookcase dividers, noticing the desk had gone, and stopped at the last divider. I put a hand against the case. "By the time I get to Phoenix" was burbling away in the background. Jo and Phil had everything set up and were leant over side by side with Jo nearer to me fiddling with the film feed in the projector. Phil's left hand rested on Jo's beautiful white clad bottom. He was tracing a line which would take his fingers from roughly her clitoris to her anus. Or rather his fingers were tracing the line; Jo was rocking very gently back and fore so that was the result. A tableau of raw eroticism. And a multitasking test for which she was earning top marks. She saw me out of the corner of her eye and I smiled. They carried on. I carried on watching. My cock carried on trying to burst out of my trousers.

Suddenly Jo steadied herself with a hand on the desk and looked round. "Hi, darling. I think we've got it sorted. It's an older black and white film reissued on super 8, and the sprocket slots on the first frames are worn. Phil says the other one is a colour version which hasn't been screened much, if at all."

"Well done, both of you", I replied. I didn't try to hide the bulge in my attire and noticed Phil had the same problem, though on a larger scale, when they both stood up from their joint efforts. "Is this show time, then?"

"Looks that way", said Phil.

I made my way to the armchair and left the settee to them. "Great. You get things going and then I'll kill the lights."

The machine whirred into life and the flickering intro frames flashed onto the screen. I nipped up and lost the lights and sat back down. We were illuminated by the light from the screen, and a very faint glow from the other end of the room where I'd left a kitchen shelf lamp on.

"Would you mind if gentlemen were permitted to loosen their clothing darling? Things can get pretty tight watching this sort of thing otherwise", I asked.

"If you mean 'can you boys get your cocks out?' the answer is yes, please! Soon as you like. Now, if you prefer."

I unzipped and let my straining stiffy get some fresh air. Phil did likewise, revealing a rock-hard truncheon of very impressive size indeed. Jo licked her lips, eyes locked on the beast. The music continued to burble in the background and the film flickered away. Phil put his hand between Jo's legs and began his gentle stroking again, this time in the other direction. Jo thrust her hips in unison and Phil leant over and whispered something to her. She giggled and looked over to me. "He says I should treat it as a lollipop."

"Excellent advice, my dear", I replied.

And in one of those deft moves only women seem able to manage Jo reached for the side zip of her trousers, unzipped them, pushed them down over her gorgeous buttocks and swivelled up onto the settee at the same time so she was kneeling side on to Phil. She took the head of his cock in her mouth while leaving her almost naked bum within easy reach. I divided my attention between them both and the screen, where a couple of fully dressed people were kissing on a settee not dissimilar to ours. I wondered whether they'd catch up with Jo and Phil anytime soon.

On screen the woman lay back as the man got down beside her and knelt on the floor. They continued kissing as he gently raised her skirt, sliding his hand up her leg. She lifted briefly to help him as stocking tops, suspender clips and then her girdle came into view. She was wearing white full cut knickers and he started stroking her gusset. She thrust her hips in encouragement the way Jo does. I was thinking Jo would like this bit, and would be able to see better were she facing the screen when Phil softly said something to her, she nodded, got up to face the screen, then bent with her hands on the lowish coffee table in front of the desk and projector thus presenting her bare bum to Phil. He got up, stood behind her and gently pushed his cock into her crack. First, he slipped slowly into her cunt and then withdrew and slid the helmet up to her anus and pushed gently. Then he slid back to her cunt and entered her again. Then slowly repeated. Each time he pushed gently against her anus Jo pushed back. They were working together to get her naturally lubricated and slowly opened up. I probably didn't need to mention the Vaseline or the Johnsons.