Charity Begins At Home 5

Life was wonderful. I was successful, we lived in a fantastic house, my wife was still exceptionally beautiful and we had two healthy, intelligent, almost fully-grown children. Then the word caved in. At the age of forty, Beverly suffered a very early menopause and it happened with devastating speed. The good side was that she did not suffer any of the usual side effects so had no need of drugs but her sex drive disappeared completely. From a constant 100% throughout the marriage, it went down to zero virtually overnight. She did not deny me sex and we continued to screw almost as often as before but it was like making love to a lump of wood.

I could not believe that her desire had gone for ever and tried everything that I knew that might create the spark to set her alight again. Nothing worked. Then I started having my own problems. After trying for ages to warm her up I found that the lack of any response from her made it hard for me to cum. Some nights I had to go on humping for a very long time before I could conjure up some mental image that would allow me to bring matters to a successful conclusion.

Three years later, I was only a year away from hitting the half-century in age, the kids had left home, (daughter married, son to university) and my wife was still frigid. At this point, Beverly decided to put our lives on a different basis. One evening shortly before bedtime, she sat me down and said solemnly, "Pete, I will never deny you sex completely but I can't go on like we are because it's getting me down. I love you and even though I feel nothing, I do like making you happy in bed but you go on so long. When you seem to be panting on top of me for what seems like a year and a day, I get so that I want to scream. It's making things worse because every night as it gets near to time to go upstairs; I get so tense dreading what is to come. I'm going to have to ration you to one night a week. Perhaps if you have had to wait for seven days you might be able to get it over with a bit quicker. This needn't be a permanent arrangement; if it works then perhaps I might increase you to twice a week."

The only answer that I could see was to start having a bit on the side but to do this I faced big difficulties. I had been living a fixed routine for so long that should I suddenly start having absences from home my wife was bound to become suspicious. The fear was that should she find out that I had been doing anything like that Beverly would close her legs on me completely and I still held on to a deep seated hope that the good old days would magically reappear.

The answer came from an old pal when I met him again for the first time in over ten years. The Terry I knew was an incorrigible womaniser and virtually lived in the night-clubs and discos of the city. I remember once asking him if he ever planned to marry and settle down. "It wouldn't be fair," he told me honestly, "- every time that a woman looks at me in a certain way, I just have to try my luck and it wouldn't matter a damn whether I was married or not."

I bumped into him in a pub when he was on a flying visit from his current home in the south to visit a sick relative. When I asked if he still spent his evenings prowling the night scene he shook his head and said that damage to his knees in a car crash had forced him to give it up. "But I still manage to get my share of the other," he assured me with a grin. Terry went on to explain that he could no longer work and was in receipt of a disability allowance but that this left him short of cash for entertainment. I gathered that he could not run at all, only walk slowly and not very far. I sympathetically told him that sounded nasty but he happily assured me that his injuries had not stopped him doing what was important. "So how do you manage to find your lady friends now?" I asked and this prompted him to tell me the following:-.

'At this party I met a girl called Rachel and I was really smitten with her. Now women always either love me or hate me with no in between - but I can always tell very quickly. Having said that, I don't always score with the first lot and there have been occasions over the years when I have made it with birds that started off in the second category. Rachel was different - she seemed completely immune to me. I saw that as a challenge and became determined to make her react in one way or the other - so I made enquiries to find out where she lived, what she did for a living and how she spent her evenings. Nobody knew anything except for one girl who thought that Rachel did voluntary work for an organisation rescuing battered wives.

So next day found me at the charity office offering my services. To start with they were dubious saying that it was a mainly female organisation but then one of the interviewers got the idea that being single at my age meant that I had to be gay. Having gained that impression it semingly made me more acceptable, I did not disabuse her, so they took me on and I found myself in the happy hunting grounds. You see it was true - all the people working there except one were female and by definition, all the clients were too. A large proportion of my fellow helpers were feminists and a great many were lesbians as well but I am happy to report that most of the ones that would be classified as 'fem's' were more than happy to swing both ways. The main thing was that there was a very free and easy attitude to sex, particularly after some traumatic incident or a successful conclusion, when everybody's adrenaline was running high.

The premises consisted of a large office, a kitchen, a storeroom and a rescue bedroom containing a bed, armchair and shower. The office was manned twenty-four hours a day with the staff being a mixture of paid helpers (badly paid) and volunteers. There were lots of people in during the day working staggered shifts between 8a.m. and 8 p.m. but a single three person team provided the cover each day on the twelve hour night shift. The theory was that, with three on the shift, each could work 8 hours on, 4 hours off - with the third person always available if needed.

I dropped in a few times to help during the day but my main commitment was to be part of the night shift twice a week. For the first few months I did all right making dates with fellow helpers for other nights but there was no sex 'on the job' so to speak. This changed when I started working regularly with the same two women. In their twenties, they were university graduates and both had steady boy friends. Although we got on well, each in turn refused to meet me away from work. This situation lasted for a couple of weeks until, during a particularly slack night, one intimated that her refusal to date did not mean she was unwilling to enjoy a quick lie down with me on the rescue bed. During my next shift I shagged the other one and from then on, without any jealousy, every shift I fucked one or the other (sometimes both when they switched over at half time).

Missing two shifts due to the flu ruined it because when I returned I found that the two members of my small harem had got it together with each other and did not want to know me. So I found myself manning the phone lines in solitary state, often with nothing to do except listen to the sound of heavy breathing emanating from the bedroom. Refused sex and with no access to other women I had no alternative but to apply for a transfer to different night shift team. My request was granted but I found that I had jumped out of the frying pan into the fire being grouped with a husband and wife team who's third member had left (I later found out that it had been Rachel.)

Beth and Frank were actually a lovely couple. He was about my age, his wife ten years younger, but unlike me he projected a trustworthy relaxed father figure with white sideburns and a head tending towards baldness. I liked Beth a lot, in fact I fancied her like crazy but when I describe her you may wonder why. She was about a stone overweight but the extra poundage was all in the right places and as the song goes - I always did like fat bottomed girls. I deliberately did not describe Beth as voluptuous because that word conjures up an extrovert personality to go with the extra size and the best descriptive word I can find for her is homely. Homely or not the sight of those glorious tits or the rear prospect of her bending over kept my blood constantly on the boil. Mine was a hopeless passion though because Beth and Frank were still deeply in love after fifteen years of marriage and two children. They never passed each other during constant movement round the office without a touch being exchanged and once, blundering into the kitchen in search of my coffee, I disturbed them in a passionate embrace.

Unlike me they were paid by the charity and did a trio of day shifts as well as the nights when I joined them. They always worked together but on the day shift one started late to get their kids off to school and the other left early to meet them when they returned home. For the two nights when they were absent from home, his mother visited to sleep over and fulfil the role of babysitter.

One night about ten o'clock we got a call from a distressed woman who was terrified of her husband. She was not badly injured at that point but her husband was threatening to kill her and their three children. When asked she said she had not called the police because she had done that on previous occasions and only managed to make matters worse. So we mounted a rescue operation. Frank went to the woman's street and drove slowly backward and forward in front of the house while Beth and I rang the husband. We did a double act pretending to be a policeman and a social worker. Saying that a neighbour had reported a disturbance, we got him engrossed in explaining why there was no need for us to visit and this gave his wife chance to get herself and the kids out of the house, to be whisked back to our office by Frank.

Unfortunately the enraged husband somehow knew exactly where she had gone and half an hour later he was hammering on our door. He was a giant of a man, possibly over 6' 4" and built like a brick shit house. He was carrying what looked like a Ghurka knife - I know that it looked pretty big and he was shouting that if we did not send his wife out he was coming in to do away with the lot of us. Having had trouble with an angry spouse before, at first we took this as bluff but when he climbed onto the flat roof to start peering through the sky-lights we panicked. At this point. we tried to ring the police only to find that the man outside had discovered the junction box for our phone lines and trashed it. Then followed a long traumatic period with one of us consoling the wife, another trying to calm three terrified children and the third on constant watch for sign that our defences had been penetrated.

At midnight a police patrol car regularly parked for a few minutes near the office. When this happened, the crazy man made himself scarce giving me the chance to slip out the office door to raise the alarm. The two constables, chased down the husband and took him away to be charged with criminal damage but having found no weapon, they warned us that he would probably be released almost immediately. This made it a matter of urgency to get the small family to a refuge but the wife said it could not be local as her husband knew them all, (it seemed that she had been in more than one on previous occasions). We found that one phone line was still working and used this to ring round until after an hour of trying, we got them accepted at a place of safety in Newcastle. Frank volunteered to run them there - it would be a four-hour round trip, plus whatever time it took to get the family settled in.

Have you ever suffered a period of tension, worry and even fear then it suddenly stops or brought something to a successful conclusion but had no-one there to offer congratulations. I can tell you that it leaves you with a massive feeling of anti climax - emotionally you are left in limbo but with the adrenaline still pouring round your body. We could have done to be rushed of our feet with the phones ringing constantly but there was not a peep out of any one. I managed to sit still but not Beth. She jumped up, walked round, sat down and then was immediately on the move again, she lit a cigarette, stubbed it out and only a moment later was lighting another one. Then after an hour if this she suddenly said, "If I don't get fucked this very minute, I think I'm going to go crazy."

The words 'gift horse' and ' mouth' jumped to mind and, you've got to believe it, I got my cock into her faster than even Speedy Gonzales would have done. She was fantastic, burning with passion and virtually insatiable - I've never known a woman who could cum so often. I screwed her three times altogether but it was really just one long fuck because we never really stopped - in all my life I can't remember the old lingam getting back up to scratch so quickly. Frank had not returned from his trip when the shift ended and I have to admit that this was somewhat of a relief.

The next shift that the three of were together Beth's face was drawn and tense. The moment that her husband left us to make coffee, she grabbed my arm and whispered urgently, "I must have been mad the other night Terry, I don't know what came over me. It was completely wrong and it must never happen again. Please promise that you will never let Frank guess what happened between us."

I dutifully gave my word. However, during the next month Beth and I were so awkward around each other that I wondered how it was possible that Frank did not seem to suspect anything. Then their kid's grandma was treated to a six-month visit to Australia by Frank's brother leaving them without a baby-sitter. As a short term expedient to cover this, Beth and Frank took on an extra day shift each and then in turn partnered me for a night stint. I could not get the memory of that crazy night out of my head and although I ached for Beth, whenever we were alone together I behaved like the perfect gentleman (partly out of respect for Frank). It was hard - and you can take that any way you like.

The first night that Beth and I worked as a two person team things were reasonable hectic but the second was very slack. When we had been sitting waiting for something to happen, Beth suddenly said, "I've been thinking how alike virginity and fidelity are. When you lose your cherry it's impossible to be a virgin again and if you cheat on your husband even once after that you can never not be an unfaithful wife."

One look into Beth's big blue eyes told me the true message contained in her words. We fucked like rabbits for the rest of the shift and every time that we were together after that. Drawing implication from things she said, I got the impression that Frank had not got too much downstairs and I think that first frantic time with me had given her a yen for my fat seven inches plus. The first time that I worked alone with Frank after that I felt very awkward, being sure that he would be able to guess what had happened between me and his wife just by looking at my guilty face. Since then, mentally dissociating him from Beth allows me to act quite naturally and as for guilt - if he is so blind that he can't see what is going on under his nose then he deserves all that he gets.

Even in a bed my knee problem made it difficult to do the business in anything like the missionary position and on a hard floor it was completely impossible. So, as both of us could not leave the office at the same time about the only option we had was to do it standing up. One way was for her to sit on the edge of a table facing me but our favourite method by far was with her bending over the table. You can't imagine the sheer joy of pushing my cock between those ripe twin moons into the warm welcoming wetness beyond.

One advantage of doing it that way was it left Beth's hands free to answer the telephone. If there was something heavy going down or a caller came on another line I had to stop but otherwise I just carried on, but with a lower key scale of activity. Now Frank couldn't go through a whole night without speaking to his wife at least once and in consequence he rang 'at the wrong time' not infrequently. I have to say that it gave me an extra kick listening to Beth chatting to him quite normally about family matters and saying, "I love you too," while I continued to slide it into her slow and easy.

We've been at it at least once a week for almost six months now, (some weeks she somehow persuades Frank to let her do both night shifts). It was very nice while it lasted but the Beth's mother-in-law came back from Australia last week. I don't know how I am going to manage cooped up with Frank and Beth together for twelve hours at a stretch. Even worse, I don't know how I can survive without the solace of her soft body but I'm sure that Beth must feel the same and am hoping she will be able to think of something.'

That was Terry's story and I got quite a chuckle at the time thinking about foolish faithful Frank on the telephone unknowingly hearing the sounds of his wife's furrow being ploughed. On a more serious level the tale was an inspiration to me because it provided the answer to my problem - I would volunteer for evening charity work. It would be nice if unlikely that, like Terry, I should find myself working with a load of nubile nymphomaniacs but at the very least I would have a valid reason to be absent from home. The failsafe position was that, having established a pattern of going out in the evening, I could quietly drop the charity and use the freedom gained for my own purposes.

At the fist opportunity I said casually to Beverly, "I'm thinking of taking up voluntary charity work."

"Good idea, you might enjoy it," she said without taking her eyes from the TV set.

My announcement had not been so unusual. While the kids were at school, I had done more than my stint with the PTA, I always gave generously to charity and I had over the years often manned a fete stall in support of a good cause. So my history as a good citizen allowed me to take the first step of my nefarious plan without a ripple of suspicion being aroused. Eager to set the ball rolling, during my next lunch hour from work, I called at the local abused women centre to offer my services. They were polite but I very quickly left with the strong impression that to them all males were the enemy. After that refusal I did not know where else to try so I pored through the evening and free papers looking for charity adverts and after a frustrating fortnight I saw it 'Be a Befriender!"

Clive, the young man who interviewed me said they were looking for people willing to be a friend to someone with learning difficulties. It seemed that 'learning difficulty' was the new term to describe those once classed as mentally retarded. He explained that volunteers were expected to spend an hour or two, once a week or once a fortnight, acting as a friend to whoever was allocated as their 'partner'. The duties of a friend were helping with the writing of letters, filing in forms and generally solving any problems bothering the partner. "The people we help have a very restricted life," Clive told me. "Their only contact with the 'normal' population is either with those who laugh and stare or those who are in authority over them. Your main function is to be there for a simple chat on a regular basis and just by doing that you will be giving a taste of the kind of life that everyone else takes for granted."

Despite my ulterior motive, Clive managed to infuse me with a feeling of 'goodness' simply for having enquired so I put my name down for the course. It was an eight-day course split over four successive weekends. I turned up on the first day eager to meet the young attractive sexually adventurous women that I confidently expected amongst the other volunteers. I was disappointed. Nine of the eleven other members were female but they were either fat and ugly, matronly or elderly - there was only one who could be described as young and she was heavily pregnant.