Sebastian

Sebastian was being lazy, he should have been up hours ago. He'd been playing this stupid game for two hours and he was only getting worse, so now he was getting bored. It was a public holiday and he had the day off: in fact it was a long weekend so he had four days off and he needed to do far more with it than lie in bed playing this stupid game. He contemplated having a wank but he'd already done that so, although he could easily turn one out, it would almost be as boring as playing the game. Trouble was, he hadn't planned anything for the weekend so would have to make it up as he went along. He decided to go to the gym, at least that would get him out of the house and moving.

Then he thought back to the previous afternoon and Jean, and decided to throw one out anyway, just because he could.

He was quite fond of Jean. She was one of his mother's oldest friends: in both senses of the word, being a good fifteen years older than her and having known her from almost the first days of the family moving to England. Sebastian had known her from his youngest years and there was even a period in his childhood when he'd called her Auntie Jean, that had slipped to Aunt Jean as he'd gotten older before it had fallen back to plain old Jean as he'd hit his late teens.

Not that Jean was plain, she might be older but definitely not plain, pleasantly attractive perhaps but definitely not plain.

To Sebastian's memory she'd always looked the same: small in stature, very slim with smooth, always smiling features, hardly any makeup and always the same coiffure of pale grey cut into a bob, it never ever varied. Neither could he remember her ever wearing any other colours than blacks, greys or whites, never.

And yet, despite this seeming total lack of variation or imagination, she always looked elegant.

His mother loved her dearly but was in constant exasperation and frustration with her. The biggest problem with Jean, as far as his mother was concerned, was that she'd always deferred to her husband's choices and had always done what he'd said and wanted. He'd looked after everything to do with the house and their lives: had total control over it. Consequently she had no idea how anything worked or where anything was, in fact didn't seem to know anything beyond what her husband had told her: which seemed to be nothing. Which meant that when he'd sadly died two years ago, she did not have a clue. About anything.

And it had taken his mother something like six months to sort everything out: from banks to pensions to bills to passwords to how the house alarm worked. Everything.

Jean had been at such a loss with what to do with herself that she'd stayed with them for most of those six months.

The latest 'situation' with Jean had started a month ago.

When Jean had approached his mother to, as ever, ask her advice.

She was obviously embarrassed by what she wanted to say but had finally got to her question. "What do you do for sex Evangeline?"

Evangeline was very much taken aback: Jean was very prim and it was almost unknown for her to be so direct. It had taken quite a bit of coaxing to get her to the point, but for her to say that word was rare.

"Sex? I errr, I......I have......I have friends."

"Friends?"

"Yes, friends......and acquaintances."

"Friends and acquaintances." She'd contemplated. "Oh, not a boyfriend then?" Jean had seemed disappointed.

For some reason she was. Friends and acquaintances seemed a bit......seedy. Not as nice as having a boyfriend.

Evangeline was a bit put out. Now she felt as though she had to explain herself. But she also felt that she shouldn't have to. But then Jean was probably the most naive person she knew and Evangeline was astonished that she'd asked the question: it must have taken her months to work up to asking it.

It had. The butterflies in her stomach were still flying around with steel plated wings and she didn't really know what to ask next: she'd fully expected her friend to say that she had a boyfriend, although she'd never seen evidence of one. But to admit to having 'friends and acquaintances' that she went to for sex was something she'd never imagined.

"No, not a boyfriend," Evangeline continued, "far too complicated."

Friends and acquaintances sounded complicated to Jean. "Oh......errr." She really was lost for words.

"Why do you ask Jean?"

"I errrr. I was hoping you'd be able to give me some advice."

Evangeline was a little nonplussed: she hadn't asked how she could meet a boyfriend, she'd been quite specific with the word sex. "You were hoping I'd give you advice on where to get sex?" Her surprise was turning to shock.

Jean was blushing furiously. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Yes, sorry, I......sorry."

Now Evangeline was feeling embarrassed, embarrassed for her friend. It would have taken a lot of courage on Jean's part to ask the question and she wasn't being helpful at all. "I'm sorry Jean, I'm not being much help am I." But she wasn't really sure that she could be much help. She'd meant it when she'd said that a boyfriend would be too complicated. Besides which, her tastes in sex were......varied, and occasionally prolific, so to have just one 'friend' wouldn't meet her needs: so she had 'friends and acquaintances'. But there was no way she was going to let any one of them loose on Jean, her sensitivities would never be able to stand the strain. Plus it would be letting her in on some of Evangeline's very personal secrets.

There was however, someone she could suggest. But she wasn't sure how those 'sensitivities' would take it, or how it would affect their own relationship. Still, she really did want to help her friend and it obviously meant a lot to her.

"Ok. There is someone you could ask, but you will have to do the asking. Now I don't want you to take this the wrong way, I'm suggesting him as your dearest friend because......well because I think it would work for you, and you wouldn't have to think about a relationship other than the one you already have with him." She saw Jean frown at that one and realised that she had probably said too much, but she was going to have to say his name anyway, so a big hint couldn't hurt.

She took a deep breath and composed herself. "Sebastian."

Jean blinked. Now she was the one in shock. "Sebastian?"

Evangeline nodded. "Sebastian. Now I don't want you to get the wrong idea." How could she not. "But it would work. He's way old enough and he's definitely exploring his sexuality." She wasn't sure Jean would understand that one, she doubted if she'd ever explored her's. "I'm sure he would be open to the idea." She hoped Jean wouldn't ask her to explain that one. "And he loves you so would want to help you." She was beginning to babble.

Jean was feeling really confused. Sebastian! She could never ask him. Think of the embarrassment. For both of them. She smiled weakly at Evangeline, turned, and went home.

Shit! Shit! Shit! Evangeline felt sick. Stupid move. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. But she'd done it, and she was never one to cry, it was done, she needed to either correct it or move it along. She still thought that, in some ways, it would work, so she decided to move it along. Now she needed to talk to Sebastian. Shit!

He was in his cottage: which had originally been the stables but had been converted into a double storied cottage a century or more ago. He'd moved over there permanently a few months ago after a discussion about him staying on at the house and not finding a place of his own. The house was way too big for her and her mother; the last of the girls had left nearly a year ago now, but they both loved the place, it was great for entertaining and her mother was really settled in her annex. Evangeline did feel quite lonely at times and maybe in a few years they would find somewhere smaller but for now they'd stay here. The discussion with Sebastian had been about him staying as well and taking a more active role in the running of the place. This discussion would be very different.

"You've what?! Shit mother!" He wasn't taking this well. He'd been at his desk when she'd walked in, now he was pacing the room. He stopped and peered at her sitting in his favourite wingback chair. "Really? You're not joking are you?"

"No Sebastian, I'm not joking, why would I joke about this. She came to me and asked my advice......"

"So you offered your son for sex!"

"......and I shouldn't have offered my son for sex." It wasn't what she'd been going to say, but she was trying to mollify him, get him on her side. "It's not as though you're averse to sex, after all you're......" She'd been about to say that he was sleeping with his grandmother, had had sex with his sister and had had a little......something, with her. Trouble was that she wasn't supposed to know about the first two. "......you've......with me." She finished rather lamely. "Oh come on Sebastian. Stop being so high and mighty, let's be honest, you'll fuck anything." She was a little annoyed with him now, and with herself. "Not that Jean is anything." She finished.

She took a deep breath while he sat down.

He started laughing. Fucking hell! His mother had told her best friend to approach him for sex! Un-fucking-real.

Evangeline chuckled. "See, not so bad."

He looked at her. "No mother, not so bad. So what do you want me to do?"

"Nothing, except say yes. And obviously do what she asks. Oh and please don't tell her that I've told you, let's not make it too much of a setup. Besides, she might never ask you. You know what she's like, probably going through a thousand deaths of indecision right now. And thank you Sebastian."

Jean was definitely going through those thousand deaths, but it wasn't about indecision, it was embarrassment. She had never been so embarrassed in all her life.

It had been a difficult time since that bastard Paul had died.

She admonished herself. He hadn't been a bastard at all, far from it: he had always looked after her, and she had loved him for it. But he wasn't supposed to die: that was why he was a bastard; for dying and leaving her on her own, for not preparing her for it.

He had been diagnosed with the cancer and was dead within a month. She'd been numb with shock from that day in the doctors until......well, in some ways until now; she was still struggling with some things, especially living on her own: she was trying to move on, but it was so hard.

She almost started crying again, took a sob then told herself to stop, to pull herself together.

And thought about her current predicament. Her embarrassment at what she'd just asked Evangeline. She nearly sobbed again. Oh god, how could she have done that.

She had started to have thoughts about sex around a year ago. Sex with Paul had never been earth shattering: never imaginative or regular, but it had happened. Now nothing happened.

She blushed. Well, it had happened. Once. With Steven from her yoga class.

It had been a disaster from start to a very quick finish. A disaster of fumbling, heavy handed groping, not very good kissing, heavy breathing, zero foreplay, disappointingly small penis, too quick orgasm, for him not for her, and too many apologies.

Followed by his. "It'll be better next time."

No it won't, there won't be a next time.

There hadn't been a next time.

With anyone.

But she hadn't stopped thinking about it. Sex. A lot. Even not very imaginative, not very often sex would be something.

The trouble for Jean was that she was the least forward of women, so it'll have to come to her. They'll have to come to her.

They didn't.

Except for Steven. And that had not gone well.

So the thoughts about sex were never going to progress beyond thoughts.

Unless.

Unless she could pluck up the huge amount of courage she'd need to approach Sebastian.

She sighed. He was her only hope.

But it had still taken Jean nearly a month and several visits, where she'd completely ignored the subject, to pop the question, and even then she didn't really pop it.

Evangeline could see her squirming. She'd almost laughed but had managed to stop herself.

Jean had clearly come along with the intention of asking about Sebastian. But all she'd done so far was make the last hour tortuous: hinting and alluding, completely skirting the subject.

So, when Evangeline had finally had enough, she decided that a big push was needed. "Sebastian's in the cottage if you want to go over and say hello." If that didn't work nothing would, unless, that is, Sebastian assumed the role of caveman and threw Jean over his shoulder.

"Oh, really." She actually managed nonchalance. Evangeline could have applauded. "Think I will, haven't seen him in ages."

"I'm sure he'll be delighted to see you."

"Really? Ok......I'll go then." She stayed seated, as if forgetting that she'd actually have to move. "Ok then......bye then."

"Bye Jean, see you later."

"Right. Ok." And she finally did get up, gave Evangeline a kiss on the cheek, paused. Then left.

Oh god! What was she going to do? Her legs felt so heavy, her feet wouldn't move, and her heart was going like a train.

Then she was at his front door. Didn't know how she'd got there.

She banged the door knocker. Then giggled hysterically at the euphemism that had appeared in her head.

His mother had just texted. 'Jean's actually on her way, let me know how it goes.'

'Naughty Jean. Suppose you want proof? Photos?'

'Stop it. And no I do not. Just be nice.'

'As opposed to what?' His door knocker clattered. 'She's here.'

Sebastian was extremely nervous, it wasn't as though he had lots of experience, despite how his mother made it sound. Other than Mrs Cantwell, his grandmother, once with his sister and that time with his mother, there had still only been two other women. So he was no great lover, he was only just twenty one and still had much to learn. But he definitely wanted to fuck naughty Jean.

What was really making him nervous was the knowledge that he would probably have to make the first move.

He opened the door.

She looked even more nervous than he, understandable really.

She was dying inside, wondering what the heck she was doing and definitely wondering how she was going to do it.

She almost groaned. Oh dear but he was so gorgeous.

"Hello Jean, please come in. Haven't seen you in ages." God, was that the best he could do?

She shivered and forced her foot over the threshold.

Fifteen minutes later and it was becoming agonising. They were sitting opposite each other trying to have a conversation. Jean was nervous because she didn't think he knew why she was really there and she didn't have a clue, or the nerve, about how to do anything about it. Sebastian was nervous because he did know why she was there, but also didn't have a clue or the nerve to do anything about it. In fact he was so nervous he was trembling.

But he still knew that he was the one who was going to have to make that first move.

She looked a little lost buried in the big armchair and, even though she looked the same as always, he was still enjoying looking at her, even imagining pushing the hem of her print dress up her thighs and teasing her knees apart.

He took a deep breath and slid off his chair onto his hands and knees.

Oh dear, what was he doing?

Her voice was barely a croak. "What are you doing Sebastian?"

He didn't answer, just crawled closer and closer, his honey coloured eyes locked on her crossed knees.

She put both feet down on the floor and pushed herself back into her chair, realised what she'd done and hurriedly recrossed her legs.

It took mere seconds for him to reach her but to Jean it was an age. She still couldn't quite believe what he was doing, but she was really sure that she should put a stop to it: should either: say something, or get up. She did neither.

Then he put his hands on her knees and she whimpered.

They were hot to the touch and, when he slid his hands down the outside of her thighs they began to tremble in tune with his own body.

He was still incredibly nervous but, as his hands disappeared under her dress, there was no going back now.

She'd closed her eyes but still knew exactly where his hands were as they edged up her legs.

He reached her knickers and hooked his fingers into the waistband.

Oh god. He was pulling her knickers off. She pressed down into the chair, trying to stop him with her weight. Or that's what her brain told her to do. What she actually did was press down with her arms on the armrests and ease her weight, her knickers slipped out from under her bum.

She almost cried.

She just couldn't resist him: she even lifted her feet. She instantly felt naked.

But he still didn't stop. He was so brazen. She couldn't believe his nerve.

His hands were back on her knees. She wanted to look but couldn't get her eyes to open.

He kissed the top knee then nudged it off the bottom one. Pushed his face between them, his soft cheeks brushing up the insides of her thighs.

She felt like jelly. She couldn't move, if she tried to stand she knew her legs would never support her.

He began kissing the soft flesh; little pecks, one side then the other, each kiss that little bit further along her leg.

She was quivering. Nobody had ever kissed her there before. She'd read about it in novels: her throat dry at the written words, her heart thumping at the dramatic description of the woman's inevitable orgasm. Was she now, here, to be that woman?

His hands cupped the back of her hips and she slid across the soft leather towards him.

A fraction separated his face from her heat.

She could feel his breath on her and she moaned at the wait, the want.

His tongue touched her and she groaned as he explored her, she pushed her hips up, lifting herself to him, offering herself to him.

She looked down, her dress was rucked against his forehead, his black haired head high between her pale thighs that were stretched wide around his shoulders. She could feel his face, feel his tongue, feel exactly what he was doing to her.

He licked her, pressed his tongue through the wispy hair and licked up and down her thin lips, teased between them, teased into the wet folds of flesh, pressed deeper. Felt her press back into the chair, pushing her hips forward as hands on the back of his head tried to guide him.

She began to tremble. It wasn't nervous tension now. She knew what it was, she knew it was happening.

He sucked against her sex. She twisted and squirmed. And when he sucked her clitoris between his lips, flicked his tongue across it, she knew that she was going to have an orgasm.

Oh god, she was going to have an orgasm!

She was twitching against him. The instant he'd touched her clit he'd known that she was going to cum. She'd bucked against his face, her fingers clenching into his hair, her inner thighs vibrating.

Then there was a sudden bloom of heat right where his mouth was, she cried out, twisted and pressed her face into the wing of the chair, sobbed into the leather.

Sebastian kept sucking, just gently mouthing her, holding her bum as she trembled against his face.

It didn't last long, but he had the feeling that it had been good. She'd tensed against him, held his face against her with one hand, the other somewhere else. Then she shivered and relaxed, melted into the chair and let go of his head.

He was on the point of sitting back when Jean started kissing the top of his head. He tilted his face and the kisses tracked down across his eyes and nose onto his mouth.

It was a wildly inexperienced kiss but it was full of meaning. Sebastian returned it. Tried to tame it. It felt ridiculous him being the one to do so; he must be thirty or more years the younger, but still......

He held her head, just gently, tried to slow her down. It worked. She pulled back a little, took a breath then kissed him again: a little tentatively this time. He kissed her back: he liked kissing, the intimacy of it, the pleasure of it.