I'm an old man now, born in the still austere world of post-war Hampshire... does that sound a bit dull and dreary? Maybe a little, when I was a small kid... but it meant that I was seventeen in Nineteen Sixty-seven - the year that sexual freedom burst through the Victorian staidness that had restrained my parents.
My dad told me when I was fifteen that every working class soldier who went away to fight in the war had lived a bitter life thereafter, because they had come back to a land that wasn't a place of equal opportunity. They had risked their lives so that they could return to a life ruled by an upper class mostly ruined through inbreeding, their losses in the war and by the rise of a smug middle class who desperately wanted to hang on to the status quo so that they too might enjoy a time when they could lord it over those placed below them on the social ladder.
Then over the course of the early sixties all of the post –war investment programs started paying off, modern factories, schools and housing rising from the bombed out ruins of a severely damaged victor. We all felt as if we'd won WW2... but kids of my age were the first to get a share of the prize.
I was eighteen and was going to be the first person in our family's history to attend further education - not a university, they were still the domain of rich people - no, no; I was going to a technical college to learn to be an engineer.
This story is about what happened one Christmas when my folks had to travel to Australia
It was the start of the previous summer holidays and my dad's mate had got me a job six days a week working on a bread delivery van. Doesn't sound like much, eh? Think about it... bread rounds start early and finish early; I was going to have every afternoon off and the money meant that I was going to learn to surf. I'd already bought the board and paid for two weeks of lessons; ten hours a week. It was all part of a plan, see? Part one was learn to surf, part two was, therefore, spend the rest of my life scraping the women off me. I was eighteen and probably not a virgin. Probably? Does that sound odd? Let me explain
It was at Joe's party - my mate from my A level course - during the Easter holidays... his folks were well off and we'd all set up tents in the orchard at the end of their garden. I got so drunk I don't remember anything after ten thirty, but I woke up in the morning in this bird's sleeping bag. I couldn't even remember her name and as soon as she realised that, she kicked me out. Later, in the refectory back at school she claimed that we had spent an hour screwing each other's brains out... if it happened I don't remember anything about it, and so I could be – or not be.
Anyway, it was the second day on the job... Geoff was paying me cash daily so that I could buy myself a pint of shandy and a late-cooked breakfast at a transport cafe that was on the way home from our last customers out in the sticks. So I had cash in my pocket - half a quid a day - but he was only telling my dad about half of that... five bob a day entirely to myself. The reason for the cash was that, it being the sixties in a country entirely under the control of the trade unions, there was a huge amount of corruption that involved almost every aspect of working life.
Geoff picked bread from the bakery and from round the back of the factory next door. The owners of the bakery had no idea of what was made; wastage limits were set at Edwardian levels of efficiency and that left a lot that wasn't wastage but wasn't on the production sheets. Half of our van was filled with goods that had no overhead costs and, with a little cash lubricating every stage, half of our takings were pure profit and half of our customers weren't on the records either.
We were at the second to last hamlet on the round when Geoff told me to mind the van as he'd got something to do. Twenty- five minutes later and he still wasn't back and I was so desperate for a pee that I felt sure that I was in danger of wetting myself. I seen which house he'd gone to and walked through the little gate and up the front garden path. The door was ajar and as I reached for the knocker the door moved away from my grasp and opened further. I stepped in and was about to call for Geoff when I heard a noise. It was a sort of grunt and then a moan. I was so innocent that I thought it sounded like the noise you hear in the movies as the wind rushes out of a guy when he's been stabbed in the guts.
There was a scrabbling noise coming from the stairwell - I honestly was worried about what I might find as I rather timidly took the couple of steps necessary to enable me to peep around the inside wall and up the stairs.
Geoff: tee shirt and shoes still on, trousers and pants around his ankles was the grunter as he tugged roughly at his dick which was splattering gobs and lines of spunk onto the pushed up arse cheeks of... I can't see her face it's pushed into the tread of the seventh or eighth step with her housecoat and petticoat pushed up her body only her hair... and its ... mostly grey.
As I stand; jaw dropped, my bladder is forgotten and my cock pushes up to tent my trousers and jockey shorts. I don't even notice, every measurable amount of my attention was taken up with what I was seeing. Geoff takes the dregs of his come by using his finger and thumb to wipe it from the swollen angry looking red end of his cock, he gathers more of it from her arse cheeks in a sweeping move into the crease of her arse and then his thumb to push it right in. I heard her moan deeply as he leant forward and pushed his still hard cock into her shitter. Back then I didn't even know that men and women did that to each other - I thought that it was only gay men that did. Geoff held her butt cheeks apart and pushed unwaveringly until his pubes were rubbing against her skin. The third time he shoved his dick back into her she started to moan louder... then I heard her voice between the moans...
"Fuck my arse, Geoff... fuck it good...oooh yes Geoff."
For the first time I noticed that her elbows were bent so that she can twist and pull at her own nipples. My dick exploded in an orgasm strong enough to make my knees buckle. I staggered backwards until I was outside again. For some reason I pull the door, it almost slams and I nearly die before I stop it just in time. I leave it open an inch and stand outside on the path bending forward slightly clutching my still spurting cock. I notice that there's a privy door further round the house by the side entrance, and feeling all whirly and faint I stagger to its door.
There's a modern loo and small basin. I drop to the seat and get my breath before pulling down my cotton chinos and shorts. It was a mess in there; I'd come about ten times more than I'd ever done previously and my knob was still hard as a lightening rod. I used a tissue from a box above the sink to make a sloppy boyish attempt at dabbing all of the mess from me and my shorts. All I really achieved was to spread it thinner and farther. It takes me a minute to catch my breath and I remember that I had been desperate for a pee... my dick is so erect that the only place I would have hit if I tried peeing from a standing position would have been the wall or maybe even the ceiling. So I turn around to straddle the toilet facing backwards and press down on the upper side of my knob force it down, before I realise quite how uncomfortable it is I start to piss; in a jet speed torrent it bounces back towards me from the back of the bowl before dropping into the water below.
The relief was tempered by the pain which was edged by the state of total turn-on I felt due to the scene I had witnessed just a couple of minutes previously. I still felt hornier than ever before in my life and as it stopped peeing my dick once more returned to a state of standing to full attention was retaken up by what I'd just seen. I thought first about staying there and giving myself a quick hand job, then decided that I was going to take the risk of getting back in there for another look.
I was still adjusting my clothing as I approached the front door again which was pulled open just as I reached for it. I nearly died again.
"I thought I asked you to watch the van?"
