Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
As I lay on the bed with the soft early light of the summer sun creeping through the blinds casting a golden glow over the smooth skin of the beautiful woman lying gently sleeping next to me I watched flecks of dust sparkle and dance in the air and listened to her gentle breathing.
My mind began to wander and I recalled the events and coincidences of the last few days which had brought the two of us together.
* * * * * * * * *
I was orphaned when I was 12 and given into the custody of my only living relative, an elderly maiden aunt, and promptly turned into a real tearaway (well to be honest I was bordering on a delinquent) and the only thing that stopped me getting thrown out of school and into a detention centre at 15 was discovering computers through a stroke of brilliance on the part of the one teacher who had not given up all hope on me. I rapidly found that not only did I have an aptitude for programming and computing but I also had a distinct talent for it and that this was an opening to a host of jobs. I turned myself around in my last senior year managing to cram in a massive amount of study and pass enough core GCSE’s with high enough grades to go on to college for 2 years to study computing. I earned money whilst studying by working part-time as a very junior programmer with a consultancy firm that was made full time as soon as I graduated. Promotions rapidly followed which in no time at all led me to working all around the globe as a troubleshooter before starting my own business designing software systems.
The pace was absolutely punishing, so much so that at 34 I found that I wanted nothing more than to settle down somewhere quiet and chill out before the work took it’s toll and I burned out like a number of my contemporaries – I sold some pieces of software I had developed over a couple of years for an obscenely high 8-figure sum to an international aeronautics company, wound up my firm and soon found a picture postcard country cottage about 15 minutes walk from a thriving little market town in the heart of Southern England.
It was perfect – my study overlooked a large mature garden with a river running through the bottom of it and the rolling green hills beyond. I could spend hours walking through the quiet lanes and fields hardly meeting a soul while enjoying my own company, it was bliss.
* * * * * * * * *
Although I was officially ‘retired’ I still kept my hand in by helping out old contacts with interesting challenges that occasionally popped up. I had been working on such a problem one morning and was about to print out a raft of code when my printer died – as I wasn’t really on any kind of deadline I popped into the village to see if it would be an easy repair or a replacement and was enjoying a cup of tea with the owner of the computer shop, Peter, when a large middle-aged man burst into the shop demanding help. He was in a highly agitated state and, oblivious to my presence, rushed to tell Peter that the computerised lighting system in the town theatre had just died. He made it sound like a disaster on a par with an oil tanker running aground and catching my eye Peter pointed to me and said that I was far better qualified to assist since I was a computer guru. He knew full well I had nothing better to do until I had a working printer again and would not object so I offered my services and followed the man up to the theatre. When we arrived the auditorium was almost pitch black, but I could just make out that the stage was full of backcloths, scenery & props all piled up in front of a huge 2 decked steam ship set with staircases and balconies that entirely filled the back of the stage.
Five minutes work with the torch on my phone found the electricity control panel containing the trip switch to restore the emergency lighting – another 5 minutes of swapping cables and I’d bypassed the lighting console restoring full basic lighting to the auditorium at a stroke.
Having regained a degree of composure the man introduced himself as Brian, the theatre manager and he thanked me profusely for what I had done, explaining that the local amateur dramatic society was setting up ready for their summer production the following week.
Unexpectedly from behind me came a low, soft, purring voice, “Brian, do introduce me to our darling saviour”. Brian instantly coloured up as he stammered “Genevieve, this is Mark – he happened to be in Peter’s shop just now and came to help when he heard of our problem”.
I turned to see a voluptuous forty-something woman standing there wrapped in a short red Chinese style silk robe. Bottle blonde curls cascaded over her shoulders, framing a finely featured face with deep blue eyes and ruby lips. The narrow ribbon tied in a bow around the small waist of the robe was doing a valiant job of keeping the firm curves of a stunning hourglass figure contained and her long tanned legs were finished off with a pair of gold high-heeled shoes.
She casino şirketleri cannot have failed to notice my appraising glance and looked me directly in the eye – “I am the society’s chairperson”, she cooed, “I was just down in the dressing room trying on some of my costumes for the show when all of the lights went out leaving me positively helpless”.
I fought hard to prevent a wry smile breaking across my face as I thought to myself that Genevieve was the type of woman who would never ever be ‘positively helpless’ in the dark but any man with her may well be.
Genevieve continued, “I’m afraid that our usual lighting expert, Stan, was taken ill last week and I must confess that I did rather press one of our very willing, but not terribly experienced, young men from the society to volunteer to set up the lighting board. I do believe it may be that which caused the very exciting blackout”.
I’m not psychic but even I could foresee what was coming next – “I don’t suppose you could be an absolute darling and possibly see your way clear to helping us out as you seem to understand these computer things so well”.
Why not I thought, it could be a bit of a challenge and a bit of a giggle – so I agreed on the spot and the next thing I knew Genevieve squealed and threw her arms around me pressing her lips hard against mine. She kissed me passionately – her tongue pressing against my lips and slipping in between probing hotly. The heady scent of her perfume was overpowering, the feeling of her full, firm breasts pressed against my chest and her thigh grinding between my legs had me growing hard against her almost immediately.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The memory of that situation was enough to stir my loins once more and my sleeping partner must have subconsciously picked up on my semi-aroused state since she rolled slightly further onto her side, pushing back towards me to spoon and in doing so my burgeoning hard-on nestled comfortably in the warm cleft of her buttocks. I snuggled closer letting my arm drape lightly over her side and waist and my fingertips gently brush her gossamer soft skin before drifting off into my reverie once more.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
There was a loud cough and Genevieve drew back quickly behind Brian, leaving the taste of her lipstick on my lips and me standing there stunned with a rampant erection. As she readjusted her robe I had the briefest glimpse of a dark brown areola and the full, smooth, tanned inner curve of a breast – not by chance I knew. I was hoping desperately that my hard on was not showing since I was wearing baggy combat style shorts. Brian quickly pressed a thick folder into my hand, together with a copy of the script for the show – “Anything Goes”.
I made a hasty goodbye and tore outside, glad to be in the warm fresh air, heading straight for the pub by the river to regain my composure, grab a bit of lunch and for a spot of rapid learning of things theatrical. As I sat with a pint & a ploughman’s my heart rate returned to normal, my erection subsided and I stopped thinking about what had just happened, starting instead to realise what I had let myself in for. I looked at the folder first that contained a stack of manuals and technical schematics for the theatre wiring, lighting units, sound equipment, etc, as well as page after page of regulations to be observed. As my apprehension level grew I opened the script and immediately issued a silent prayer of thanks for the wonderful Stan.
There were sheets of plans detailing what lights to put where, what colour gels to fit and details of what effects should appear when, plus each page of the script was full of neatly hand-written cues against the actors words. All I had to do was to make it happen – which would be a whole lot easier if I had the one instruction manual that appeared to be missing – the one for the lighting console I had unplugged to restore the theatre lighting.
At the very back of the book were two typed sheets of names, addresses and phone numbers that I assumed to be society members, confirmed when I saw amongst them one Genevieve Mason-Finch (very upper class name) and a Stan Groom. A quick call from my mobile and I’d arranged a meeting with Stan who as luck would have it lived about 5 minutes walk from my own home.
As I approached Stan’s house I could see he lived in one of a pair of adjacent bungalows, with neat lawns & flowerbeds surrounded by a well-trimmed hedge. The man himself, who appeared to be in his late sixties, was waiting on the door as I reached his garden gate and he greeted me warmly before ushering me inside, A couple of bottles of home brew magically appeared in Stan’s hand as we went into his study to talk about what I had agreed to do.
Stan explained that he’d had a bit of a scare with his heart recently but luckily his daughter, who lived in the house next door, was a former nurse & now a radiographer in the local hospital casino firmaları and had been subtly looking after him since his wife had died some 10 years ago. As well as answering my plethora of technical questions he handed me a CD which not only contained the manuals for the lighting console but a virtual console programme with a fully programmed set of lighting instructions – the desk could be hooked up to, and operated from, a laptop which is what Stan did, programming everything at home & fine tuning in the theatre. He fired up the MacBook Pro on his desk, a twin of the one on my own desk at home, and gave me a quick lesson in theatre lighting by demonstrating the virtual console and showing a 3D animated stage on which the scenery & lighting was shown with live effects. There was no doubt that this old man was a technical genius as well as a seriously nice bloke.
In addition to all of his technical knowledge, Stan was also a mine of gossip on everything and everyone in the society. We took a break from the computer and went into the garden for another round of his excellent homebrew in the afternoon sunshine.
“So what did you think of the merry widow then?” asked Stan, “Who’s that?” I replied. “Well Genevieve of course, she’s only forty four but she’s outlived three husbands already – mind you, all of them were well into their sixties or seventies on the wedding day and I bet they all went with smiles on their faces. Her last husband was a real Lord. Don’t let her corner you on your own though because she’s a right man-eater, as all of the men in the troupe can confirm – not in earshot of any of the wives though. She’s playing one of the lead roles in the show, Mrs Wadsworth Harcourt, and I tell you ‘Anything Goes’ is the perfect choice of show for that lot”.
I laughed and remembering what had just happened I thanked my lucky stars that Brian had been around. I told Stan what had occurred and explained that whilst I wasn’t offended I also wasn’t interested in random hanky-panky either, especially the kind that would cause hassle with people I had not even met properly yet. He chuckled and said he would have a quiet word and let it be known I was off-limits. “Do you think you have that sort of influence with Genevieve?” I asked and with a glint in his eye he replied “Me and Gen go back a long way and if she listens to anyone then it’s me”. I sensed there was a lot more to that comment than met the eye but felt now was not the time for that particular conversation so did not press further.
He continued by telling me the society was highly regarded and had been going for over 75 years attracting a large membership of all ages from 8 to 80 who came from the village itself & wider surrounding area – the bad news was I had only 2 days until the dress rehearsal to learn the system and physically set up the lights, oh joy! I could see Stan tiring so I thanked him for his help and headed home to swot up – I phoned Brian that evening & arranged to go into the theatre at 8am the following morning to get some work done.
Brian met me promptly & handed me a set of keys for the theatre saying he was going into a meeting until three or four in the afternoon and I could come and go as I pleased. He seriously seemed to have the hump over the scene the day before with Genevieve so I just took the keys and got to work.
Overnight the society members had been in to clear the stage area, set up the remaining scenery and hang all of the curtains. Now I knew where everything was to go I was fine but it still took all morning to bolt lanterns to lighting bars and winch them into place above the stage so I popped out to grab a sandwich before starting on the lights set into the ceiling above the auditorium seats. A couple of sets of ladders at the back of the sound & lighting control booth led past the spotlight platform to a series of narrow catwalks in the roof void about 40 feet over the seating area – I was glad I’d never had a fear of heights – and the only way to work was to lie face down on the gantry to set the 3 rows of lights fitted into the roof space directly over the auditorium focussed down onto the stage through openings in sets of specially designed ceiling tiles.
The back and middle row took less than 30 minutes to adjust but before I could start work on the front set that were almost immediately above the orchestra pit in front of the stage apron I became aware of low voices and female laughter, obviously I wasn’t the only person with a set of keys and figured someone from the drama group had come to pick up something while I popped out. A lad of about 19 or 20 came on stage in a blue & white sailors costume comprising a striped form fitting top with a sailors cap and the widest bell-bottom trousers I’d ever seen followed by a girl of about the same age also dressed in a little sailor-ette outfit that was a figure hugging minidress with short capped sleeves which she filled spectacularly güvenilir casino and pill box hat. I managed to make out that their names were John and Fleur despite the fact that their voices were quite indistinct due to how far above them I was perched. He was obviously playing the part of a sailor from the chorus and the girl was playing the part of Chastity, one of “Reno’s Angels” – I very much doubted that she would actually live up to that name though.
John was carrying a CD player that he set down on the front corner of the stage; he then took up position on the top of a staircase at one side of the stage leading to the top deck whilst Fleur went to the identical position on the other side of the stage. John started the music with a remote and they began to practice what turned out to be a very energetic and difficult dance routine. They had obviously been cast due to their vast dance ability, age & fitness as the pace was tremendous and involved John undertaking numerous lifts and spins of Fleur as well as even carrying her seated on his shoulder. It also soon became obvious that John was starting to feel the effects of all this close physical contact as a pronounced bulge had built up in his silken sailor trousers visible even from my high perch.
As the music came to a halt Fleur hadn’t failed to notice how excited John had become and began to rub her hand up and down the outside of his trousers as he stood rooted to the spot like a shop window mannequin – it was frustrating that I could not hear what was being said because their voices were too low but whatever it was it jolted him from his frozen stupor as Fleur took John by the hand and led him through the curtains and into the wings, safely out of sight of the auditorium but still in plain view from my elevated position. She wasted no time at all in undoing the belt and buttons of John’s trousers and pulling them down to his ankles together with his boxer shorts in one swift move springing his erection free before pushing him backwards so he was lying over the top of a stack of very large packing trunks which I assumed were stage props for the show.
Fleur dropped to her knees and began to deliver an impressive blowjob. John was a fairly well endowed lad, his engorged member was not massively long, about the average 5-6 inches (tough to tell accurately from the height I was viewing from) but quite thick – the petite young woman had dainty hands and they were only just able to circle his entire girth. Fleur applied a few brief kisses to the head, shaft and balls before she hungrily sucked his swollen cock into her mouth like an industrial hoover. Several times her cheeks bulged as she paused momentarily, I assume she was doing something fairly impressive with her tongue around his shaft whilst it was engulfed judging by the lads gormless look of ecstasy. John started to moan loudly and buck almost straight away, within a minute he was bouncing his ass off the packing cases as he came in Fleur’s mouth. She stayed with her mouth clamped over John’s penis swallowing every drop while he shot his load and when he collapsed back down completely spent she came away from his groin smiling and wiping her lips before adjusting her little sailors hat & smoothing down her rumpled dress which had ridden up to give me a peek at a full round ass contained within blue satin panties.
It was lucky that John didn’t have any staying power as at that moment a door banged open somewhere at the back of the auditorium and the kids rapidly disappeared off down to the many dressing rooms under the stage whilst I quietly made my way down from the gantry to the lighting booth.
* * * * * * * * * * *
I was beginning to wish my sleeping partner was actually awake as I now had to contend with a full on woodie. Hoping to wake her gently as a prelude to something more intense I slowly began to rock my prick up and down the silky cleft of her ass savouring the feeling each time my balls pressed tightly into the tailor-made groove between cheeks and thighs. With my free hand I delicately traced a random zig-zag pattern against her flat tummy expanding out from her cutely indented belly button with it’s dainty jewelled piercing until I was alternately grazing the underside of her beautiful perky breasts and the edges of her neatly trimmed pubic bush.
Confirmation that my attention was paying dividends came when, as I slid my rigid prick down once more my partner shifted her upper leg and my dick sprang into the newly opened gap between her thighs prior to the engorged purple head parting her lubricated lips on the next upstroke and by pure luck, or her skilful planning, entered her hot, wet tunnel. It was obvious from the advanced state of arousal that someone was not quite as asleep as she was making out.
I was now happy to rest a while and enjoy the sublime feeling of being totally enveloped in this glorious union, changing the pattern of my stroking hand to one of describing concentric circles over her abdomen and reaping the benefits of having her vaginal muscles pulsating and massaging my cock as my fingertips brushed through the short soft hair pointing the way to the hot vee between her legs.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32