Sorry for my lack of blogs people, but my life has been fraught with family tragedies and problems. Don’t feel I can share all the awfulness at the moment so will just have to take an enforced blog holiday. In the meantime here is another chapter from my book to keep you occupied. (Contains Sexual content). I do get myself into some sticky situations :)..enjoy!.
Chapter Seven
WALTZING MATILDA
The day had started badly, management meeting in branch at 9am so focus, focus, focus! Besides being preoccupied with whether the Aussie toyboy would turn up for our date that evening, I was somewhat concerned about Matilda, my baby granddaughter. My daughter and the baby were staying with me, due to the demise of her relationship, not an easy arrangement. I only had a ‘two up two down’ Victorian terrace now, since the four bedrooms, two bathrooms, with tree views, had been sold. My son, of course, had opted to stay in London with me, and not go to “Christmas Cottage” in the Norfolk countryside with his Dad, so now baby made four. I had given my daughter and the baby my bedroom, so I either slept on the sofa or went to my other daughter’s flat to sleep. My car could be seen whipping backwards and forwards late evenings and early mornings and my life was rather over-full! Returning that morning, I came in and picked up my gorgeous granddaughter to give her a kiss when I noticed that one of her lips seemed a little blue. Matilda was otherwise on good form but she had been a bit chesty. I told my daughter to keep a close eye on her and I would check in later.
The meeting was tough, the recession was biting hard and we were trying to find a strategy to cope in the now, very precarious, world of recruitment. We broke for lunch at about twelve and I checked my phone, still no messages from my toyboy with excuses of “so sorry can’t
make it tonight” in fact no messages at all, not even the sort I am used to receiving from him, going into great detail of what he’d like to do to me, when and if he gets here.
I decided to go get lunch and in the process check in on the baby. My house is just across the road from the office, so I called in. I didn’t like what I saw. The blue patch on her lip was still there and to my mind she seemed a little ‘bluish’ around the cheeks as well. Without further ado, I gave my daughter Laura instructions to take her to the Casualty department at the hospital, just to be on the safe side. (Thoughts of heart conditions or chest infections came to mind and although she seemed fine, better to be safe than sorry.)
Returning to the Office, I decided to text my toyboy for affirmation of our date. “Hi just checking that u still on track 4 later?” I pressed the send button before I had a chance to change my mind – no news is good news – but I just wanted to make sure. Five minutes passed no reply. Then ten minutes, still no reply. Eventually, after checking my phone a million times with that sinking feeling that I was about to be told that “something had come up”. He finally responded with “yes indeed – was I?” Was I? I’d been on the track and five times round it already. It had only taken him two months to get to see me this time. However, that aside, I was quietly excited by the prospect of seeing him again, and what would follow. In the back of my mind was the nagging worry of ‘hope the Baby is ok’.
Back to work, focus, focus. My daughter rang at 3.00pm. She had been seen by the Doctor and they said that all the signs were normal, oxygen levels etc, but as a precaution they just wanted to call the Paediatric Registrar. So she was waiting. Reassured, I took my maternal head off and put my work head back on.
The afternoon went quickly. I had a number of things to do before I could relax into the anticipation of the evening. I had to go home and feed the dogs, as my daughter couldn’t. Rushing in, I met my son eighteen going on fifteen, 6ft 4ins with the appetite of an elephant and apparently in need of a shirt for work. “Have you seen one mum?” he asked. “Yes” I said “it’s on the line, drying, but it will need ironing.” A look of bewilderment covers his face; he is not familiar with the word “ironing” and even less familiar with the activity. “Ok” I said “I will get it in” but no time for ironing, I would throw it in the tumble drier! I kicked off my stilettos, so that I could rush about without breaking a leg and hurried into the garden, nearly tripping over the dogs as I did so, barefoot and paying no attention, I tread straight into a pile of dog poo! Lovely! Hot date in less than an hour and now I’ll have to go and shower my feet and between my toes – Yuk!
Hopping back into the house and wiping the worst off, I go to the bathroom and shower and thoroughly wash my feet. So, son’s shirt in tumble drier, dogs fed, wine and beer collected, back into the car and down to my other daughter’s flat that she was kindly letting me use for my assignation. (Due to my daughter and baby’s return this flat is now my refuge and second home.) Putting the beer in the fridge I checked out ‘my’ bedroom as I now refer to it. Removing Harvey, the giant furry rabbit, from the pillow where he sits, a present from her Nan, very sweet but not quite the right thing to have staring at you when you are getting naked with a young man. I look for somewhere to put him. The room is not very big and stacked up against the wall is a pile of over full suitcases that belong to my other daughter; we are all housing bits of her previous life. Oh well, no time to set the scene, it would just have to do! Plonking Harvey down on top of the suitcases, I rushed out of the flat and back into the car. Onto the stables to get the horse in from the fields and fed, the clock was ticking….
My phone went off. My toyboy was on schedule and should arrive at the station by 6.00pm. It was already 5.45pm – better get a move on, just time for a quick freshen up. Then my phone starts ringing; this time it’s my daughter, good hopefully she’s home. But No! The Consultant has decided that as a precaution they wanted to take some blood tests from the baby and want to admit her and my daughter overnight. Great! Mother Head back on “was she gonna be ok till I could get there?” “Yes” friend with her, not to worry, carry on regardless.
By now the train was on its way. I had no choice but to carry on, but feeling like the worst mother in the world, I called my other daughter for input. “Don’t worry Mum, you go and enjoy yourself. You deserve some ‘Me’ time and you’ve been waiting for him to come over for so long…Laura and the baby will be fine. She’s in the best place and her friends there.” I felt a bit better and
Immediately took ‘Mother’ head off and put the ‘Seductive Older Lover’ head on. My life is never simple!
I manage to get to the station just as the train pulls in. I haven’t seen him for some weeks and there he is smiling broadly bounding over to my car looking gorgeous in a suit. He leans in and gives me a big kiss on the lips, lovely, but he does look ridiculous in my pink lipstick. I whisk him off to the flat, roof down, sun shining and wind blowing in my hair. “God, I hope he hasn’t spotted my extensions” I thought! We park up at the flat and as I put the roof back on the car, I notice that I’d left Matilda’s rattle on the back seat. Hope he hadn’t spotted it. He fondly refers to me as his “sexy M.I.L.F.” I hadn’t got around to telling him that I was now elevated to G.I.L.F. status!
We go into the flat, music on, wine opened, a few pleasantries, and lots of kissing. A few more pleasantries and lots of groping and we were under starters orders – yummy. I lead him by the hand into the bedroom. I have never seen anyone get a suit off so quickly and there he is naked before me. He pulls my dress over my head and immediately starts to wrestle with my bra pulling it down to expose my nipples sucking on them really hard. We kiss frantically in between manoeuvring ourselves on to the bed.
I kiss his broad shoulders and run my fingers through his chest hair (he has just the right amount). He pushes me back and dives between my legs. I am lying across the bed and he is now kneeling on the floor. He is tall and beds with ends don’t lend themselves very easily to his favourite pastime so we have to be inventive. “Ooh I love the ginge” he moans as he dives in tongue first. Hmm, let me explain, although sporting a full head of blond locks I was a redhead in a previous life. As I got older the colour faded to blonde, on my head anyways. The rest of me remained true to my roots so I am still a “ginger minge”. I often feel the need to explain this bit but the Aussie loves it with a passion and the hairier the better. (My ex-husband used to complain about the amount of hair I sprouted down there and had given me quite a complex, nice then to find someone who can’t get enough of it).
My Aussie spends a long time worshiping it taking me to dizzy heights and then standing up he offers his cock up to my mouth for me to return the favour, which I do with relish. Extremely aroused now, I am desperate to have him inside me and, whispering that in his ear, he leaps across to the side of the bed where he dropped his trousers and produces a condom.
He is fanatical about using them, which is fine with me. Adept at getting them on in a matter of seconds he is swiftly inside me taking my breath away as he plunges in. He drives in an out of me hard and strong causing me to moan loudly and I have a fleeting thought about my daughter’s neighbours and hope they can’t hear me. He keeps his bright blue eyes firmly fixed on mine to watch my delight, making things more intense. Feeling the need to be more in control I push him over and climb on top just too slow things down a little. I take him back
Inside me and ride him gently, picking up speed until I am totally lost in the moment. Whispering to me softly he says “I want to take you from behind” I get up to oblige as he stands up and I roll over.
A minute passes and I’m still waiting, backside in the air. Then I hear his voice behind me “Erm the bed has moved” “what?” I say, he repeats “the bed has moved”. I roll over onto my side to look and to my amazement the bed has gone from one side of the room to the other and is now rammed up against the bloody suitcases. I’ve heard of the earth moving but the bed?! Poor Harvey had been knocked unceremoniously on to the floor or maybe he was just covering his eyes! My Aussie shaking his head says “Shall I move it back?”. Giggling loudly I say “Nah” and pull him back down to the bed, kissing him some more before he turns me over to take me from behind.
I am almost exhausted by the time he says “I’m coming” and taking himself out and whipping off the condom, I turn over and he comes all over my breasts. It feels warm and sticky and I love it. Running my fingers through it, I lick my fingers before collapsing on the bed, I put my head on his chest and he holds me while we recover and chatting quietly we laugh about the moving bed. I again cast my thoughts in the direction of my daughter’s neighbours. Hope they hadn’t heard us; we obviously had been very carried away. (They will think my daughter is having a really good evening if they had.)
After ten minutes or so my Aussie suggests we have a cigarette I nod in agreement.
Getting up from the bed I quickly put my underwear on and he starts buttoning up his shirt. “Better throw that condom away” he says and starts to look for it. It’s nowhere to be seen. We hunt high and low but there is absolutely no sign of it. I get on my hands and knees to look under the bed and rummage through the bed covers, with no luck. “Don’t worry” I say “we can look again in a minute.” We go to the kitchen to put the kettle on, lighting cigarettes, and settle back on the sofa chatting happily, both in the afterglow that follows great sex.
One of the things I like about this man is the fact that he has many sides. He is a professional, suit and tie man, highly educated and can hold a good conversation and is witty and makes me laugh. But he is also a bad boy. He smokes and drinks too much; he’s definitely one of the boys and makes it clear he goes on benders. I imagine he has dabbled in drugs and the first time I got him naked I was amazed to see he was sporting a number of exotic tattoos all hidden under the suit. There is a lot of banter between us but he is also complimentary and respectful.
As a package he ticks a lot of boxes. His bright blue eyes flash with intelligence and although he wears glasses they don’t detract from his charm. I think Australian Clark Kent although I’m not sure he would look quite as good in the superman leotard as although he has great shoulders the rest of him is quite lean. Anyway all in all, I am quite smitten and I found myself wondering wistfully why they didn’t make them like him when I was younger.
Checking his watch, he says he better go. He has a long journey home and quite a few train changes. I pick up my car keys and as we pass the bedroom he stops and
Says “Oh, what about the condom?” I reply that I will come back and look. (Last thing I want is my very tolerant daughter finding a used condom.) I drop him back at the station kissing him a passionate goodbye and with promises of a return visit, he disappears into the station.
I immediately put my mother head back on (I’ve swopped heads more times than Wurzel Gummidge today) and zoom up the road to the hospital. I find my daughter and granddaughter in a room of their own and all seems well. They are keeping her in just as a precaution and to wait for the blood test results. Her friend, still in the room asks me where I’ve been as I look dishevelled and am sporting ‘sex hair’. I regale tales of my Aussie encounter and the bed moving and missing condom. Disapproving daughter immediately starts tutting “you had better get back and find it” she says with great drama, implying that approving daughter will not be happy!
As her friend leaves, my daughter asks me to get her a few things and I jump back in the car and drive down the road to the local shops, getting everything on her list. By now it’s nearly 10.30 pm and frankly this “Cougar” is bloody exhausted. I make sure that both my daughter and the baby are settled for the night and drive home. I decide to make a clean breast of the condom story to approving daughter and she says “don’t worry mum come find it tomorrow.” That was a relief; I was dead on my feet.
Opening my front door I am greeted by my son (6ft 4ins with the appetite of an elephant remember) “Alright Mum? What’s for dinner? I’m starving.” I look at him in disbelief, its 11pm. I’ve been on the go all day and now I have to cook? I wearily go to the kitchen and suggest a couple of burgers, he says fine. I really must train him better! Placing them on the grill I climb the stairs dragging my feet.
Kicking off my stilettos and reaching for my dressing gown I sit down on the bed pondering the day. At least with my daughter in the hospital I can sleep in my own bed tonight. Slipping out of my skirt and pulling my top over my head I undo my bra and standing up to put my dressing gown on I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Something catches my eye and I go up close to the mirror for a better look. What on earth is that? Squashed and stuck firmly to my left breast is the missing condom. Roaring with laughter and glee I peel it off and drop it in the bin. My son hearing my whooping asks me what I’m laughing at. “Nothing” I answer, stifling another giggle. I text the Aussie that I have found the offender in my bra, which he finds hilarious! I am brought back to reality as the smell of burning burgers wafts up the stairs…..what a day!
