Going Up and Going Down (25 page)

Before we
tucked into our starter, I was surprised at his next question,

“Babe, will you
stay with me until Monday morning?” He explained that his flight would be leaving
Heathrow at five past three in the afternoon and that an appointment he
originally had for nine o’clock had been cancelled leaving him free for the
morning.

“Of course, I
would love to. There’s my shift at the hotel, but I’ll call in sick. I’ve never
done that before but it won’t matter, it’s not as if I have a bad attendance
record.”

The
presentation of all three courses was excellent. For a small, local, catering
company, the chef was excellent, and the food was better than some meals I have
been served up in a few top class restaurants over the years. I didn’t know
what each dish was called, but there was very little left on my plate. David’s
appetite was not as good as mine, but again, I think this was all down to his
body clock being out of sync. After the caterers had gone we still sat at the
dining table, working our way down the second bottle of wine.

“Can I still
give you your present tomorrow, David, or does that have to wait until Monday
now?”

“No, babe. It
has to be Monday. I have another present for you as well…but don’t start
protesting, please.” he added, just as I opened my mouth to do so.

We sat in
silence for a few moments longer before he took my hand, led me from the dining
table, switching off the dining room light and the stereo en route, and up the
stairs.

We made love
for the second time since my arrival. I noticed the difference with our oral
sex this time. It was all part of our love-making session, carried out with
passion, tenderness, exploration, and pure joy. There was no urgency for
climax, at least, not at the start, though our actions were leaving us
breathless. When I sensed that he was ready to enter me, I urged him to sit on
the floor, with his back resting against the bed. I sat astride him, and he was
inside me, already moaning with need. He was tired so I told him to him to
leave it to me. I rode him, my inner muscles gripping around his penis, gently
at first, then more tightly, and faster, as I was ready to take his love juice
and feel that passion exploding from me too.

I slept well,
other than waking briefly in the early hours and glancing across towards David
who was laid on his back. I just managed to make out, by his silhouette, that
his eyes were open, and he was looking up towards the ceiling. I hoped he would
soon get back into his normal sleep pattern. I hated seeing him looking so
exhausted. I asked him to turn over and I cuddled up close to him. I didn’t
turn away from him until he was fast asleep.

He made us
breakfast on the Sunday morning and brought it upstairs to bed. He had been
busy – he’d even popped out and bought Sunday newspapers. It was a real novelty
for me. I wasn’t really a breakfast person, but to have it brought up to bed,
along with the papers, yes I could cope with that - with David by my side at
least. He’d removed his clothing before getting back into bed with me.
Thankfully, it was a light breakfast - fruit juice, some cereal, croissants,
some toast with a variety of conserves and freshly ground coffee. We ate and
drank our coffee in silence as we scanned the main news articles in the papers,
then we shifted these off the bed and cuddled up together,

“What would you
like to do today, sweetie?” I asked him.

“I’ll leave it
up to you, Helen. I’m not too bothered. I just want to enjoy every precious
second with you.”

I couldn’t
believe I was hearing those words from a client. Words I loved hearing, but
words that filled me with such fear. I started thinking about Monday morning,
about saying goodbye, and I had to turn my face away from him as my eyes glazed
with tears. We never left the house throughout the day, making love once in the
morning and again in the afternoon, lots of kissing, and talking. We listened
to music all day, played two games of chess and talked.

David decided
on a ride into the country that evening to find a quiet country pub where
nobody would be likely to recognise us. We were quite hungry, not having eaten
since our breakfast in bed. Fortunately, there were only one or two locals in
the pub we found. We ordered two chicken salads and within an hour and a half,
we were full and heading back. I didn’t feel like talking on the journey back
and he kept asking if I was okay. I wanted to open up to him and tell him I
didn’t want to leave him the next day, but he didn’t seem to have a lot to say
either so I thought it best not to mention it. He still looked very tired. I
hoped he would get a good night’s sleep before his week’s agenda.

“Early night
for us, sweetie. Let’s make love first and then you must get plenty of sleep.”
I told him.

“That suits
me.”

Not bothering
with the usual wine or champers we headed straight upstairs to bed. We laid
there doing nothing except kiss for half an hour until we both started
exploring with our hands. I couldn’t wait to make love one more time but for
some reason, no matter how much I fondled, and tried to coax his penis along,
it did not want to play. He said he wanted me badly but after ten minutes or so
it was clear to us both that a hard-on was just not going to happen. He started
getting angry with himself and his dick,

“Babe, I want
you so much and this fucking thing is not bloody having it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not a
problem, David – you are far too tired. We’ll leave it until morning.”

Neither of us
slept well. I was fretting about our parting the next morning, not knowing when
I would see him again. I lay there staring into space, facing the window, all
night. David was very restless and tossed and turned constantly. I think I
finally gave in to sleep around four o’clock and when I woke again it was ten
past six. David was asleep, but as I didn’t know how long it had been since
he’d dropped off, I carefully climbed out of bed so as not to wake him.

I got things
ready for breakfast, putting David’s present next to his plate. I was looking
forward to seeing his face when he saw the watch and when he heard what I had
to say to him. I sat in the lounge in silence, going over time and again what I
had already rehearsed in my head. I heard footsteps, first across the bedroom
floor and then on the stairs.

“Helen. Where
did you go? What are you doing down here? I missed you.”

“Come and sit
down, let’s go in the dining room, breakfast can be ready in five minutes - I
want to give you your present.” I was getting excited.

“I need to talk
to you, Helen.”

“I need to talk
to you, too.” I grabbed his hand and dragged him through to the dining room,
plonked him on the chair in front of the present and urged him,

“Go on, open
it.”

“Babe…”

“Just open it,
David.”

I watched, as
his hands shook, he started to peel off the wrapping paper.

“I…oh, hell,
babe. You…shouldn’t...” His eyes registered the shock as he stared at the watch
and he handled it so carefully.

“Turn it over.
See the engraving on the back.”

“Oh, my god!
It’s truly…beautiful. Thank you, Helen.”

There were
tears beginning to form in his eyes, as he read the tiny words. ♥♥ Came
together! All my love, Helen xx

“Two hearts -
came together. I like the sexual innuendo that you cleverly worked in.” he
chuckled “It’s beautiful, Helen. I won’t ask how much...”

I was puzzled,
he’d chuckled, smiled and been emotional when he had seen the engraving, but he
looked serious. I felt an uneasiness I couldn’t explain.

“No. Don’t.”

“I will go and
get my present to you. Then we must talk.” he made his way to the sideboard in
the lounge.

He came back
with an identical gift bag to the one he had handed me those few weeks back. I
opened it slowly, savouring each second of excitement. He watched me with eyes
that were glazed over, doing his best to hold back his tears. I began to
realize what a caring and emotional man he was. This time his gift was a
diamond bracelet that matched the pendant I already had - eight diamonds,
smaller than that on the pendant, but no less beautiful. I was stunned.

“Here, let me.” and his hands fiddled shakily with the clasp for a moment or two until my right wrist
displayed the new bracelet. Without a word of warning he dropped his bombshell.

“Babe…Helen…this
is the last time we can see each other. I can’t…”

The very words
I had dreaded. I felt sick, devastated.

“What? But I
thought…?”

“That…I loved
you? Yes. I do. Believe me, I do.”

“Then why? I
love you. I…is this because of what I do?”

“Yes. No, I
mean…”

I butted in,
alarm bells ringing in my head, dreading what he was going to say if I didn’t
cut him off.

“Because I
would give it all up for you - my clients, everything!”

I felt such
desperation to plead to him, beg him not to do this, I had to try.

“Helen, I know
you would give it all up. I hope you will one day. I’m doing this to protect
you…because I love you.”

“Protect me
from what exactly, David? You don’t have to protect me from anything, if we’re
together. I just want...”

“…to be with
me? I know. But you can’t be. Helen. It’s my job, we wouldn’t get the time
together. You’d end up being hurt by me, like my two ex-wives…and my daughters.
The distance…and the time apart, it has
killed
my relationships in the
past, not just wives, there have been girlfriends too that have fallen by the
wayside. I can’t be in a relationship, Helen – people get hurt. That’s what I’m
trying to protect you from, the hurt. The loneliness - it’s not what I want for
you.”

“But I’m used
to the loneliness. I am actually
married
, you assumed he’s my boyfriend.
I have been
very
alone every day during that marriage. I could cope. I
could even come with you - everywhere.”

“It’s not a
holiday, babe. It would mean you being alone all the time, in a hotel room,
whilst I’m in business meetings and some go on until late at night. Or you
would be wandering around a city alone. It’s not the same. It’s not the life I
want for you.”

“Please,
David…?”

“No, Helen.
This is my final word. This is hurting me like hell to do this to you - to hurt
you, but I have to, for both our sakes. Please try to understand.”

He had let his
tears start to flow and in understanding that he meant it, that he was not to
be talked out of it, this was actually his final word - I cried too. He came
and held me and we stood for an age, holding each other, weeping with our
mutual sadness until I broke away and demanded,

“Make love to
me, David…one last time…please. Because you love me…?”

“I can’t,
Helen. That’s why I couldn’t do it last night…because of all this. I can’t do
it again. It would hurt me all the more. And it would hurt you even more
afterwards, I know it would.”

He was right. I
was hurting already. I felt as if the bottom had fallen out of my world. I
wanted to crawl into a corner and never emerge. I couldn’t even bear to look at
him.

“I’ve got to
get out of here, now. The longer I stay, the worse it will be. I won’t be able
to leave you.”

I showered as
fast as I could then but I skipped putting on any make-up for once. There
didn’t seem to be any point. As I threw my belongings in my overnighter he was
sat on the bed watching me, his tears had almost stopped, but he was powerless
- unable to comfort me, trying hard as he was, to deal with his own hurt. As I
zipped up my bag I cast him a quick glance and made for the bedroom door and
downstairs. I just wanted to be gone, away from him.

He ran down the
stairs after me and clutching at straws, I turned around, hoping he’d had a
last minute change of heart.

“Here’s your
money, babe.” he said, holding out an envelope.

“I’m not taking
it from you. I don’t want it.” I snapped “What are you paying me for, David?
For…for…loving you?”

This was the
first time I had ever snapped at him and he reeled with shock, almost
staggering backwards. The hurt in his eyes was genuine and I softened towards
him.

“I’m so sorry,
David. I shouldn’t have said it in that manner. I
do
love you.”

“I’m sorry too.
Please, don’t let’s part on bad terms, Helen. Come here.”

We shared a
final embrace and a final passionate kiss, and I let go of him. I didn’t dare
look back, as I walked away down the street.

I put a call in
to work when I got home. I said I was really ill and would be visiting my G.P.
later that day. My doctor signed me off for an interim period of two weeks. I
had used my O.C.D. as an excuse. I used my time alone to try to get over him. I
convinced myself that I hadn’t really been in love with him. He had been the
first person to show me affection and warmth since me parents had died and I
think I had somehow latched onto that and believed I was in love with him.

I didn’t
receive any client calls whilst I was off work and I was at least relieved
about that. I returned to the hotel two weeks later, feeling better. I started
taking client calls again the same week.

I let myself in
the front door with the key that I had been given, and told to keep, not so
many months ago. He was one of my regulars and I was visiting him at his home.
He worked in London’s Stock Exchange. He was fifty eight and he had been
divorced for eleven years, his wife preferring the company of a twenty two year
old toy boy with a much bigger cock, as she had so hurtfully put it to my
client. The poor guy had so many hang ups after that, it had taken him over
nine years without sex, before he had heard through Simon about my services and
had plucked up the courage to call me a month after he got my number.

Our first
appointment had been over very quickly. He was still dressed when I had arrived
at his home and he explained how shy he was and the reasons behind it. His ex
wife had destroyed his confidence, persistently taunting him about the size of
his dick. I decided to play it very cautiously and try to help him rebuild some
confidence. We had talked for hours. I eventually put my hand on his knee and
asked if he would like to remove some of my clothing. He’d stuttered and
stammered, his face turning into a rich shade of beetroot, that he would prefer
me to take my own clothes off down to bra and pants.

Once I had
removed my denims and top, I had looked him in the eye as I did so, giving him
the come on – I wanted him to feel like he was the most important man in the
world - it was him that I wanted. He’d eyed me up and down and I sat down very
close to him. I leaned over him, my lips almost making contact with his, but I
let them linger on his cheek as I grabbed his hand, and with mine guiding it,
we pushed up my bra together.

“Feel my nipple
honey, feel how erect it is.” I encouraged. After tweaking it for a few seconds
I guided his hand downwards over my tummy and down into my pants,

“Stick a couple
of fingers up my pussy, feel how nice it is. After so long without one, enjoy…do
you like that word? Pussy? What turns you on best, what word do you want me to
use for the hole that you are going to fuck?”

He was sweating
profusely, and his hand was shaking in my pubic hair, he looked terrified. I
was longing to be fucked, but I wasn’t feeling too confident with the guy, his
shyness. I knew where it was going to end.

“You are going
to fuck again. I will call it what you want, honey, whatever turns you on -
pussy, fanny, hole …or cunt?”

His enthusiasm
had moved up a gear on hearing the ‘c’ word, his fingers hadn’t needed any
further guidance and he’d shoved them up and down inside. My new role as sex
teacher/trainer was exciting me and I had started to feel a bit damp down
below. I heard the inevitable noises as his fingers had waggled about inside my
hole. I let go of his hand and unzipped his trousers, pushing my hand into his
boxer shorts to pull out his cock. What a shock. His evil bitch of an ex-wife!
His cock was average sized and nothing at all to be ashamed of. But that is all
it took - one move for me to pull out his cock. He had closed his eyes then,
partly in ecstasy. but with a disappointed groan because he’d been so ashamed –
his cum was all over my hand, his boxers and denims.

“Sorry, love.
It’s been…” he apologised.

I’d been right.
I was disappointed myself. Even to have had his cock penetrate my hole for a
couple of minutes would have done it for me…

“Hey, don’t
worry about it. The length of time you’ve gone without, I wouldn’t have been
surprised if you’d unloaded when I got undressed – it sometimes happens.”

I was willing
to accept a reduction in my payment since he never got to fuck me, but he
insisted I take it all. As I put my clothes back on, I needed to make his day,

“Your ex-wife
is one evil cow. There is nothing small about your dick. It is average sized -
most men have average sized dicks. Never be ashamed of it, ever.”

He had such a
look of disbelief on his face, I couldn’t help but smile that I’d been able to
say something encouraging.

“Really? You’re
not kidding me?”

“Crikey, have
you never stood next to other men at the urinals?”

“Yes. But…I’ve
never looked. It doesn’t feel right.”

I laughed. I
don’t make suggestions to my clients when they are ones who have to pay, but he
was the one who suddenly made the suggestion that we should have a few liaisons
close together, to get him used to having sex again, and hopefully, this would
help him control his premature ejaculation. I also hinted that maybe the odd
porn DVD or magazines may help.

The second
session had taken place a week later, and that time he managed to hold back on
his orgasm until he’d got his cock inside of me. Things were slightly improved
again a week later, when he managed to fuck me for at least ten minutes. I had
told him to pull out as soon as he felt too excited, which would hopefully
delay his ejaculation, but without any warning I suddenly felt the twitching of
his cock and it was too late, he shot his lot, and groaned with disappointment,

“I didn’t get
any warning and then it was there.” he’d grumbled.

“You did well.”
I encouraged, “Ten minutes is better than quite a few of my clients can manage,
honestly.”

Determined to
make him go the distance, a few days later, I had packed my faithful suspender
belt and stockings, a vibrator and some ‘delay spray’ into my satchel. The
emphasis had been on plenty of oral, and getting him to use the vibrator on me.
I also used the vibrator, rubbing it up and down his cock, making him familiar
with the sensation and learning how to control his urges when the feelings
became too intense. It worked - he performed well throughout the foreplay and
during copulation we used the delay spray just twice. We bonked for forty four
minutes and it was tiredness getting the better of him, that prompted him to
come, rather than lack of self-control. He lay there afterwards with a beaming
smile on his face, and he was so full of gratitude for my help.

“You’ll be able
to get yourself another wife now,” I was amused by his restored pride in
himself, “but this time find somebody who won’t destroy your confidence and
belittle you at every opportunity. You won’t have any need for me, when you
do.”

He’d found a
girlfriend - a career woman, a newspaper reporter who jetted off for months at
a time leaving his sexual needs unattended to yet again. So the calls had
continued. I didn’t mind, I just took my money at the end of each date. I just
didn’t care for the first half hour or so of our dates now. Every time it was
the same routine, and it was getting rather tedious.]

I was in the
bathroom and almost in my uniform, which included suspenders, stocking tops
just showing beneath the hem of my dress, when his voice called out,

“Bedpan please,
nurse – now.”

“On its way!”

I rolled my
eyes up to the ceiling and played along. He had developed a thing for nurses,
so we had to role play every time for the first half hour. Every time I had to
take his temperature, his blood pressure and go through the horrendous bedpan
bit before commencing the bed bath.

As I soaped and
rinsed his entire body, his hands grabbed at my breasts, his fingers poked into
my knickers. It was done in a feeble manner at first, the manner of a patient
who was tired and not feeling at all well. As he started feeling a bit better,
and after I had given him a spoonful of his magic potion, his fingers were
rammed up my vagina. He sat up and lifted the dress over my head, one-handed.
The dress cast aside, I stepped out of my thong and shifted position for him,
so he could poke around my backside with his finger. I leaned over the bed and
performed fellatio for a few minutes whilst his fingers and hands continued to
grope and probe at my whole body. My breathing was getting heavy and my fanny
was feeling hot and moist, ready to welcome his swollen stick of muscle. He
gave me permission, after ten minutes, to climb aboard and fuck him until I
came. He enthusiastically encouraged and cheered me on as I closed my eyes, my
clit rubbed against him and my early throes of orgasm became evident.

“Go on baby…fuck
it good…let those juices soak my cock…is that nice baby…squeeze my cock with
those fanny muscles. Mmm…that’s feeling good now, cum for me baby…yes…that’s so
nice…yes, you’re there, baby. You’re wetting my dick nicely.”

I shook with
the waves of my coming as he finished urging me. He quickly rolled me off him
and all traces of his fake illness completely gone, leapt off the bed with a
fitness more apt for a ten-year-old, and said urgently,

“Get over the
edge, you need fucking, I need to fuck you. Sweat it out of me!”

I knew the
whole routine well and was in position for him in a flash. He shagged me doggy
style for over what seemed like forever, poking me up the rectum with his
finger. After my earlier orgasm, I wasn’t expecting to cum again but suddenly I
felt the throbs of his cock followed by his explosion of semen and his tool
seemed to be stiffening even more inside me. My vagina had never felt so full
and I came again. My new wetness flowed together with his and trickled down my
thighs. He collapsed onto me, totally spent, and it was five minutes before he
rolled off my back and with the biggest smirk ever, announced “Over an hour –
my record.”

Despite the bed
bath and bonking boredom, I was glad I had been able to help the guy.