From Blushes 47
‘What’s her name?’ Stanley asked his friend Ben Rancord indicating the girl with glasses in a white top. Ben said, ‘Susan Linley. They’re new. Her and her husband.’
‘I can see she’s new,’ Stanley said. ‘I would have noticed those tits before, wouldn’t I? Not a bad looker either. But look at those tits. Amazing objects if they’re real.’
Ben laughed. ‘I know what you mean. A very well-built young lady. Nice to get your hands on, eh Stan?’
They were at Ben’s house for the start of the regular Sunday morning ramble. The Harling and District Rambling Association as it was grandly named of which Ben Rancord was Secretary and leading enthusiast. Stanley Norbury, also quite keen and Branch Manager of the local Mid West Bank, was Treasurer. Both were in their fifties as likewise were most of the club members. So something like this new Mrs Linley was bound to stand out. She could only be mid-twenties at most: a pretty brunette with glasses and this really stunning shape in white top and shorts. What particularly stood out — in the eyes of Stan Norbury and Ben Rancord at least — was that top. Sticking impressively out. How big were those things?’
‘I better introduce you,’ said Ben. ‘And don’t goggle at them. Don’t embarrass the lady. We don’t want to frighten her off by making it seem the club is full of Dirty Old Men. Even if it is.’
Susan Amazing-Tits-Linley gave Stanley a charming smile. It seemed they had just moved to the town. A new neighbour had mentioned the rambling club and she had phoned Mr Rancord. ‘And so here we are.’ The voice was pleasantly Home Counties. ‘I’m very keen on walking. I’ve even been thinking of orienteering. If I could get fit enough!’
Amazing, Stanley marvelled. Truly amazing. He was looking rather than listening. The tits. Could they be 38 inches? He could make out the lines of a bra under that top and he permitted himself for a moment to imagine these glands without a bra. Free to sway and jiggle unconstrained in that thin white top. It could drive a man out of his mind. The rest of her was good too: ripe-looking hips and bottom in the shorts which showed an extensive length of bare thigh; and the pertly pretty face with the large and somehow intriguing glasses. It seemed to Stanley that the glasses made her more sexy-looking, rather than the reverse; as if a girl with glasses shouldn’t have great big tits like this and if she did she was going to be sexy, going to be prepared to let an agreeable chap like Stanley Norbury get his hands on them. Let them pull up this top and unfasten that bra…
Stanley forced his mind out of this track. He was getting a hard-on for one thing. ‘Orienteering? Ah yes, you need to be fit for that.’ He grinned, forcing his gaze to the glasses and not the tits. ‘Well I’m sure we can get you fit! Stanley could think of marvellous ways of getting her fit. For instance… No. Stop those thoughts!
The husband of this striking lady was called Dave but being himself without splendidly big tits or a ripely rounded bum in tight shorts (or indeed sexy glasses) was not to Stanley of any great interest. Except of course that being the spouse of this young lady he had legal claims on those stunning tits. Free to do what he liked with them whenever the fancy took him. Just think of that…
‘Dave’s not all that keen,’ said the sexy lady. ‘I had to drag him out this morning.’ Her husband grinned good-naturedly, not denying this statement. He was a similar age to his wife, in long trousers like most of the men; only Ben Rancord and one other were in shorts and sporting hairy knees. The woman were mostly in tweedy shapeless skirts — perhaps just as well having regard to their shapes. In this company the new female recruit stood out like a rose in a cabbage patch.
They set off, in twos and threes, down the lane and out into the country. It was a lovely spring morning, the sort of day when a young man’s fancy turns to thoughts of a bit of the other. As for older, more mature gentlemen… well Stanley Norbury positioned himself to the immediate rear of the new lady. You were not going to get much of a view of tits whilst walking but a lady’s bottom was something else — if you were immediately to the rear of it. Especially if it was clad in tightish and quite thin shorts. Watching the marvellous buttocks working, tightening and relaxing, rolling rhythmically to left and right, like a well-honed, well-oiled piece of machinery of Rolls-Royce quality, Stanley could believe that this bottom was quite the equal of the stunning tits. And he could picture himself yanking these shorts down — together with the knickers (he could discern the indentation of knicker hems) underneath. Yanking them down and bending her over and having a nice cut at these ripely rounded cheeks with a whippy cane. Fantastic!
The group paused a bit later for a break and to admire the scenery, which meant that for Stanley there was the much more important scenery of this lady’s front, her tits, to be admired again. ‘Isn’t it heavenly out here,’ she breathed to Stanley. And then, ‘I believe you’re the manager of the bank, Mr Norbury. The Mid West.’
‘I’m Stanley,’ said Stanley. ‘Call me Stanley. Yes. I must admit it.’
‘The thing is…’ began the marvellously-titted Mrs Linley.
A boutique. She wanted to open a boutique. And of course required some capital. As one does for such a venture. A loan in fact. Young Mrs Amazing-Tits-Not-To-Mention-Her Gorgeous-Bottom-Linley was in need of a loan. A bank loan. The Branch Manager of the Mid Week Bank had an erection on the spot. As now they continued the walk, their leader Ben Rancord having got them all going again.(‘We mustn’t dawdle!’)
An erection is not a convenient thing when vigorously walking. It chafes against the trousers and quite possibly can be a hazard in a mature man, diverting the blood supply away from the legs where it is needed. But of course if a man gets an erection there is not a lot he can do about it. Except hope it will go away. But it will not, there is no chance, not whilst this gorgeous creature is telling about her need of a bank loan and you as the bank manager are in a position to satisfy that need. And in satisfying the need, well surely these tits… this bottom… can be made accessible. Visions that have floated into Stanley Norbury’s head will certainly not for the moment allow any reduction of that blood supply which is vigorously pumping into his erect member.
He manages to find words. ‘We could certainly discuss it. Yes certainly.’ Cautiously he adds, ‘Though funds are a little tight at present.’ Like the front of Stanley Norbury’s trousers.
Stanley and Mrs Tits are now somehow at the end of the stretched-out crocodile of walkers. Mr Rancord is still no doubt out in front pressing on but others are possibly less motivated or, equally possibly, less fit. Dave is somewhat ahead walking with one of the ladies. With everyone ahead it would be quite possible, Stanley thinks, to discuss this matter right here. Slipping into this woodland here. The matter of the tits — the loan, that is —could very quickly be gone into. A preliminary reconnoitre. On reflection, though, that would be perhaps a trifle precipitate. After all he has only set eyes on this marvellous lady less than an hour ago. No. He can wait. Can’t he? Stanley is not really too sure that he can. Yes, of course he can. Until tomorrow. Monday. At the bank, his office. Yes Stanley believes he can fit an appointment in — amongst all his pressing duties. If that is convenient for the loan requirer.
It gets a dazzling smile. ‘Oh yes, Mr Norbury. Stanley.’
She is wearing a smart navy-blue suit today. The skirt conceals those marvellous thighs and the tits are more discreetly covered too but the suit nonetheless suggests what is underneath. Stanley briefly thinks how nice it would be if there was nothing underneath. Perhaps he should have said that. Wear a suit with nothing underneath, then we can talk business. No. Concentrate. He closes the door behind her. Stanley has decided how to proceed. It is to be what might be called the full-frontal opening. Boldness. He does it. He places one hand firmly on the front of the suit jacket. On one of those tits in fact. Palming it. ‘You’ve got a lovely figure, Susan.’ The words to back up his bold action come out a bit croaky but they come out.
The eyes behind the glasses dart to the door. Otherwise, though, she makes no move. No move to push Stanley’s hand away. Standing still. ‘Is anyone going to come in?’ she enquires tremulously.
‘No,’ Stanley says, mounding the marvellous tit and with immediately the front of his (suit) trousers under the same strain that his casual ones were yesterday. His left hand takes hold of the other mammary. ‘Fantastic!’ he breathes.
Mrs Linley says, ‘I think they’re too big. I’d like to be smaller. Have smaller ones.’
‘Oh no.’ Stanley’s excited fingers are unbuttoning now. This is slightly unbelievable. ‘Someone will come in,’ she says again. But does not attempt to stop Stanley’s fumbling fingers. ‘No!’ he repeats. But even if someone does Stanley can’t stop himself. He has to. The jacket is open. Jesus. No bra. Merely a sort of slip. Soft but firm flesh. Burgeoning. The nipples are big, thrusting.
‘That door.’ The glasses are directed towards it again. ‘I’ll lock it,’ says Stanley who half-thinks he is going to faint. He does so (locks the door, that is). Calm down and keep control, he tells himself. Turning back to this unbelievable lady. ‘Orienteering,’ he says. ‘Are you really into that?’
‘No,’ Shaking her brunette head. ‘No. It was… just something to say. It’s the boutique…’
‘Take the suit off.’ The words come out, Stanley hasn’t really meant to say that although of course it was the thought in his head. The glasses look at him and then at the door. A nervous chew at her lower red lip… and she is doing it… Jesus. No, Stanley can’t believe this.
In her pale-blue slip now, through which Stanley can see the big boobs, the big nipples. Greedily he grabs her. Warm vibrant flesh. ‘Knickers,’ he mouths. ‘Have you got knickers on?’ Well there is no bra… but he can feel knickers now. His feverish hands can feel them. Brief and scanty on her ripe bottom. ‘Take them off,’ he instructs.
And unbelievably she does it. Slides the brief pale-blue knickers down from under the slip. Leaning against him as she does it, she says, ‘I’m going to get a loan…’
Yes of course she is going to get a loan. And something else to go with it. Stanley can’t believe this but at the same time he knows it is happening. He is not dreaming this, it is happening. He is sitting in his leather chair with his trousers down. Somehow in spite of the state he is in, the turmoil in his head, he can remember that the bank manager cannot appear from his office with perhaps his trousers in a state. So they are down. As Mrs Amazing-Tits-And-Everything-Else-Linley sits astride his lap. In just her pale-blue slip. Which is up round her waist. And Stanley, his member, bigger it seems than it has ever been before, is up inside Mrs Linley. Up inside Mrs Amazing-Screw-Linley who is sliding up and down, flexing those marvellous thigh muscles.
‘Did you get the loan?’ Dave asked when he got home. ‘Did he come round, that Mr Norbury?’
‘Oh yes,’ Susan smiled.
Dave kissed her, rubbing his hand over his wife’s bottom. ‘Did you screw him — or is that for later?’
Susan made a face and pinched his ann. ‘Don’t be cheeky. Anyway it’s none of your business. Actually — he’s going to take me out orienteering.’
‘Yes… I… I said yesterday I was thinking of trying it. I don’t know why I said it. Anyway Mr Norbury — Stanley — is going to take me out. Training. And he says… I’ve got to wear just a top and running shorts. No underwear.’ A pause. ‘He says he’s going to bring a cane.’
‘Yes. To cane me, silly. He says he’s going to train me really hard and if he thinks I need it he’s going to cane my bottom. He’s going to take the shorts down and cane my bare bottom. Christ. Why did I mention bloody orienteering?’
‘You don’t have to agree,’ said Dave. ‘Or I suppose you do if you want that loan. Still I expect you’ll like it. A turn-on.’
‘I won’t like it. I’ll hate it. The cane on my bare bottom. Bent over a fence he said with my shorts down.’ Susan gave a shudder of fright. Or could it be excitement?
‘Well you don’t have to go,’ Dave said again. He squeezed her. ‘Come on. Tell me if he did you. I bet he did.’
Susan shook her head. Dave couldn’t decide if he thought Mr Norbury had screwed Susan or not. This other thing though. He felt a tingle of excitement thinking about it. He said, ‘Maybe I’ll come along. I could hold you while he does it. The caning.’Susan gave a shriek and grabbed at him.