Loving Moments for Trish

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Loving Moments for Trish

1

Patricia pretended not to notice him enter the storeroom, those in the orders fulfilment centre of her business working quickly to complete the online shopping lists submitted by customers, the object of her attention then having to drive around town and the surrounding countryside to deliver them all.

She sighed, was dismayed to again feel the twitch in her cheek and that she could not control except by dismissing the cause of a moment’s stress or anxiety. It had become an affliction brought about by the loss of her husband and partner in Tomlinson’s Fayre. It had followed an RTA that had not been Stephen’s fault. A runaway truck, the driver dead at the wheel from a heart attack, had smashed into the delivery van he had been driving. It had turned the van and her man into a tangled mess, she the one who had summoned up the courage to identify his remains, the signet ring on his hand and that she had given him on their wedding day.

Friends held the view that the events of that day had wrought their effects upon her face, that twitch; also the turning grey of her once luxuriant blonde hair. It retained its silken smoothness, but it was now a silver-grey crown; ‘my only glory’ she was often heard to say.

She saw Frankie smile on looking her way, the navy-blue shirt with its white embroidered ‘T’ on the breast pocket fitting him perfectly, a matching cap pushed back jauntily. He was seen to take it off, knowing that she was stickler for maintaining standards of appearance.

He was seen to hold a digital code reader in his hand, would scan all the postcodes into it, those on the lids of the boxes containing orders. The codes would determine the order of his deliveries, the reader linked to the satnav set on the dashboard of the partially refrigerated van he would be driving. Her Frank would have relied on his deep knowledge of the area Tomlinson’s served, had done for nearly twenty years.

Frankie walked towards her, acknowledging the greetings of younger female staff as he passed, knew from previously overheard comments what was being said…both about him and her. Much of it was speculation, did not get right just what a help he was to her, the son of a close friend full of ideas about the business and how to harvest margins. He would be starting a master’s business degree next autumn; so he would be an indispensable part of her business, his year out travels curtailed.

“It looks like it’ll be a late one,’ he said on looking from her down to the gadget in his hand.

‘I’ll still be here…have admin things to sort out. I’ll see you on the cctv monitor…will open the gates and let you in.’

‘Okay,’ he answered on looking around, ‘I’ll try not to be too late.’

‘Your parents will worry…’

‘I’ve told them my plans and that I’ll be late…have done that already, Trish. So, supper can keep, or I’ll grab something on the way back. It shouldn’t be too long…I know the routes well enough by now.’

He had lowered his voice so that he would not be overheard using her favoured name.

‘I could prepare something for you…for both of us?’ she suggested and walking along racks of stock, pretending to be talking of something else. It had been disconcerting to discover that Frankie had become besotted with her, and she was dismayed at how she felt about that.

‘The consignments are ready to go, Patricia!’ they heard called out and turned.

‘Go carefully…call me when you’re on your way back, won’t you?’ she asked of him.

‘I’ll go through the list of ideas you gave me yesterday…I simply haven’t had the time.’

‘They’re not ground breaking, just my take on making things simpler…’

Trish watched him go, was dismayed by what she felt about him and his ways; she a woman about to turn fifty, with grey hair framing an unlined face; a woman who remained dignified, some said, after all that had befallen her. She was a shrewd businesswoman, more astute in those ways than her Stephen had been, but none of that could account for her feelings for the slender faced young man she saw working with others to load the delivery van.

‘He’s so grateful and happy to be helping you out,’ Frankie’s mother and a friend, Sarah Raymond, had told her.

Her response had been only too pleasant but did not get near to describing how she felt; what Frankie aroused in her so at odds with the image others had of her. The love of her life had been cruelly taken from her. She needed the antidote to that pain and had begun to wonder what lay behind those eyes of his; what or who possessed his thoughts when he was out of her sight.

The slender faced young man, nearing six foot tall and strong in his arms couldn’t feel the tug of attraction she felt for him; she a surprisingly agile, broad-hipped and buxom woman; she with her grey hair and thick-rimmed black framed glasses who pored over spreadsheets and order forms; chivvied suppliers and who ran Tomlinson Fayre as güvenilir bahis if there was nothing else in life to pursue and share in, now, could he?

2

The Indy band to be heard on the radio failed to keep his mind off the routes he had to follow to make sure that he got through the deliveries as quickly as he could. His thoughts also turned to Trish, a friend of his mother’ s and a woman who had drifted in and out of his life as often aa his times at university allowed. Now, and working for her and coming up with all sorts of ideas, Trish was in his life and thoughts more than ever.

She would meet his glances and he would see, often enough, what he thought was a distracted look back at him. At university he’d always gone with older students, his fresher’s year seeing him bed several final year girls whom he met in the business faculty and weren’t into long-term hook-ups that would not endure after they graduated.

With Trish, his imagination ran riot. It was aroused by her voluptuous figure and receptive mind to many ideas he was not afraid to give voice to except one, his infatuation with her. She may be fifty or so, but she wasn’t frumpy, had not allowed what had happened with Stephen to wreck her resolve and not make the most of the business she had such a lead role in now.

He lusted after the boss, the woman who filled her blouses and dresses so well that it needed little imagining as to what she’d bring to his sight and touch. In dresses, or slacks and a blouse, and with her fondness for dangly necklaces at her breasts, along with that straight-lipped smile of hers, wistful and even wondering, he could have been reeled in, hooked like a fish that had taken the bait.

Just thinking of her got him hard; provoked him into fingering the front of his jeans before he slowed to a stop at his last delivery address. He’d call her when the job was done and he could say when he would be back at the depot, just as she had asked him to do.

He loved his work, how she gave him scope to suggest ideas and to be with her in the office as new ways of business planning were tried out. He also loved to imagine her sitting on him, her mature fleshiness a turn on, and she rode him; allowed him to see those heavy breasts and touch them, kiss the freckles upon them, suck and tug on what he knew would be large nipples. Trish had failed to keep that from him, in what she wore. The woman was blessed, and he wanted her, either imagined or for real.

‘I sure want to be the one to help her move on….’

The hazard warning lights were switched on as he stepped from the cab. What risks would he be willing to take when he saw her again?

His call to her was soon answered. ‘I won’t be long now, Trish…ten minutes at the most!’

‘Good…supper’s almost ready. Park the van and walk through the back garden. I’ve left the gate unlocked…’

‘I’m not dressed for dinner…am in my work gear,’ he felt obliged to tell her.

‘It’s a lasagna, not haute cuisine,’ she was heard to reply on a soft laugh. There was moment’s pause. ‘You looked okay the last time I saw you, but I had to change…as you’ll soon see. Go carefully, won’t you?’

She had already sipped on a glass of rosé and was onto her second, wondered if the wine had loosened her tongue and prompted her to say things best left until they were together. That too was breaking with past practice, but it was late, gone eight thirty and she felt just a little bit guilty for him working long after the others on the payroll had gone home.

Frankie was young, clever, and no innocent but she knew and felt that the next few hours with him would be about her. She was on the threshold of something that she would not come back from. She had thought about this before, that to take him would be self-indulgent and would be about her.

She was done with grieving but would never forget. She also had a life to lead and wanted to move on. Seducing and finding pleasure with Frankie would be a start.

Frankie took the glass of wine that she held out to him, a soft and wondering look now in her eyes. He sipped tentatively, liked what she had offered, and drank some down in large gulps.

She clutched his arm, saw his eyes widen in surprise at her forwardness.

‘I want to live it all out, do life differently. I need you to take me there, if you’ll agree..?’ She smiled. ‘Don’t look so shocked, and it’s not the drink that’s made me talk to you like this…I’ve seen how you’ve worked for me…also…also the look of your eyes on me. I’ve wondered why that could be?’

‘Was it so obvious that I wanted you…felt more than a boyhood crush on you…that I looked at you and wondered what to do about what I felt? There were times when you looked so lost…’

‘I felt that way, only too often, but I had the business to occupy my mind too,’ she answered clutching his arm and pressing against him. ‘I’ve changed into something else…’

He pouted güvenilir bahis siteleri a smile, gave her a wondering look. Trish poured some more wine into his glass. ‘So I see, and it falters you.’

‘I’m ahead of you in this,’ she told him, soon clutching his arm once more.

‘In everything it seems,’ he grinned, reaching out and easing away her glasses. ‘I rarely, never, see you without them…’

He had felt Trish shiver at his touch. Her choice of a purple jersey wrap blouse, fastened at the waist in a loose knot, failed to conceal Trish’s deep cleavage, the tumble of her breasts that he now saw shaped as never before, the sight of them inflaming the senses. It seemed a deliberate act and that her soft smile, as she met his glance upon her, seemed to assure him was so. Her slacks shaped her hips and thighs. She clutched his hand as it caressed her bum, drawing her to him.

‘I wondered on it all…and about you,’ he confessed his mouth close to her parted lips and his eyes meeting her stare.

‘Wonder no more…’ she said, submitting to his soft, seducing kiss, felt him hold his glass away so as not spill any wine on her. Trish took it from him.

‘Supper can wait…there’s something we need to settle, isn’t there?’

Trish gripped his arms as his hands cupped her face and he leant in to kiss her, relented in his hold as she rose to embrace him, her arms about his neck and her mouth opening to meet his deepening kisses, the first touch of his hands to the soft jersey fabric that shaped her breasts so enticingly, his caresses arousing a rush of errant longing.

‘Yes, I want you…really want you,’ he groaned as she clamped a hand on his straining prick, to the fabric of his jeans. She felt him kick off his shoes. She son held his head to her breasts, shivered on feeling his warm breaths to her skin as he loosened the knot at her waist. His hands were on her.

‘And I want to get lost in this with you…now be with me.’

3

Trish led him up the stairs, swayed her hips suggestively, her wrap hanging loose and his hands on her whenever she was persuaded to stop and to languish in his embrace. It felt that his eyes seemed to burn into her, that she was being undressed, that he would be wondering how to deal with her fleshy body, what she would seek of him in moments of submission and then discovery.

Outside her bedroom his smooth, warm, hands drew her against him, cupped her breasts and she half-turned to meet his kisses, his tongue snaking and darting into her mouth. They soon French-kissed wildly, Trish pushing from her mind her reckless abandon and submission to her instincts. She yearned for an end to two years of restraint.

She felt the clammy heat between her legs, her denial of a man’s touches and claims on her body now making her shiver, to quell te rush to an orgasm aroused by thoughts of them, the press of his prick against her and her rhythmic clamps upon it.

She sucked on his tongue, mimicked the act of loving, then broke their kisses, breathing heavily. ‘Oh, this is so wonderfully crazy!’

He said nothing and plunged his tongue back into her mouth, gripped her buttocks and ground against her, moved to stand between her parted legs and rocked forward and back. He met her kisses, the flurry of them as she ran her hands up and down his back, through his hair as she pulled on his head to deepen their kisses, gripped his hips as he bumped against her.

‘Say something…anything!’ she kissed.

He laughed against her parted lips, broke free and looked her in the eyes, leant in again to kiss each in turn. ‘Really…anything?’

‘Yes….anything!’

‘I’ve wanted to fuck you for a very long time…’

She rushed away from him, tearing at her clothes. ‘Now’s your chance!’

4

She stood before him in her fleshy nakedness, smoothed her fingers over her shaven mound, the slit to her pussy marked by a thin band of golden-brown hair.

Trish sank to her knees before him, tugged at his belt and then pulled down his jeans; felt him move to strip off his shirt. It fell to the floor of the bedroom, and she pressed her face to the bulge in his briefs before she gripped the waistband and tugged them down over his thighs, his erect penis springing free after being trapped. She buried her face to him before slicking kisses to his skin. It trembled, arced from his belly, his state of arousal and the aroma of pre-cum, at its tip, exciting her.

‘You’re…you’re ready, Frankie…you…you wonder,’ she kissed, then put the tip of his penis in her mouth, circled her tongue around it; worked his sac and felt him push against her face.

He couldn’t believe who she had become, a lustful woman who seemed so in control, but now acted brazenly and hungrily, feasted on his prick after what he knew was a long time of denial and loneliness.

‘You’ve gotten to me…so go on!’

Frankie placed his hands in her hair, then guided her in the iddaa siteleri claims being made on him. Trish bobbed her head up and down and, coming up for air, looked up at him.

She met Frankie’s hooded stare. She was working an employee, behaving like a lover, sucking and licking his shaft and kneading his balls, her actions making him groan.

‘Trish…Trish!’ he gasped on feeling his penis tip at the back of her throat, the slow slide of her lips and scrape of her teeth over his skin until he sprang free once more.

He leant forward to kiss her, groped for the tumble of her breasts and squeezed on them hard.

She snorted in pain and pleasure as he kissed her, kept his hands to her skin. ‘On the bed…finish this on the bed!’

She scrambled away, felt him kneel behind her and she pressed back against his penis, felt his hands coax her to open the way to him as his fingers worked her, pressed into her body then caressed her pussy’s lips.

‘My way now!’ he commanded. She had deep throated him until he could bear it no longer. He wanted to lose himself in her voluptuous body, to feel her heat and have her tug on him. First he’d plug her in these ways of it.

‘Don’t wait…don’t tease me!’

He rocked and swayed, circled his hips to stretch her as he entered, felt Trish grip his hands as he clamped them to her drooping breasts. She was impaled on him, pushed back for a moment against his thighs before he rose and she was made to kneel in submission, lost control of what he sought to do.

She sucked in deep breaths, her emotions raging as she was claimed by the first man since her Stephen had gone; Frankie’s movements more urgent and she conceding to wayward waves of pleasure.

‘Let it all go…if you have to!’

‘No!’

‘Then please me in other ways…we’re far from finished.’

She lay back on the bed and met his kisses and caresses, tugged on his hair to bring his face down to her pussy. He needed no encouragement, probed into her with his tongue, used his fingers to part her pussy lips and they claimed her. She writhed; marvelled at his confident ways.

She climaxed as his lips tugged on her pussy lips, actions followed by the tempest of flickering sensations brought on by his tongue. She tugged on his hair, made Frankie look into her eyes.

‘Where did you learn all of that!’

‘What this…do you mean this?’ She seemed to be putty in his hands. They pushed her thighs further apart before his keen, questing, fingers rubbed firmly against the front wall of her vagina. They caressed until she bucked her hips off the bed to meet them, felt his touches to her g-spot and she was overwhelmed by another glorious orgasm that coursed through her shaking body, it seemed from head to toe, her breaths catching in her throat as she arched her back, reached out and clamped his neck.

‘Do…do you want me to use a condom?’

She shook her head in denial, wanted so badly to be plumbed and feel her young lover’s meat reach deep into her body. She gasped, stifled her cries against his chest as Frankie leaned over her and she felt him enter, push between her pussy lips as she was stretched and finally welcomed him.

‘Go on…go on, don’t stop…not now!’ He had teased her, slowed down and then stopped, moved so slowly that she felt his girth, how his hips caressed her. Frankie then slammed home in one long and sharp thrust.

‘Frankie!’ she screamed, tearing her mouth away from his kisses as a virile young man began to ride her faster and faster, bucked his hips and thrusted into her body, pounded her mercilessly and she caressing his legs with her fleshy thighs, sank her fingers into his lean buttocks and pulled him down into her.

His breaths of effort were harsh on her face, her throat and shoulders.

‘What are we doing…tell me!’

‘We’re fucking…we’re loving and we’re doing it all…together! Frankie…Frankie!’

She felt on fire and felt her orgasm approach in drugging waves, her words of encouragement obscene as he battered and rammed into her body and she flailed her arms and legs to keep him close, to drag on his plugging penis with her failing strength. Could she really succumb to an orgasm so ragingly different from all that had gone before? Her slicked haven began to pulse and tighten around his thrusting young cock.

She embraced his heaving body, felt the sweat on their skins as he shuddered. Frankie ejaculated, let loose bolts of his semen into her body, his breaths sharp and quick, his body jerking. She could only cling to him, stifled her gasps of pleasure and avowal for what had been shared, her pussy aching and she able to feel some of his sperm leak onto her aching thighs.

‘Yes, I’m still there…in you,’ he kissed on feeling her fingers brush his belly and poke the base of his shaft.

‘Stay there, don’t move…please don’t Frankie,’ she murmured as she felt their shared orgasms subside, his penis losing its rigor and length. ‘You’ve brought me loving moments…forgive me if I didn’t do more for you.’

‘There will be other times…I hope?’

‘Yes…somehow we will be together while you want me and are with me at work. I…I know that I can’t keep you for long…’

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