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This tale is a continuation of “Substitute for Dad” and goes back to the good old 1980’s in the glorious days before the proliferation of mobile phones, the Internet and always on communication.
I had not long turned twenty-one years old and it was my first week as the on-call technical specialist. The week had been quiet until the previous evening, typically a Friday before the spring bank holiday. I had been halfway home when I was paged and had to return to the office. A power failure had crashed the computer systems and although the power was back by the time I walked in, it had taken me until 1:00 am to fix the chaos left behind. My senior colleague, Dave, had been next to useless as although onsite at the time he was “completely wankered” as he had been at the local pub all afternoon and had only gone back to the office to pick up his coat and briefcase and to call a taxi. I just left him head down on his desk for most of the time until a security guard called to tell me our technical manager was on his way up to help handle the crisis. I managed to drag Dave to the men’s toilet, push him into a cubicle and persuade him to be quiet until I got rid of the dopey twat of a manager.
Luckily our much ‘disrespected’ manager just wanted to make sure his name was included in the major incident report that he insisted was completed before I left site. I almost forgot about Dave when I was reminded by the appearance of a trainee programmer called Jessica who was equally inebriated and demanding to know where the ‘dag’ was as he owed her a drink. Absentmindedly I told her he was in the toilets and went back to the report I was writing.
Just as I finished the report a security guard rang to ask if I had seen a young woman wandering about as her friend had just turned up demanding to see her. I said I would find her and bring her down as I was about to leave anyway. First port of call was the men’s toilet partly to find Dave but mainly to have a pee before I drove home. As I pushed open the main door I could hear muffled talking coming from the cubicle I had left Dave in earlier. A pair of ankle boot clad feet stuck out from the cubicle doorway then Jessica’s voice rang out, “Told you I could do it!”
I purposely banged the outer door and called, “Are you still in here Dave?”
The sounds of frantic rustling and a cubicle door rattled before Dave replied, “Yes, I dozed off. I’ll be out in a sec!”
I walked over to a urinal and began to take a long piss then said, “Everything is back up and working. The security guards are getting a bit pissed off with all the drunken people onsite.”
“I’m going home anyway,” came Dave’s reply accompanied by the sound of flushing water.
I shook off, zipped up and washed my hands as Dave emerged from his cubicle. He staggered a bit and struggled to wash his hands. I was about to ask if he was okay to get home when there was a splashing sound from the end cubicle (locally known as trap six) and Jessica’s voice echoed, “Aw fuck me!”
Pushing open the cubicle door I found Jessica slumped on the floor with one foot in the toilet bowl. Being a gentleman I burst out laughing before she shouted at me, “Quit laughing and help me get up you pommie bastard!”
As I pulled her to her feet a half-bottle of scotch slipped from her coat pocket which I managed to grab before it hit the floor. Saving the bottle made me lose grip of Jessica so she fell against me making my free hand slide up from her waist to her chest. My hand lingered on her unfettered left breast as she pulled herself to a standing position.
“Have you finished sizing up my tit, mate?” she asked, “Or do you want to check the other one?”
“Sorry, darling,” I replied releasing her small but perky breast, “I was just trying to help.”
“I’m not your darling,” Jessica slurred with venom, “And if you want to cop a feel again just ask first!”
“I’ll remember that,” I said with a grin, “Here’s your bottle and your friend is downstairs with security waiting for you!”
Jessica shook her soggy foot, swore under her breath and tried to take a step. She winced with pain exclaiming, “Aw fuck I think I’ve busted my ankle!”
Dave began drunkenly giggling at Jessica’s plight which only made her angrier, “Shut the fuck up, you dags and help me get downstairs!”
She held on to my arm limping as we followed the weaving figure of Dave out of the men’s toilet to the lift. I leant Jessica against the wall and pressed the call button, “Hold the lift for me while I get my keys and jacket,” I said and dashed back to my desk.
Just as I came back into the lobby I saw the lift doors close so I took the stairs the four floors down to the main entrance. I emerged from the stairwell to find Jessica, her friend and Dave arguing with the security guard. They were trying to persuade him to phone for a taxi but he was adamant that they should leave the premises and walk to the local cab office or he would canlı bahis call the police. Luckily I knew him from my time on shift and managed to calm him down by suggesting I could give them a lift home.
Jessica introduced her friend as Heather, who apparently worked for the company out of a different office. I was half expecting Heather to have an Aussie accent too but she slurred her thanks for the lift with a distinct Surrey plumy twang. Leading them to the car park I had to support Jessica as Dave and Heather struggled to keep each other upright. Jessica seemed to be calmer and even pulled closer to me wrapping her arm around my waist; I kept my hand between her hips and chest just in case she thought I was trying to grope her. She was tall for a woman (almost my height in her heels and I stand at 6′ 2″) and slim with long limbs. Heather by contrast was average height with a shapely figure and what at first glance seemed heavy breasts and a nice rounded bum. Both women seemed to favour the bohemian styles of the eighties feminist although I suspected Heather need to wear a bra under the mannish style clothes.
Jessica climbed into the back of the car behind the driver’s seat with Heather getting in beside her. Dave struggled to get into the front passenger seat and I had to help him put his seat belt on. The alcohol fumes from all three of them forced me to open the driver’s window to keep some fresh air circulating. When I asked who I was dropping off first it started a debate about who lived closest, in the end I opted to drop the women off first and then take Dave home. I had a fairly good knowledge of the area their rented house was in so headed off without needing directions.
Fifteen minutes into the journey Dave had fallen silent and the two women were talking in hushed tones passing the bottle of scotch between them. I hoped none of my motley crew of passengers was going to be ill but as we pulled up at a set of traffic lights Dave hiccupped and reached for the door handle managing to open it just in time to throw up at the kerb. I pulled the car onto the kerb to let other cars pass and put the hazard lights on as I got out making sure Dave didn’t fall out. Unfortunately two patrolling coppers a Sergeant and a WPC strolled over to check what was happening and give me a hard time for parking so close to a traffic light.
When they saw Dave they then decided to breathalyse me even though I honestly denied I had been drinking. Typically both coppers were annoyed I passed the test with not a trace of alcohol so they gave me a ticking off for where I had parked, letting Dave throw up in the gutter, having two now extremely pissed women in the back who weren’t wearing seatbelts (although at the time not illegal) they gave me the run-down of all the dangers of death and destruction in the event of a crash. By the time they had finished the lecture Dave had finished emptying the contents of his stomach and had dropped off to sleep. So reluctantly they said I could go but not before insisting I swill Dave’s vomit through the gutter. I always carried a bottle of water as the car radiator had a habit of boiling over when you least expected so I was able to comply.
The WPC asked if I had any questions before she let me go so I asked her for her telephone number on the off chance she was available. She blushed then refused saying she was already engaged and then the sergeant corrected her saying she was also on duty. Just before I got back in the car the sergeant poked his head in the car to ensure the women buckled their seat belts the WPC whispered, “I sometimes go to the Duke of Wellington in Forest Gate when I’m not on duty.”
I smiled, “Oh I know it, I go there sometimes on Saturdays after playing Rugby,” I replied softly.
“I’m off-duty next Saturday,” she said quietly just as the sergeant stood up.
“You need to get those two home son before they throw-up like your mate,” he said, “Oh , and keep you window open or you will be pissed on the fumes.”
Finally back on the road I heard rustling in the back and glanced back to see Heather slip off her seat-belt and lean over Jessica. I nearly missed the slip road as I watched Heather begin kissing Jessica full on the mouth and squeezing her right breast. Jessica seemed to be responding and doing a bit of breast groping too. I felt my cock begin to bulge and wriggled in the seat to ease the constraint, checking that Dave was still passed out. All I needed was him to see me with a raging hard-on poking through my trousers.
Dave was in his forties and lived with his ‘partner’ Derek; although not fashionable at the time he had come out as gay to most of his colleagues and mainly due to his increasingly over the top behaviour was known behind his back at work as “Camp David”. He had often joked with me when he had consumed a few drinks that he would like to take me home and share my young, muscled body with Derek. Now his comments would be construed as work place bullying but bahis siteleri I just laughed it off and told him he would have to keep on dreaming. He had assured me that he would do more than dream generally accompanied by a crude gesture. No one in the office had met Derek but from the way Dave described their relationship it would appear that Derek was the dominant one.
I negotiated the roundabout at the end of the slip road and looked up to see Heather drop her mouth to Jessica’s chest and appear to be sucking her left nipple through the material of her blouse. My cock stiffened further and I had to look away to concentrate on the road. The girls turning loomed up and as I turned into their road I asked loudly, “Which number was it Jessica?”
“Number 72,” she replied slightly breathlessly and I heard rustling from the backseat as the two women broke their clinch and sat up straight.
The road was typical of suburban London and crowded with parked cars so I slowly drove along looking for the right door. I found a parking spot just a few doors down from their house and pulled in as Dave woke up looking confused as to where we was. Nobody seemed to move until I got out first surreptitiously adjusting my softening erection to be less noticeable. Heather managed to get out unaided and began walking to the house as Dave got out and followed. Jessica hesitated as her ankle had swollen up on the way back and she felt pain as she tried to climb out of the car. I held the door open for her and offered my hand to help.
“I suppose you want to cop another crafty feel?” Jessica slurred grabbing my hand and pulling herself upright.
“Only with permission,” I replied adding, “Darling!” to the end of the sentence.
“I told you I’m not your darling,” she responded but with less venom than before, “Now help me to get indoors.”
“Better than that,” I said and scooped her up and began to carry her to the door expecting some sort of protest but she actually snuggled closer and wrapped her arms around my neck pressing her breasts into my chest. I could feel her small, hard nipples poking through her blouse and felt my erection flutter back to life as fresh blood surged into it.
Reaching the door I carefully lowered Jessica so she could stand supported by the doorframe. She held on to my neck and pulled my head to hers.
“Are you coming in?” she asked breathing whisky fumes at me, “I’m sure I can find a warm place for you.”
“Not tonight, I’ve got to get home,” I said, “Maybe another time?”
“Ah, so is the little boy going home to his mummy?” Jessica asked teasingly.
“Yes,” I replied, “Anyway I think you need to sleep off the booze!”
“Strewth, you’re the first bastard I’ve met to refuse an open invite to my bed,” she said, “I bet your mummy won’t soothe that snake in your strides!”
Dropping a hand from my neck she brushed her fingers along the outline of my stiff member making it twitch.
“Your loss,” she suddenly said and pulled away, “Off you go home to mummy, maybe she will kiss it goodnight when she tucks you in!”
“I had better get Dave back to the car,” I said not bothering to respond to her jibes.
“Don’t bother he can crash here tonight,” Jessica laughed, “Old Camp David won’t bother us girls in the night!”
“You can continue to bother each other!” I said before realising I shouldn’t have said it out loud.
“So you were watching,” said Jessica with a smirk on her face, “Heather always promises a lot when she’s had a few drinks but always backs down at the last minute. But I’ll bed her properly one day,” she continued absently.
“Good luck, I’ll see you in the office on Monday,” I replied lamely and headed back to the car readjusting my trouser crotch as I went.
“See you next Tuesday, Monday is a bank holiday!” Jessica corrected before closing the door.
The drive home was uneventful but my erection still had not fully subsided as I crept into my bedroom just after 3 am trying not to wake the rest of the household. I stripped off in the dark finally releasing my cock from its constraints with a relieved sigh. I instinctively stroked it as I began to turn back the bedcovers when I heard a faint moaning noise. Standing still I massaged my cock and listened closely. I heard the whimpering sound again and recognised my mother’s voice.
Not thinking I eased opened my bedroom door, stark naked with erection in hand, crept over to my mother’s room as quietly as I could. Her door was ajar so I put my head around to check she was not in pain. In the gloom I could make out her sleeping form lying on her side facing away from me her cotton nightdress hitched up to her waist. My mother’s hands appeared to be buried between her legs and her moans seemed to be produced by the fact she was masturbating in her sleep.
“Hmm, baby push it into me,” she murmured to her imaginary lover as her hands moved rhythmically. Her hips began rocking gently against bahis şirketleri the movement of her hands and her breathing laboured.
She rolled onto her back and panted, “That’s it baby boy, fuck your mummy hard!”
Her hands moved over her pubic area as she dreamt and her legs opened. I slipped into the bedroom and carefully pushed the door closed behind me. Prick still throbbing in my hand I crossed to her bed and slowly eased myself onto the bed besides her being careful not to wake her. Before I could lie down her body stiffened and a low guttural noise came from her mouth. Her hips bucked against her hands a couple of times then her body went limp and her eyes opened as if in shock.
She seemed to look straight through me then reached up and pulled my head to her face and pressed her lips to mine. We kissed gently for a few moments before she properly came to.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Mum said while still holding on to my neck.
“You were calling out in your sleep,” I replied, “So I wanted to be sure you were okay!”
Mum snuggled closer pressing her body against my stiff member eliciting a moan from her lips. She pulled me tight trapping my throbbing cock against her stomach then began to rock her hips to and fro. I groaned softly as her movements massaged my cock between our bodies. Reaching down and clasped her bum and eased her higher so my cock pressed against her pubic bone.
“God, yes,” she exclaimed and moved faster.
The moist lips of her pussy moulded around the shaft of my cock, sliding up and down it to the rhythm of hip movements. We were both moaning softly as the sexual tension increased.
“I want to fuck you Mum!” I groaned.
“Oh baby you can’t,” she murmured, “Please just let me make you come!”
“Don’t you want me inside you?” I persisted.
“Yes, baby but we promised your Dad,” she replied with frustration in her voice. Nearly three years before we had been proper lovers, with Dad’s consent, but when Dad’s health returned he resumed his role as the dominant male in the family. He had recently been ill again but had not allowed Mum to get temporary relief from me again.
Mum’s body began shaking and she pressed her mouth into my neck to stifle a scream of pleasure. Her hip movements stopped so I started pushing my cock into her pubic mound not letting her orgasm subside trying to get my own release. Mum’s moaning got louder despite her mouth being buried harder into my neck.
“Please stop, I can take it,” she breathed heavily, “It’s too nice!”
My balls clenched before I could reply and a surge of spunk rushed through my cock spraying both of our bellies with warm fluid. We both shuddered with the aftershock of our orgasms and entwined our bodies tighter. Suddenly fatigue set in and we drifted off to a contented sleep.
Sometime later I woke with a start as Mum used the hem of her nightdress to mop up the now cold remnants of my seminal fluid. She was smiling as she sat up briefly to strip off the soggy nightdress leaving both of us naked. Settling back into my arms she pulled the bedcovers over us and brushed my chest with her lips.
“It feels so good to have you in my bed,” Mum murmured.
“Do you want me to persuade Dad to let me make love to you properly again?” I asked.
“No baby boy,” she replied, “I need to ask him. I’ll speak to him in the morning before we go to the hospital again.”
“He is going back to hospital, so soon?” I asked as he had only been out for two weeks.
“Yes they called yesterday for further tests,” she replied thoughtfully, “I think he believes they will sort out his prostate problem this time.”
“Do you want me to drive you there?” I asked, “I’ll cancel my rugby match.”
“Oh I was going to tell you in the morning that your captain called to say the game was called off,” she replied, “So you could take us to the hospital.”
“Now get some sleep,” she added.
“In a moment,” I responded as I slid my hand over her stomach and pressed my fingers over her pubic mound.
“No more baby boy,” she protested then rocked her hips up to meet my hand as she grasped my reawakening cock.
Pressing her mouth to mine she acquiesced to letting me bring her to a final orgasm as I came over her thigh. Her soggy nightdress mopped up our spillage once again before we drifted off to sleep.
The strains of Bill Withers Lovely Day drifted into my head as Mum’s radio alarm switched on and she twisted in my arms to hit the off button. I felt her lips brush mine as she gently shook me awake.
“Baby boy,” she whispered, “You need to go to your own room, and I have to get your sisters up to go to work!”
Opening my eyes I slid a hand over her left breast squeezing gently and feeling her nipple harden in response.
“I want to make you feel nice first,” I murmured drowsily.
“We can’t, maybe later,” Mum whispered, “After we drop Dad off, if he agrees you can make me feel wonderful!”
She kissed me hard on the lips and then levered herself up to a sitting position. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed she groaned as her foot touched her still damp nightdress.
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