A Legal Matter, Baby!

My firm was about to undergo a major change. Not only were we merging (OK, taking over) another business but we were changing our legal status from a partnership to a legal corporation. As much as I baulked at the idea, we had no option. We had to call in …. the lawyers!

I jest …. The firm we were using had served our business well over the years and we had reciprocated by supplying them with assistance over the years. We were an important client of theirs, so it was only natural that the senior partner made time to see me. 

I explained our various requirements … a fairly complicated set of legal procedures and timing was of the essence.  When I had set it all out, he asked me if he could delegate some of the work to someone who he described as their “rising star” … a recently qualified lawyer for whom they had great hopes. I had no problem with that, so he called Yvonne into the room

She was a lovely young thing. A little plump (more baby fat, really), a little geeky, a girl who didn’t pay a great deal of heed to the fashion mores of the day, but she seemed very bright and immediately made a couple of excellent suggestions once she had been given the brief.

Yvonne and I worked closely together over the next few days. Her work was excellent and on the day she filed the papers, I took her out to dinner as a “thank you” for her assistance.  She was excellent company and we had a fine evening.

Two weeks later, she rang to tell me of a minor hitch … not her fault, just some civil servant being rather pedantic. Alterations needed to be made as soon as possible, but I was committed to other matters that day.  She therefore asked if I could see her that evening. I said I could, and then she suggested I went to her house and she would cook a meal. I agreed

I was expecting her fiancé to be present – a man I knew was several years older than her, a farmer, as a result of our previous social conversations.  He wasn’t present when I arrived but had no reason to doubt he would be joining us at dinner time. 

We sorted out the problem in about an hour whilst dinner was cooking. I noticed the table was laid for two only, and asked if I was going to meet her fellow. I wasn’t, in fact … he was away on a rugby trip.

After dinner, and perhaps a glass or two more wine than I should have imbibed, we adjourned to the lounge for coffee. I sat on the sofa and was a little surprised when she sat next to me rather than take one of the armchairs.  In fact, she sat rather close to me. I could not help but notice that her wrap-around skirt had divided and was exposing not only her legs but her inner thigh

Now, I’m not a pushy man but I am pretty astute when it comes to women and … well, one doesn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.  I turned to face her and said it was a shame that our job had finished. She smiled sheepishly and then, closing her eyes, clumsily moved towards me and planted a kiss on my lips. She immediately backed off and apologised.

I said nothing, just gently took her chin in my hand, and kissed her gently but firmly. At the same time, I let my hand slide up her exposed thigh.  It must have been the way she was sitting, but the front of her thong was loose and my hand as soon on her already wet pussy. I could her a pleasant moan coming from her, so pushed her labia apart and caressed her clit.

She thrust her hips forward and I started to puh my fingers into her. She was panting with pleasure and I could feel myself getting hard. I suggested we moved to the bedroom.  It was then that things started to take a turn for the weird

We undressed hurriedly and she threw herself onto the bed, face up. She immediately gripped the bedposts at the top of the bed and opened her legs wide.

“Tie me up” she ordered. I was happy to oblige but had no idea with what I should bind her.

“There are ties in the wardrobe”. There were, indeed, a fine selection of silk ties in her fiance’s section of the wardrobe and I chose four. I then tied her wrists and ankles to each corner of the bed, and stood over her. Her nipples were incredibly erect and I’d have been more than happy just to stand there looking at her and pleasure myself. However, I climbed onto the bed and entered her, quite forcibly.

“Bite my nipples”  was her next demand and I dutifully obeyed.  We fucked hard, and were soon both sweating profusely. The slickness of our body moisture was turning us both on, and I moved one hand up to the throat and squeezed gently. She came almost immediately.

I was, at that stage, still enjoying myself too much to let myself go completely. I wanted to turn her over and pleasure her ass so I undid the ties. As I did so, she sat up. I told her to turn over, but instead she moved herself so that I was now sat on the edge of the bed and she was lying across me with her ass pushed up towards me

“Spank me! I’ve been a very bad girl”. I smacked her bottom but she urged me to do it harder and soon I was leaving red finger marks on her.   After five minutes of that, which she clearly loved, she got up. Grabbing the ties, she asked me to follow her as she walked naked back into the kitchen.

She took a chair from the table and bent right over the back of it. “Tie me to the chair”

I tied her ankles to the back legs and her wrists to the front legs. She told me to start caning her with a wooden spoon that was in a pot on the work surface.  The more I spanked her, the more excited she got, and the more excited I got.  I threw the spoon aside and, dropping to my knees, stuck my tongue into her tight little rosebud.  I then inserted a finger to widen in before then standing up and taking her full in the ass.

As I did so, she started saying “Fuck me, Daddy”, which freaked me out a little. It also turned me on even more.  I was thrusting so hard that the chair was in danger of tipping forward, so I let myself go and shot my load into her tight anus.

It all got a little bit embarrassing after that. We seemed to slip back into the lawyer / client relationship and she went very sheepish and asked whether I would tell anyone. I told her it was our little secret. I left very shortly after getting dressed.

I saw very little of Yvonne after that. I am aware that she left the practice for a bigger firm some months later. The last I saw her …. on TV, when she was stood behind a celebrity whom she had just represented in court. I wonder if he got those extra services?

Black Coffee In Bed

Training courses can be rather tedious affairs. Our professional body insists that we attend at least three days of training a year, and they are usually on rather dry subjects. However, the advantage is that you get to travel to a city and get a couple of nights away with no real pressure.

So I journeyed to Leeds one Wednesday afternoon feeling relaxed and wondering how I could avoid the next day’s lectures on international money laundering.  I checked into my hotel and, after slinging my suitcase on the bed, headed down to the bar to see if there was anyone else I knew in there. In fact, the bar was almost empty except for one woman I did recognise. 

She was a very good-looking Afro-Caribbean lady, aged around 30, whom I remembered had been brought up in Australia and had the accent to match. She was dressed in a smart business suit and I did notice her hair was somewhat longer than the last time I’d seen her. I also remembered that she had recently started her own business after having worked with a major player in our field for several years. She was also, I had heard, engaged to a musician in quite a well-known band

I remembered she had a reputation for being rather aloof and stand-offish and rarely socialised with others. What I could not, for the life of me, remember was her name.

She looked up when I walked in and said “hello”.  I went over to shake her hand and asked if she’d had a good journey. She sat down and indicated for me to do the same. She seemed very uptight and I wondered if I had disturbed her.  A waiter came over and I asked if I could get her a drink. I noticed she had an almost empty glass of orange juice in front of her. She nodded and I said “I’m having white wine. Care to join me?” She hesitated and then seemed to relax a bit and said “Why not?” I ordered a bottle of pinot noir.

We chatted about the forthcoming course and about the profession in general and then, suddenly, I remembered her name was Stephanie. As we chatted, I topped our glasses up from time to time.  The more she drank, the more relaxed she became, to the extent that she started to smile and even chuckle at my somewhat irreverent comments on some of our contemporaries and our professional body.

An hour passed very quickly, and I was actually enjoying myself. Stephanie was actually rather good company and I put her presumed aloofness down to perhaps nothing more than shyness.  In fact, I became emboldened and asked her if she was dining in the hotel. She was, and we agreed to eat together. I called the waiter over and booked a table for 7.00pm and ordered another bottle of wine.

We downed that quite quickly and it started to dawn on me that Stephanie was becoming ever-so-slightly drunk. Now this was a surprise.

We left the bar at 6.00pm to get ready for dinner, and met again 45 minutes later in the bar. Now I was a little shocked. The sober business suit had gone, and had been replaced by a blouse with perhaps one button too many undone and an extremely short (but obviously very expensive) skirt and the brightest red high heels which I quickly noticed were Louboutin’s.

Dinner was actually a hoot and we were getting on like a house on fire. I decided to try my luck and asked if she would like to go out in the city to check out the nightlife. I was expecting to be rebuffed but she actually seemed very keen on the idea. 

Two bars and a nightclub later and there was no doubt at all that Stephanie was drunk.  Proof, if proof be needed, occurred around 1.00am when I was leaning in close to talk to her over the music and she kissed me. Shortly afterwards, we were walking back to the hotel. Well, I was walking, and Stephanie was slightly staggering so that I had to put my arm around her wait to steady her. 

I had already discovered we were staying on the same floor and I knew we would reach my room first.  When we got there, I said I’d walk her along to her room. She giggled, and said she would come into my room for a coffee. 

No sooner had we got inside when she started kissing me again. I slid my hand up her skirt and was soon rubbing her clit over her panties.  She pulled away, turned to the bed, and got onto it. However, she did not lay down, but stayed on all fours with her ass towards me.  I needed no further encouragement.  I lifted her skirt up and pulled down her thong to her knees. Undoing my trousers, and pulling down my shorts, I entered her from behind.  With each thrust, she was rocking back hard, so that my cock was penetrating deep inside her.  When I approached climax, I pulled out and pushed the head of my rod into the rosebud of her ass. It opened as if by magic and I needed no lubrication as I pushed into her. She squealed and gasped “Yes. Fuck me hard” and I did, shooting my load inside her very tight ass.

Spent, I collapsed on the bed and she twisted round to lie next to me. “That was great!” she said and I slid my hand inside her blouse, which she proceeded to unbutton further.  She had fantastic breasts; small but firm with dark black nipples that stood erect like little thimbles. I could not resist giving them a pinch, which Stephanie clearly liked. 

I finished undressing her, and then undressed myself, before pulling the duvet over us.  I was very soon asleep, the combination of good wine and fucking great sex. The next thing I knew I was being pulled awake by Stephanie who was stood there stark naked with a cup of coffee, saying “Wake up! I want to talk”. I looked at the clock … it was 4.30am

And talk we did … until breakfast time, in fact.  OK, there was the odd time when passion got the best of us and I spent some time tonguing her clit through a thick mass of wiry black hair, and clamping my teeth around those fabulous nipples, and she gave me head. But on the whole we talked, and in those three hours grew a friendship that remains to this day.

We sat next to each other during the lectures, and had coffee together. When I went to the rest room, George (a pal from way back) followed me and asked “Have you shagged her?”  I replied with a smile, which told him all he needed to know.

That was five years ago. Stephanie is married now, but that hasn’t stopped us enjoying each other whenever we are on the same course …. Something that happens … ooh …. three times a year!

Six Of The Best

Throughout my adventures, I have always found meeting women rather easy. If I say so myself, I have a certain charm and not a little style. Add to that what I am told is a warm, winning smile, a quick wit and the ability to listen rather than talk about myself, and one has a recipe for attracting female company. Not that I use it on everyone … I have a lot of female friends I would never dream of becoming intimate with. Some of them know I have a “relaxed” attitude to fidelity, but to most I am just a very good mate.

Meeting men, when the mood takes me, however is much more difficult. For a start, I have a great deal of difficulty in spotting a gay or bisexual man and rarely have I given off vibes that would indicate that I was interested in another man.

Places like the Sauna Bar are useful and I will often research gay bars in places I am visiting. However, for the most part I now use gay dating sites and smartphone apps.  Such methods are not always successful … I have arranged meetings where the man has not in the slightest interested me … this is because few people put genuine photographs of themselves on the site.

More often than not, however, I end up having great fun. Lionel is a shining example.

We made contact online when I was visiting the north-west, and spoke briefly on the phone the day before meeting. He intrigued me because he was so very well-spoken – no hint of campness, just very clear and accent-less diction.  It therefore came as no surprise to discover, upon meeting him, that he was a retired actor.

He was in his late 60s when we met, and I was some 20 years younger. Arriving at the address he had given me, he answered the door in a silk dressing gown. He was of average height, with a bald pate, and stocky without being overly fat. As is usual at such meetings, because we both know why I am there, we dispensed with the niceties by simply introducing ourselves and shaking hands. Lionel then guided me upstairs to his bedroom.

He undid and removed his dressing gown to reveal a hairless body – even his pubic hair had been removed – that was pale and a little paunchy. His cock was flaccid, and appeared on the small side. He laid on the bed and pointed to a couple of coat hangers that he had thoughtfully provided for my clothes.

I undressed quickly, in the manner a gentleman should. There is a certain order as to how a man should undress, whatever the gender of the person he is undressing for ... jacket, tie, shirt, shoes, socks, trousers, shorts. As soon as I was naked, I laid on the bed next to him and started to stroke his chest and nipples.

He leaned into me to kiss me. Now, I have to say that when I first embarked on my bisexual escapades, and for several years afterwards, I was averse to kissing another man. However, once I forced myself to do it on one occasion, I found I quite enjoyed it. So I responded to Lionel’s kiss by pushing my tongue deep into his mouth, at the same time moving my hand down to gently caress his cock which I could feel reacting to my touch. 

My own rod needed no such stimulation and Lionel moved his hand to take me firmly and start to masturbate me.  As he did so, I let go of his member and moved my hand round to find the entrance to his ass and gently insert a finger into it.

Again, it is a bit of a myth that all gay and bisexual men want anal intercourse. Many, in fact, don’t and are happy to wank or suck a cock and have the same done to then.  One does not like to be brash about this, though, and I knew he would move my hand away if he was not interested. He didn’t, so I pushed my finger deeper into him and felt him tense with pleasure. 

He moved away from me and moved his mouth down my body to my sex, which he commenced to lick, before running his tongue around the head, and then took me full in his mouth. I laid back and let him pleasure me, before then suggesting that I repay the favour at the same time. Soon we were in the classic 69 position, each sucking the others cock.  In fact, it was so pleasurable that I had to pull away to stop from coming too soon.

Lionel pushed me over onto my front and started to stick his tongue into my ass, followed by his finger, thus gently stretching it.  Soon, I felt the cold drip of lubricant squelching into my asshole, followed by the tip of his, now much larger, penis pushing in.  I shifted position so that I was on all fours with him kneeling behind me, and the delicious feeling of his cock sliding all the way into my ass. 

He was surprisingly virile in his fucking of me, and I then caught a whiff of the unmistakeable smell of poppers. He took a deep breath of it before putting it under my nose. Immediately, my heart rate quickened and I could feel my ass squeezing his cock. I then felt the warm jet of his spunk shooting deep inside me.

He pulled out and pushed me face down onto the bed. He reached between my legs and pulled my throbbing cock down so that it was between my legs, even though it was extremely hard. Then, just using his thumb and forefinger, he massaged the head until I came in an extremely intense orgasm.

The usual scenario after both have come in such situations is that we clean up, get dressed and go our separate ways. However, as Lionel lay down on the bed next to me, and after kissing me long and hard, he asked if I could do him a service.

He reached down the head of the bed and pulled out what looked like a very flimsy walking stick. Then the penny dropped … it was a school cane. 

“Can you give me six of the best?” he asked in his plummy voice.

Now, I’m no stranger to administering corporal punishment (see future chapters of this blog) so I could see no reason why I should not oblige him.

“Of course”, I said, and was surprised at just how big his smile was.

We clambered off the bed and he bent over his dressing table, gripping onto the back edge.  I stood up behind him and delivered a short, sharp blow across his buttocks.

“Harder, please, …. Six of your very best”

Each blow brought up a red welt across his ass and I have to admit to feeling a frisson of excitement as I did so.  This was nothing to the effect it was having on him, however.  His cock expanded as if it was being inflated and he was soon fully hard again.

When I had finished, He went to stand up but I pushed him back down.  I used the same trick on him …. Reaching between his legs I pulled his cock down and started to massage it as if milking a cow.  He came very quickly, and I caught the spunk and used it to lubricate his ass.  Soon, I was holding his arms down on the dressing table as I was pumping away at his bum. I reached down for his poppers and came to a shuddering climax as I inhaled it deeply.

As I was dressing shortly afterwards, I mentioned that I was very impressed with his powers of recovery, having two orgasms so close together. He opened the dressing table drawer and through me a pack of pills, saying “the secret of my success”.  It was the first time I had ever seen Viagra, but certainly not the last.

I met Lionel a couple of times after that, but five years ago his phone was not answered as it was “out of service” . I went to the house but new people were living there. I asked if they knew how to get in touch with him and received the sad news that he had died six months before.

A Pang Of Guilt .... But Just A Pang

Annual Conference time ... on paper an event open all members of my profession and an opportunity to gather to discuss recent trends and developments, to network, and to promote our services.  In reality, a chance for old friends and acquaintances to meet up and enjoy three days of unofficial R and R in usually plush surroundings.  For me, it has always been about the latter.

A very recent event was held in Barcelona – a favourite city of mine – and I arrived on a Thursday evening to meet up with several friends who I have got to know well over the years.  The evening was spent in the hotel catching up on the past twelve months, preparatory to two days of daytime seminars and night time frolics.

Friday evening and there is a group of about eight of us “doing the town”.  At some point, we enter one of Barcelona’s many lap-dancing clubs. Now, I have to say that these establishments are not usually “my thing” ... I get no enjoyment in having to pay a girl to gyrate naked in front of me. If I have to pay a woman, it will always be for an evening of sex in my hotel room – and even that is not something I have done with any great frequency.

It’s still relatively early and the club is not that busy. As soon as we enter, a bevy of beautiful girls (mostly eastern European) descend upon us, entreating us to purchase champagne and a dance with them. I brush off several with a smile and a comment that I’ve only come in for a drink and “maybe a dance later”.

It therefore comes as a major surprise to me when a pretty young girl moves towards me and enquires of me “Mr Walker?” I turn to look at her more closely ... she’s in her early 20s, long-ish hair dyed a very dark red, wearing a black bra and matching French knickers, with a tattoo of a vine running up the side of her leg and across her tummy, I’m pretty sure I have never seen her before in my life.

“Oh gosh, this is embarrassing”, she says. She may be blushing, but the club is far too dark to tell.

“You clearly have an advantage over me”, I say, having to lean close to her to make myself heard over the rather loud r’n’b soundtrack in the place.

“I’m Melissa, -------‘s friend!” she says, and it all clicks into place.  She was an old school friend of my 22 year old daughter and had attended several of ------‘s birthday parties. She had moved away at 17 and my wife had only recently asked my daughter if she was still in contact with Melissa. “No”, had come the reply.

“Well”, I say “This was the last place I expected to see you again” and offer to buy her a drink.

Over the next ten minutes she tells me that she had left school and had started work as a PA for a company director before discovering that she could earn three times as much dancing in clubs. She’d moved to Barcelona three months earlier. 

The club is far too noisy to talk so I ask if we can meet for a coffee the following day. I went to give her a business card but she says she wasn’t allowed to accept them – club rules – but told me the name and address of a coffee bar and I put the details into my phone.  I then tell her she’d better go off and earn some money

Ten minutes later, I see her disappearing into a booth with one of the blokes I’d come in with. I have to admit this made me feel slightly uncomfortable and told my other friends I’d meet them in the bar next door

The following day I slip away from a seminar to go meet Melissa. I have no trouble recognising her today, as I see her sat outside wearing jeans, a t-shirt, trainers, and a bright pink baseball cap.  I order a coffee and a brandy for both of us.

The next couple of hours seemed to melt away. She confirmed she had no contact with my daughter or their mutual friends and asked that I didn’t tell them that I’d met her. She seemed a little embarrassed by her new job and said she was only doing it because the pay was so good and she was saving hard.  She was very pleasant company, and reminded me that she had always been “the joker in the pack” – the comedienne in my daughter’s circle. But there was also a sensuousness about her … an inate sense of her own sexuality and the effect it had on others. 

It was time for me to leave and I told her how nice it had been to spend the afternoon with her. IO gave her a kiss on the cheek and was about to walk away when she blurted out “What are you doing later?”. As I turned to look at her, I thought I detected signs of her blushing.

“I’m supposed to be going to a dinner”, I said “Are you not working?”

“Not tonight”, she said “I work four days on and three off, and tonight is my first night off”

Libertine or not, I felt a pang of guilt at my feelings of wanting to spend more time with this (very) young lady. But … hey! 

“Shall we go out to dinner”, I said. 

“That would be lovely”

I got her to write down her address and said I would pick her up at 8.00pm. The next few hours left me pondering why I hadn’t taken down her phone number.  Had I done, I probably would have rung to cancel, making some excuse.  However, being a gentleman, I could not just not turn up so I got my hotel to get me a taxi and I headed for her apartment

I pressed the intercom and the door buzzed open as her voice emanated from the speaker, saying “second floor”.  She opened the door just as I climbed the last step. She looked stunning.  She was wearing a simple black and orange dress, short but loose-fitting, with bare legs and feet. After I tore my eyes away from her, I also saw a table laid for two behind her.

“I thought I’d cook, rather than go out”, she said.

“Fine”, I thought, and my misgivings about the evening started to evaporate to be replaced by a feeling that I had to have this girl. 

It was a simple meal of paella and salad, but very tasty and was washed down with a couple of bottles of cheap but pleasant red wine.  Again, conversation came easy and I was truly relaxed by 10pm when we cleared the table.

The kitchen was, in reality, little more than a galley with barely enough room for two people. As she put the dishes in the sink, I had to squeeze past to get to the fridge. As I did, my groin brushed against her and I felt her move almost imperceptibly back against me. I stopped. She turned. She looked up at me and I bent down to kiss her gently. 

I had intended to thank her for the meal but passion overtook me. The gentle kiss turned hungry, and she responded by sliding her hand up my chest. I placed my hand behind her and moved down towards her ass. I was pretty sure she wasn’t wearing panties, and I found this to be true as I slid my hand up her dress and cupped her pert ass in my hand.  As I did this, she moved her hand to rub against my trousers and swelling cock.

All sense left me. I put my hands under her arms and lifted her onto the work surface. She responded by lifting her legs and let them rest on my shoulders. I did not even bother to remove my trousers. I unzipped and let my cock spring free, before guiding it into her sopping wet gash. She gasped, and pulled my face to her as I pushed into her. I reached down and rubbed her clit in time with my thrusts.

After several minutes of pure, animal, fucking I lifted her down and let her mouth find my cock. However, I could feel I was very close to climax, so pulled her up and whispered “let’s go to bed”

Once in the bedroom, she undressed me completely and then pushed me to lay down on the bed. She then pulled her dress over her head, revealing a complete lack of underwear.  She straddled me and I cupped her small but perfectly formed breasts.  As she rode me, I squeezed her nipples – clearly something she loved.

Again, I was on the point of coming so told her. She climbed off me and started to lick my cock until the spunk shot onto her face, hair and breasts.  Wiping herself off with the sheet, she snuggled down beside me.

I don’t remember falling asleep but I woke with sun streaming into the bedroom and seeing Melissa nestling in the crook of my arm with her legs wrapped around me. When she woke, we made love. Not the fierce, aggressive love-making of the night before but gently, lovingly, softly. 

I never did get back to the conference. We went out for breakfast, wandered around the old town, had a couple of drinks, went back to her apartment, and made love again.

I had to leave mid-afternoon to get back to my hotel to pack as I was flying home that evening. The parting was a rather sad one, and I wondered if I would ever see Melissa again.

I did, and still do. She moved back to the UK and now works in a city I have to visit regularly. In fact, I’ve even visited her new club and bought a few dances from her. Always great fun, and even more fun when we meet up after she finishes work.