Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Romantic, Heterosexual, Slow, .
Desc: Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - When her husband has to work overseas, a young woman has time on her hands.
Author's note: As a result of feedback relating to previous stories, I am trying to re-evaluate my use of punctuation. This has proved to be marginally easier than giving up smoking, and is still a work in progress ... THK
"How about it, Love?" the man said.
"All right," she replied, quietly. Rachel McGinley pulled her cotton nightdress up over her thighs and hips and then she sat up in bed and pulled it all the way over her head. Her husband of six weeks, James, positioned himself above her, taking his weight on his knees and elbows. He dipped his body until his mouth was over hers ... they kissed for several minutes.
"Are you ready, Love?"
"Okay." She opened her legs wider, ready to accept him.
His penis was already hard and eager, so balancing precariously on one elbow, with his free hand he reached down and drew back his foreskin, then guided his member towards her. Rachel had done this enough times now to try and relax ... she knew that if she stayed tense, it would only make the penetration harder, increasing her level of discomfort even more.
The first time they had tried, on their wedding night, his clumsiness and her nervousness had prevented penetration. He'd tried and tried until she was so sore and hurting, that she'd had to beg him to stop.
"I'm sorry!" she'd said, "It's first night nerves, I can't relax. The harder you try, the more tense I get."
"All right, Rachel," James said, obviously disappointed at not being able to exercise his manhood, but having genuine concern for her feelings, "I'm sure it'll be easier when we get to know each other's ways better!"
She had lain in his arms after that, still sore from his attempts, but actually rather liking the feeling of just being close to him and reminding her of why she loved him.
But then she'd talked to her older, married, sister, Beth, about her difficulties ... and her sister, married four years and with two children, had given her some womanly advice.
"You've got to think about what you love about your James best, and then you've got to remember how much you want to please him! But probably most important of all, you've got to find things at home that you can put inside you when you're alone. Start small and work up, and when you get used to the feeling, you won't be so scared of having him inside you. Is he a big chap, Rachel, if you know what I mean," Beth said.
"No, not so big, I think ... more long than thick."
"Then that's better for you, you won't need to stretch so much! Remember: small girth and work your way up gradually. And try this..." Beth handed her sister a tube of KY Jelly. Rachel had returned home to put her sister's advice into practice.
Rachel and Bethan were the youngest and closest of four sisters. As children, all four girls were taught how to keep their womanly parts clean, but were instructed by their mother never to touch themselves there unnecessarily. And because of the thick hair that covered that part of their body in later life, they rarely even got to see themselves.
Beth had told her sister to begin by using a wet finger, which to their mother would have seemed a truly shocking suggestion, so it would be the first time in her twenty years that Rachel would have dared to do such a thing. But Beth had said that she should do it ... so on the word of her sister alone, she was prepared to turn one of her biggest childhood taboos on its head. And once committed to the idea, she actually felt quite relaxed ... physically and emotionally ... about it. She had even embraced sister Bethan's other suggestion: try it while taking a hot bath. A nice bath did relax her, she thought, although even while being undressed, she never associated it with her marital relations.
Rachel and James McGinley had a nice, new house with hot water available practically all day: unlike her parent's remote farmhouse, where hot water was still a scarce resource. James was at work and wouldn't be home for several hours, so she went upstairs and into her nice new bathroom, with it's roll-top bath and the still gleaming, white ceramic suite. She opened the hot tap fully and filled the deep tub more than half-full, before adding the cold water to cool it enough for comfort. Returning to her bedroom, she quickly pinned up her hair before removing her clothes.
For a moment the temperature of the water shocked her body and almost took her breath away, but then she settled down into the heat. Although James would rarely come into the bathroom if she was in there, she would never fill the bath with this much water if he was even in the house, but now the water reached her chin.
It was time. There was still some soreness, but she tentatively moved her hand into place. She knew exactly what she wanted to do, but unfamiliarity and her old reserve made her hesitate, but then her middle finger found its objective ... there was no resistance, it just slipped straight in!
A little gentle pressure and it was inside her as far as it would go. For the first time she felt the textures of her own inner body as the lining closed around her finger: not squeezing, just involuntarily holding it in place. She wondered if she could control the squeezing sensation herself, so she tried to tightly clench her buttocks. It worked ... and how strange it felt.
Rachel still didn't know exactly what her own body was doing, but she was aware that it wasn't an unpleasant sensation. She felt the urge to move her finger, so she moved it in and out as she knew that a man did when inside her. A dozen or so small movements ... still quite pleasant ... so why did her mother insist that it was wrong? But she knew that she couldn't stay in the bath much longer ... but there was one more thing ... She slowly withdrew her finger; feeling the sensation as her body adapted again to the finger's absence. Then slowly she held two fingers together and eased them inside her body; and after two, three! Each time her body adapted to the new size and shape.
Then somewhat reluctantly, Rachel got out of the bath. Wrapping a towel around herself, she pulled out the plug, allowing the silky water to drain away, before she wiped the bath out.
Walking back into her bedroom, she dried her body and dressed again. Downstairs in the kitchen, she started to prepare her husband's evening meal, but as she stood peeling and cutting vegetables, she pondered over her earlier experience. It was stage fright that had made her so tense before: but she knew now a little of what to expect, and hopefully how to get her body to relax more. And she needed something like the water to makes things slippery enough to help James enter her smoothly.
So that night in bed Rachel told James that she thought that she might be able to manage it now. She was certainly feeling much less tense, and she suggested that maybe James could use some of the lubricant that Bethan had given her.
Well, he was naturally still rather clumsy and uncoordinated, but at least they managed full penetration. James was a true man at last, and they were now husband and wife in the fullest sense. It was, however, still a rather uncomfortable and unsatisfying experience for Rachel ... James obviously assumed that as he was getting pleasure from the act, so Rachel must be too! And given more time she may well also have done, but James had no conception of how to control his love making to satisfy his wife. She did feel some kind of mild enjoyment while he was taking his pleasure, but when he emptied himself inside her, she was still a long way from experiencing that same kind of pleasure for herself.
They were both still relatively young and sexually na•ve, but she did really love him, so she never refused his advances after that and things did get a little better for her over time: but the times that she enjoyed and looked forward to the most, where afterwards, when he kissed her tenderly and held her in his arms. He was a generous man and never denied her in other ways, but those fleeting night-time hours when his strong arms enfolded her, were the times that she felt the most loved.
Rachel had still not learned to drive, so she and James usually did their main shopping for the week at the weekend, but if she needed anything before then, there was the convenience store about ten minutes walk away, and because they delivered the McGinley's daily paper, she always went in there at least once a week to pay the bill.
"Good morning, Mrs McGinley!" the shopkeeper said as she arrived there on Friday, "I think it's going to be another lovely day ... it's about time, too, after all that rain!"
"Yes, I hope so, Mr Jackson ... it's all been rather depressing so far ... and all those poor people that have had their homes flooded. It must be heart-breaking for them."
Gareth Jackson wasn't exactly the sort of person that you'd expect to be running a shop like that one. He was thirty, really rather good-looking, and until about a year ago he'd been a professional footballer. He'd never been with one of the top Premier League clubs, but he'd been a good pro in the second-flight leagues until a serious injury had cut short his career. He'd also never earned the really big money like the stars of the game, but he was comfortable, so he'd invested some of his savings in the shop, where he intended to stay and try and earn a reasonable living ... and so far that had been achieved.
Rachel looked around the well-stocked shelves and picked up a few items that she hadn't been aware that she needed, but bought anyway. Gareth Jackson had an easy-going manner and he always took the time to get to know his regular customers. And even the happily-married, twenty year old Rachel McGinley wasn't entirely immune to his good looks and charm. She paid cash for her shopping and the week's newspapers and she was about to leave when he said:
"Oh, before I forget, Mrs McGinley, you're not looking for a part-time job are you: I was thinking of taking on one or two part-time people to help me; I'm not used to doing all this hard work." But he was smiling as he said it.
"I'm sorry. I wouldn't mind, but my husband earns quite good money in his job, and I don't think he wants me to work. I can ask him, but I think I know what he'll say."
"That's fair enough. But if you change your mind, let me know: I won't advertise, I'll just ask my regulars. Have a nice day, Mrs McGinley!"
"You, too, Mr Jackson!" And so sure was she of what he would say, that she didn't even mention it to James.
Another month or so passed. Nothing really significant had happened in Rachel's life, but one evening James came home from work with some important news.
"I'm going to Stockholm for two months, maybe longer!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Chris Palmer has more experience, but they're giving me the chance." Rachel didn't look happy. " ... I know, Love, I'll miss you, too, but if I do a good job over there it could do my career a lot of good."
"So when are you going?"
"The end of the month. Look, rather than cooking something tomorrow, we'll go out for a nice meal instead."
On the day that he left, a company driver had taken them both to the airport, where Rachel bade her husband a tearful goodbye, then the driver brought her home again. At first she just lay on her bed and cried, but then she pulled herself together and went downstairs to make a cup of coffee. She wondered how she was going to occupy herself while James was away, her life was pretty much centred around him: doing housework and laundry, and preparing and cooking his meals.
Before she had married and left home ... the last of the married sisters to leave; her unmarried sister, Annie, was still there ... her time was pretty much taken up with helping out on the farm. The terrain wasn't suitable for arable farming, so they had mainly sheep, but also a few other varieties of livestock to look after.
From age five to sixteen, Rachel made the long journey to school each day: first, the little school in the village and then the secondary school in the nearest town. And although brought up on a farm, with it's daily concerns of life and death and animal husbandry, she was generally socially awkward and unworldly. She experienced a certain amount of teasing because of her ignorance and unsophistication, but she was otherwise happy being away from the farm and her domineering mother, and being with other people, less demanding.
She actually couldn't wait to get away from her mother's control, so as soon as she was eighteen, although still living at home and helping out when she could, she was lucky enough to get a job in the village, which is where she met James.
He was a local boy, but not of farming stock. He had finished his A-levels, but instead of going off to university, he'd found a job with his present employer. He was a year older and a little more worldly than Rachel, but his family also believed that you stayed chaste until you were married. There was an instant attraction between them and they dated, then got engaged, during which time they kissed and cuddled, but nothing more. After a simple church wedding, they moved south to James' company's head office location, in one of the expanding new towns, where his income allowed them to get a mortgage on a new starter home on a modern estate.
Rachel picked up the newspaper that had arrived that morning, but instead of reading its content, she was reminded of her conversation with Gareth Jackson several weeks previously, and she decided to at least ask him about the part-time job the next time that she was in there; which would probably be the next day.
"Good morning, Mrs McGinley!" he said as usual, "And how are you today!"
"Oh, not so bad, thanks." She made her usual tour of the shelves, but James had made sure that she was well-provisioned during his absence. She handed over any outstanding cash. "So how did your staff hunting go, Mr Jackson?"
"Hmm ... that's still an ongoing process, I'm afraid! I've tried a few people, but they haven't lasted long. Why ... are you interested!"
"Well, my husband's working away for a while, and although I don't need the money, I think I might like something to occupy me. I did work in a shop before I was married." Gareth Jackson smiled his handsome smile:
"When can you start ... now..."
"Well I could, I suppose, but shouldn't you tell me a bit about the job first."
"All right! Well, we're quite hi-tech, here ... almost everything in stock has a barcode, so sale items are scanned at the cash register. All the stock is on a database, so when you scan something it shows the details on the till. When the money is taken ... whether it's cash or a card ... the item is automatically deducted from the stock numbers, so we always know when stock is low and needs reordering. This means that the stock items don't have to be individually priced, and increases or decreases in price can be adjusted on the system, rather than separately on every item. The system even allows random checks to make sure that items have the right code and price. And when we have deliveries, only each batch is checked and then things can go straight onto shelves. Being here on my own, it's saved me hours of work in the evening after the shop closes."
" ... And you said almost everything is coded and scanned..."
"Well spotted!" Gareth exclaimed, "Those odd items without codes are entered manually, so apart from the Lottery and people who pay their utility bills, or want phone credits, all you really need to know is how to count money."
"Well, I haven't done all of those things before, but I have done some of it," said Rachel.
"That's good! How many hours do you want to work: I was thinking ten until four, to give me a break during the day sometimes, and Saturday if you can manage it! That's thirty hours, and I'll still look for someone else as well. I thought £6.50 an hour ... that's well above the National Minimum Wage."
"Yes, please! I'd like to have a go ... so what do you want me to do first?"
"Well, we'll take the till work slowly, but I've got some stock that can go on the shelves. I'll show you how the hand-held scanner works..."
"Good job, Rachel!" Gareth said at four o'clock, "I don't think that you're going to have any problems at all!"
"Thank you, Gareth, it was good! Look, I don't have to run off, so can I get you a tea or coffee before I go?"
"Champion! Either will do, and make one for yourself, if you have time."
There was a little area just off of the stock room, with the toilet, and with facilities for making hot drinks. Finding the time to use either was the biggest drawback to being there on his own. For the first few months that he'd been there after buying the place there was an older women who worked for the previous owner, but as soon as Gareth had started to modernise the shop, she had decided that she didn't like change and had left. So now he was virtually shop-bound, from early in the morning when he opened the door, until six in the evening when he closed up again; even on Sunday, when he opened later and closed earlier. And during those times he'd had to do everything.
It was certainly very different from his previous job, where he trained for a few hours every day except Sundays and match days, and where he was with a good bunch of lads with all the friendly banter and wisecracks. The career-ending injury had come as a blow, but that's a part of the job that you always hope never happens, but you know sometimes does. And he was lucky ... he'd had eleven enjoyable years and had never been out of work during that time, and his other sports injuries had been minor and few in number.
Rachel carried their drinks through to the shop. It was now fairly quiet after the busy period of mothers and children on their way home from school.
"Do you mind me asking, Gareth ... no family of your own? What about all these footballer's WAG's we read about." He smiled, but kind of wistfully, she thought. [Wives and girlfriends]
"Yes, I had one of those once ... but not one of the ex-beauty queen or fashion clothes-horse types! Just a sweet-natured girl who never really got used to the lifestyle! She's remarried, to a Canadian, and lives in Ontario now ... we exchange Christmas cards. There were no children, thankfully; although I would have liked some."
"I'm very sorry, Gareth! I was born and raised on a farm, but I never wanted to marry a farmer. I'm much happier now than I was then."
"And do you and your husband plan on having a family soon?"
"In time, I suppose ... but he's still building his career, and I'm in no hurry at the moment. I don't think that you should have children just to fill up your time." Rachel washed up the empty mugs.
"Well, have a good evening, Gareth. I'll see you at ten tomorrow, then!" He watched the pretty young woman walk away.
Rachel was there at ten-to-ten the next morning. It had been funny going back to the house, knowing that James wasn't going to be there ... it was the longest that they'd been apart since they were married. And then she ate alone, and watched TV alone ... and strangest of all ... slept alone. But she was also quite excited at the prospect of going back to work.
"Morning, Gareth! Do you want to take a break, or can I get you a drink before I start?"
"Morning, Rachel! Why don't you come and watch what I do with the till for a little while, then you can serve a few customers, and then if you're comfortable I'll go and make us a drink; you can always shout out if you get stuck."
As Gareth had said, it was essentially a very simple system, but there were new things to learn, and when people learn new things, sometimes they feel pressured. Fortunately, though, due to her previous experience of working in a shop, Rachel wasn't intimidated by serving customers, so it was only the method of working and the technology used that was a little strange; and once she had mastered those, it was easy.
By lunchtime she was happily serving customers and Gareth was confident enough in her ability to leave her to get on with it. He was never far away in case she needed help, but he definitely felt that some of the pressure had been taken off of himself already.
Since James and Rachel had moved into their house they hadn't really got to know any of their neighbours, but several familiar faces came into the shop that day and Rachel was soon chatting away to them as if she'd known them for years! She was entitled to a break during the day, but apart from making Gareth and herself a couple of drinks, and stopping for a few minutes to eat a sandwich from the range the shop sold, she was happy to work through.
That evening James rang her from Sweden and they talked for about thirty minutes. Since he'd only been gone a short time she decided not to tell him about Gareth and the shop yet, so when he asked what she'd been doing, she didn't exactly lie, she just said: 'Oh, you know ... keeping myself busy!'
The rest of the week was as enjoyable as the first few days for Rachel ... she still felt strange sleeping alone at night in the house, but she was actually quite relieved not to have to endure sex on demand. She had started sleeping without her nightdress, which she did find quite a pleasurable experience.
One week quickly turned into two, and then two into a month. Rachel now knew how the shop worked almost as well as Gareth did, and a few times he had even left her completely alone for an hour or two while he went into town on an errand. James didn't ring every night, but he always sounded very pleased to hear her voice when he did. The job was going very well, but he was looking forward to seeing her again, soon.
On Saturday, during a tea break, Rachel said to her boss:
"Gareth, would you like to come round for dinner tomorrow?"
"Well, I would, but I'm not sure how wise that is, Rachel. We both know quite a few people on this estate, and some of them must know that your husband's away ... you don't think that it might be 'awkward'" Rachel smiled sweetly.
"I'm prepared to risk it, Gareth! I know it's not far to walk, but it would probably be better if you come round in your car and park right outside the house, so people can see you. And don't you think that it would look much more suspicious if people saw me coming here on a Sunday?"
" ... Well, in that case ... and if there's anything that you need from here..."
So. as arranged, at four-thirty on Sunday afternoon Gareth's car pulled up outside of Rachel's house. She saw him arrive, but she waited until he rang the doorbell to let him in; and he didn't bring flowers, as he might otherwise have done when visiting a friend.
"I feel like I should be wearing a trench coat with the collar turned up, and a false beard and sunglasses, but I thought that might be a bit over the top!" Rachel laughed.
"Yes ... maybe just a bit!"
She was quite a competent cook, and she had timed the meal for when he arrived, so they sat down to dinner almost straight away. It was a traditional Sunday roast with all the trimmings. It was a favourite of James', but Rachel never went to the trouble of cooking it just for herself.
"I know that you're driving, but would you like a glass of wine or a beer, Gareth?"
"No, thanks! I know it's not far, but it's not worth the risk. But don't let me stop you."
"No, I'm all right: I can take it or leave it. Do you usually cook for yourself, or do you live on frozen and processed stuff from the shop?"
"Well, when I was in the shop on my own all day, you can imagine that the last thing I wanted to do when I closed up in the evening was to cook! But because I was a professional sportsman, I try to stay in shape, which means that I sometimes eat processed foods for convenience, but I have a treadmill in my flat over the shop, because I don't have time to run in the streets! It's a compromise, but it seems to be working ... I can keep my weight down, but I've lost some of my muscle tone."
"Well, now that I'm in the shop, perhaps you can take some time to run outside, or even go to a gym."
"Mmm ... perhaps! What about you, you look like you take care of yourself?"
"Well, like I said, I grew up on a farm, which is quite a physical lifestyle, and you have to muck in to get everything done: but since I've been married, I've let myself get a bit soft, but if he's home and not too tired, James takes me swimming a couple of times a week; although I haven't been since he's been away."
"Maybe we can work something out, then," Gareth said, "If you can cover for me in the shop during the day while I exercise, maybe I can take you swimming in the evening, while your husband's away."
"Okay! He's probably going to be away for at least another month. We used to go to the public pool on Saturday evening and one evening during the week. Do you swim, Gareth?"
"Only recreationally ... in the sea and pools while on vacation; but I haven't had one of those for a year or two."
They sat and chatted for several hours, and although it was all very innocent, they thought that it was better if Gareth didn't stay too long, so he left just after seven o'clock that evening.
"How about Wednesday for swimming, unless your husband says he's going to ring that evening? Bring your things in the morning and we can go as soon as I've closed up."
"All right, that sounds good; and if James rings on Tuesday, I'll tell him I'm going on Wednesday."
"And have you told him you're working now?"
"I have ... he took it better than I thought he would! He asked me lots of questions about you and the shop ... but he never actually asked me when I started here, and I didn't tell him. You don't mind if he wants to come and say hello one Saturday, do you?"
"No, of course not! And you can get away a bit earlier on a Saturday as well, if James wants to take you shopping."
On Wednesday morning Rachel arrived at the shop with her small spots bag, containing things her swimwear and clothes to change into afterwards.
"You can wait upstairs in the flat if you like," Gareth said, at four o'clock, " ... Have a bit of a break before we go out."
"Okay! I'll make you a drink first, though."
The flat above the shop was self-contained, except that there was no access from outside, apart from a metal fire escape staircase, for use in the event of a fire in the shop. Rachel had been curious about what it might be like up there, but she had never had cause to go up before. With all the hours that Gareth spent in the shop, Rachel suspected that it might be a bit untidy, but she was pleasantly surprised to find it really quite organised and uncluttered. Gareth had told her to, in his own words, 'have a bit of a nose around.' It was the same overall dimensions as the shop, of course, so the internal entrance was towards the back. Overlooking the shop's small, rear yard was the kitchen; a nice size and quite well-appointed, Rachel thought. Next to that was the bathroom which was big enough for a bath and a separate shower, as well as a toilet and wash basin. It was also comparatively free of all the various bottles and jars to be found in her own bathroom.
The next two rooms were bedrooms: one slightly bigger than the other. In what she assumed was the spare room, were a standard size double-bed, a plain, painted wardrobe and a tall chest of drawers.
It was therefore supposed that the adjacent bedroom must be Gareth's. It had his now-familiar aroma, and it was furnished in much the same way as the other room; the bed was bigger, however, and there were also additional extras. On some of the walls were framed photographs of him and his different team-mates during his career. It was quite amusing to see the way that he and footballing fashions had changed over the years! There was other memorabilia, some of which she could only guess at it's uses and origins. There was also the exercise treadmill that he had told her about.
Rachel was intrigued. She tentatively pushed the button that she believed made it go. It didn't seem too fast, so she slipped off her shoes and got on. It was quite a strange sensation ... she'd never been on one before, but she knew enough to know that you have to keep moving while the belt is going round. But then after few minutes of fast walking pace, she rather ungracefully dismounted again.
The sitting room was at the front of the building and was it's full width. There was a three-piece suite, with a large sofa; a dining table and six chairs, a very large flat screen TV, and several cabinets that contained other reminders of Gareth's previous life. Rachel thought that she and James had a nice home, but she'd never been one who cared much about furniture and things, others than their comfort or functionality.
It was now ten to six, so Rachel thought that while she was waiting for Gareth to close up the shop, she might as well save some time and put on her one-piece swimsuit. Without really questioning why, she picked up her holdall and carried it into the main bedroom. Then, having laid the swimwear on the bed, she took off her clothes. She liked the feeling of being naked and since James had been away she often walked around the house like it in the evening. Before putting on the swimsuit she stretched.
" ... Oh! I'm so sorry ... I didn't know you were in here!" Gareth exclaimed, before quickly exiting the room. If Rachel had taken the time to think about it, she might have wondered why she wasn't embarrassed, why she hadn't instinctively tried to cover herself, or why she smiled after he'd closed the door behind him.