Evelyn
Chapter 5

Copyright© 2013 by awnlee jawking

Spanking Sex Story: Chapter 5 - Dave hasn't yet met Miss Right but has plenty of fun practising with a bevy of willing Miss Right Nows. Then he meets the enigmatic Evelyn, who rebuffs his advances. Has he met his match?

Caution: This Spanking Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual   Spanking   First   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Slow  

The drive to my parents' house was uneventful and I arrived just before lunch. I spent a sweaty, back-breaking afternoon clearing the furniture out of a couple of rooms and storing it wherever possible, which unfortunately meant some of it had to go down into the basement or up into the attic.

I certainly felt I had earned the roast beef my mother had cooked for dinner. Of course I got the usual probing about why I hadn't met a nice girl yet and settled down, although the word 'grandchildren' wasn't explicitly mentioned.

We vegged out in front of the telly, but by the time the late evening news had been on I could barely keep my eyes open. I dragged my aching body to the spare room my parents had assigned me - of the two available it was the one with the more masculine decor - and I immediately fell into a deep sleep.

I woke the next morning stiff but otherwise refreshed, but puzzled by memories of a strange dream. No matter how much I tried, I couldn't remember the details, only that it involved the ice maiden. I didn't find any sticky residue so it was far from certain that the dream had been erotic. And although Little Dave had been as stiff as a flagpole when I awoke, it could just have been from a need to pee.

Sunday morning was spent removing the soft furnishings. Apart from the carpets, it was more time-consuming than labour-intensive, taking down curtains and expensive light fittings and the like.

A substantial lunch was forced on me, consisting of Beef Wellington made from the previous day's leftovers. Then mid-afternoon, when everything was cleared out of the two rooms ready for my parents to begin their decorating, I said 'goodbye', got in my car and had another uneventful 3-hour drive home.

Monday I was still a bit stiff from my weekend exertions. Work was mainly anything left over from the previous week, so it was pretty quiet after lunch. I made a point of 'accidentally' bumping into Mark St James, and mentioned I had seen his sister on Thursday.

"Yes," he said, "she told me she had seen you, although she couldn't remember much about that night. She has no recollection of how she got home although she knows she didn't drive because she had to search for her car the next day."

So Donna had told some little white lies. No matter, I wasn't going to rat her out.

Mark continued, "Her company just shut down the office with no notice, the bastards, so all the girls went out and got drunk. I told her I'd give her resume to Personnel if she wanted, but she said no. Don't get me wrong, my sister and I love each other dearly and I'd happily take a bullet for her, but we're very different people with very different opinions and we argue all the time. Put us in an empty room together and World War III would break out within half an hour."

That explained why Donna hadn't sent me her resume.

After work I decided to skip the gym but treated myself to an extra long swim. Following the weekend's beef orgy, I decided I fancied something a little lighter for dinner, so I went downtown to a seafood restaurant. Although a little pricey, the food there is fresh and well-prepared. However, the restaurant has one enormous drawback - the chef/owner is a food snob, and using the excuse of ensuring customers enjoy the flavours of his dishes to the utmost, strong- tasting accompanying drinks are banned. The restaurant serves white wine, champagne, water and some milder types of tea eg Lemon and Earl Grey, but not coffee, cola, red wine or, most importantly from my point of view, beer. Begrudgingly I sipped water with my dinner and, as usual, I filled in a complaint form bemoaning their lack of beer. Then I drove back to Joe's Bar to make up for it.

For some reason I felt bitterly disappointed when I went in and the ice maiden wasn't there, even though rationally there was little reason to expect her. Gary gave me some good-natured flack about cradle-snatching because of Harriet, the college girl I had picked up on Friday, but since her body hadn't been found floating in the river he guessed it hadn't been too traumatic an experience for her. I definitely didn't share any details.

The bar was very quiet so I hijacked the widescreen and switched to the news channel. Somehow the evening had developed a sour taste, but I stuck around for a second beer. A few regulars drifted in, but nobody I would consider for a hookup.

Unexpectedly I felt a hand touch me on the shoulder. A woman was standing by my side.

"Are you looking for a good time?" she asked.

I recognised her as a working girl. I'd seen her in the bar a few times. Not very often, perhaps two or three times a month. Gary permitted her because she was discreet and didn't hassle his customers unduly.

"I don't pay," I warned, looking her over.

She was rather older than me, perhaps as much as a decade. She was conservatively dressed for a working girl and had an excellent body for her age. She had blonde hair but I could tell it was dyed. Dyed blonde hair always seems to look a little wrong, perhaps the hair is too thick to be blonde or the shade is a little unnatural. However her roots weren't showing and it looked as though it was professionally maintained. She was well-spoken and had a classy air about her. I might have been interested if it was free.

"Oh, what the heck, it's dead in here tonight. Tell you what, you buy me a drink, we can chat for a while, and if we like each other, I'll give you a freebie," said the woman. "Call it a date if you like."

It sounded like a quite acceptable offer. The prospect of some good conversation was certainly better than the drivel emanating from the widescreen, and enough to entice me to have another beer.

Gary gave me a knowing smirk when I ordered the drinks, but didn't say anything. The implication that I had to resort to a working girl would be capital for many evenings' humour at my expense.

We found a quiet table away from the widescreen, I introduced myself, then the woman started to tell me her story.

"My name's Lucille Walters, but I prefer to be called Lucy. My husband was killed in Iraq, leaving me with a couple of kids to bring up."

Instantly I felt sorry for her. If she corroborated her story, I'd be inclined to relax my rules and pay after all.

"I'm sorry, money must be tight," I commiserated.

"Actually no. Ron was a wonderful man and an even better husband. He was very good with money and left us well provided for. I'm not over his death and I'm not sure I want to be; I'm certainly not ready for another relationship. But I really miss the physical side. I started doing this as soon as the kids were old enough to look after themselves overnight. They're wonderful kids, very responsible. I tell them I'm having a late night with friends. They have no idea and I'm going to keep it that way."

"Then why the money?"

"It's mainly to make me feel good about myself. It's quite a morale- booster when someone fancies me enough to pay for it."

"A man would have to be dead from the neck down not to fancy you."

"You're very kind, but it gets more difficult with age. Many men only want the young things, barely out of school."

I winced internally. That was pretty good description of Harriet, the college girl I had picked up on Friday.

We chatted for a while longer, Lucy telling me about her son and daughter, who she clearly loved above anything else, and her part- time job as a paralegal. I reciprocated by telling her a little about my work. We had just about reached the bottoms of our drinks when Lucy made a move.

"Look Dave, I hope you don't mind if I'm blunt. I've seen you with several different women and they were all pleased to see you. Chatting to you tonight confirms my opinion that you're a nice guy. I know I'm setting myself up for a fall here, but I'd like to spend the night with you."

"I would like that very much too."

"I can't take you home with me because my son and daughter will be there. I normally take punters to a local motel for overnighters. It's a bit crappy but it's not expensive, it's clean and they don't ask questions."

"How about my place? I have a guest room which is clean and ready," I volunteered.

"Thank you," she said, relieved. "I think that would be much better than a motel." She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.

Lucy normally used taxis so I gave her a lift in my car. The conversation never flagged, in complete contrast to Harriet's nervous silence.

"Do you want anything to drink?" I asked, once we were safely inside.

Her response was to take me in her arms and kiss me, a sensuous kiss involving lots of lip and tongue-sucking on both sides. It certainly roused Little Dave from his slumbers.

"That was nice," she said, "I don't normally do that with clients. Now why don't I take care of that bulge in your pants to take the edge off." She obviously intended to give me a blowjob.

"I've got a better idea. Why don't we do each other at the same time?"

"I'd like that. Most men are reluctant to go down on a working girl."

I led Lucy into the guest room, where we both stripped. Naked, we looked at each other appraisingly. I try to keep myself in reasonable shape and none of my hookups have ever complained. Lucy had nothing to be ashamed of either, her decent-sized breasts having hardly any sag, the nicely rounded tummy framed by silvery stretch marks bearing honourable testament to having born two children. With only a marginal amount of flab on her buttocks and thighs, she had a body which compared favourably with most women ten to fifteen years younger. I also liked the sight of her shaved pussy, although from the obvious maturity of her outer lips and slightly protruding inner lips, there was no mistaking that she was definitely a woman, not a child.

 
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