by Jaye Peaches
Bolognese sauce was the cause of the smell: Rick stood in the kitchen stirring a pan. Since his return from Europe, he had gradually introduced Leah to continental-style cooking: risottos, pasta, and pizza. They shared the kitchen, taking it in turns to cook and he had surprised Leah with his culinary skills.
Over dinner, he asked about her day out with Jane. Leah made no mention of his role in their conversations. His own Saturday had been spent washing and polishing the car. It was lost on Leah how a man could lose so many hours tinkering with a car.
Mealtimes were not the best for broaching difficult subjects with Rick. She had learnt that lesson. She waited for him to fill his stomach and while she washed up, he lounged in front of the television in his favoured armchair. Most of the news bulletins covered the war in Vietnam. Rick claimed to have no love of wars, but he still had an attraction for the military life. It reminded him of his childhood adventures and he listened to the reports of escalating conflict.
She waited for him to sink down, stretch his legs out, and rest his head on the back of the chair. It was easy to sneak onto his lap and curl up, her head nestled against his shoulder. He smelt of cologne and a faint trace of motor oil too. The stubble on his chin, dark and fine, narrowed his features. The growing mop of hair was still slightly damp from his shower.
“Lovely meal, thank you,” said Leah. “Italian food is yummy.”
“Yes,” he said with brevity.
“When you were out there, did you cook much or did somebody cook for you, teach you?”
“I watched others. Why do you ask?”
“I wondered whether you had been taught by a woman, you know, a girlfriend. You don’t mention if you had a girl. Is that why you don’t like to think of Italy?” She broached the topic with trepidation, curling a finger around a button of his shirt. Underneath, Rick shifted uneasily, eyes still on the television.
“No,” he said after a pause. “I did have girls to keep me company. In Switzerland too.”
“Did you spank them too?” asked Leah.
“One girl. She asked me. They were playful, nothing serious.”
“How many girls did you date?” pushed Leah.
“I’m not going to claim I’m a saint. Sometimes it was sexual. Not as many as you think. Italy is very conservative. Girls are expected to be virgins on their wedding nights. My mother may have been a Catholic, but my dad didn’t go in for religion. I don’t feel guilty about it.”
“So no broken hearts?” she asked.
“What’s this about, Leah?” he said sharply.
“I want to know you better, that’s all,” she said, sitting up on his lap. “Why won’t you talk about it?”
“I don’t want to,” he said lamely, his eyes now on her and his arms folding across his chest, blocking her hands from touching him.
“Was it something terrible? Did you do something bad?” she persisted.
“Enough! If you carry on like this, I will take you over my lap and spank you hard!” threatened Rick.
Leah tensed, her stomach churned. “Please don’t be cross with me. I don’t want you to spank me like that. I’ve not done anything wrong. I’m trying to talk to you.” Her eyes welled up with tears, and her hands trembled as she clutched them tight together.
His face softened, arms dropped down, and he took hold of her wrists, pulling her towards him. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to spank you like that either.”
Leah waited. Rick appeared to be thinking, ruminating on her words.
Stroking the back of her hands with his thumbs, he finally spoke. “I can’t talk about Italy, about my job, about anything that happened there, because I swore I wouldn’t. It’s the nature of the work I did. At least a part of it.”
“But something did happen to make you leave?”
“Yes. No more, please, Leah. I’m tired.”
“Let me help you relax,” she said; freeing her hands, she picked at his shirt buttons. Rick rested his head again, closed his eyes, and let her undo his shirt. She slid her hands across his chest, feeling his heartbeats and the firm muscles. His fingers coiled about her head, combing her hair, and it gave her an idea.
She slipped off his lap and slowly began to undress. He watched as she stripped off each layer, until she reached her knickers. With slow deliberate moves, she slid them down her thighs, turning so her bottom faced him and bent over. With a flick of her wrist, the knickers flew across the room.
Naked, Leah swaggered across to Rick with her hands on her swinging hips. She found being nude, bare and on display, while Rick remained fully clothed, immensely erotic. Nothing flickered across his features, only his hazel eyes showed any reaction: the blink as she hovered before him, tempting him. Determined to break his resistance further, she lifted her hands to her nipples and began to roll them between her fingers. As they became firm and erect, she moaned appreciatively, sensing the sparks flying in her loins, her thighs quivering.
“Go on,” said Rick seductively.
One hand took a journey southwards, towards the apex of her thighs, seeking out her clit. Her fingertip circled, exposing, teasing and drawing out the small bud. Her little show brought her close to completion, but Leah didn’t want it to end, not yet. Her hand dropped away, leaving her clitoris unfulfilled, aching, and sensitive.
Kneeling at his feet, she parted his legs and crawled into the space between them. His face broke out into a gentle smile of recognition and his hazel eyes stared at her intently.
She found his semi-erect cock and held it in her hands, caressed the shaft, ringing it with her fingers, then she traced her tongue from fuzzy balls to smooth tip. The veins gradually began to show as blood filled his organ, swelling it and making him rise up stiff. His member held her fascination as it twitched, darkened, and beckoned to her. Opening her mouth, she lowered her head, forcing herself deeper than ever before, letting him touch the back of her throat.
The television remained on. The news was gone; instead it was the sports commentator reading out the football results. His voice rose and fell as he listed the scores, one after the other, in a repetitive tone. Leah mimicked his speaking, rising up and then dipping down, taking her time to explore, enjoy, partake of his taste, his special flavour. From the slit to the leathery texture of his shaft, she rolled her coiled tongue about him.
The pace was slow, almost languishing, and it caused Rick to moan. She glanced up with just her eyes, seeing him, head tilted up to the ceiling, hands gripping the armrests and his feet planted firmly to each side of her. It would be torture for him: the slow, delicate tickles of her tongue, the smouldering kisses of her lips, her hands cupping his aching balls. She pictured herself naked, kneeling at his feet, worshipping and the vision sent waves of sharp tingles throughout her body, which was a litany of desire and desperation. Her nipples erect, clitoris calling out to be touched, pussy hole to be plundered and her body manhandled for his pleasure.
It was too tortuous for Rick. Her scalp stung with a sudden sharp pain. He had grabbed her hair, twisted it tight in his fingers, and captured her head for his own use. Now, she was a vessel, a mouth and his to control. She relaxed her neck, opened her mouth wider, her throat too and let him drag her on and off his mammoth cock. It filled every part of her mouth, leaving no room to breathe and her saliva trickled out of the corner of her mouth.
His hands let go and her head sprung up, gasping for air.
Rick looked down at her, a broad smile on his face. “Nice,” he said.
He watched her clamber back on his lap, place her legs astride him and hover about his upright cock. She clung to the back of the armchair, stared into his magical eyes. He tilted his head forward and found a nipple. Two lines of teeth clamped on to her pink little pebble and held it tight. She felt the sharpness, the sting of near pain and kept quite still. Letting go, he rolled his tongue about the nipple.
The other nipple received the same treatment. Knowing it was coming made her stomach muscles ripple with
anticipation; her pussy clenched and she squeezed her eyes shut until she felt the tiny bite.
“Oh, fuck… oh, fuck,” she muttered under her breath.
“No cussing,” he warned, releasing her nipple. “The next time you swear, I will spank you, Miss Leah.” This was a different threat. Not like the previous one, this one she didn’t mind.
“I’ll be good,” she said.
Hands cupped her rounded breasts. Though they were small, Rick had told her he loved them, the perfect snug fit in his hands. He massaged them with the palm of his hands, rotating them round, pressing them into her chest wall. Leah went to swear again and bit down on her lip instead.
Leaning over him, she wanted more. She had to have all of him, feel him deep inside. Astride him, poised ready to strike, she lowered her body on him. She paused as her coated labia spread about his apex. Knelt waiting, she rocked her hips, letting him enter and then withdraw. She arched her back, thrust her breasts towards his face, and let out a low growl.
“What are you doing, Miss Leah?” he said softly, his hands back on the armrests.
“My turn to drive,” she said wickedly and then sat down heavily on him, imprisoning his entire erection in one swoop.
“Oh, fuck!” she screamed.
Chapter Nine
After her second curse, Rick had the excuse he needed to take her over his knee and give her a much-needed spanking. A playful spanking they would both enjoy, the kind they had taken to ever since she had opened up about her desires at the beach. He greatly preferred those types of spankings as they gave him the chance to play with her, touch her intimately, and use his fingers.
Leah treated him to a game of resistance, refusing to lie over his lap.
“I shan’t!” she said petulantly, looming over him, her breasts jiggling right in front of his eyes and her hands on her hips. It didn’t rile him; she had a big cheesy grin on her face.
She initially held back until he grabbed at her, pulling her across as she squawked at him.
“Brute!” she panted, kicking her legs.
“I warned you about cursing,” he responded, pushing her over a knee. However, the moment he had her pinned down under his other leg, she acquiesced, rocking her hips from side to side in anticipation.
“Naughty girl,” he chided, rubbing a finger between her cleft.
“You’ll have to spank me, if you want me to be good,” she teased and he obliged with a few handprints on each milky buttock. She wriggled, squirmed, and giggled too as he landed each slap. Her cheeks—both on her face and on her bottom—flushed pink by the time he finished. Her vocal cords remained active, not with words, but strange little noises of appreciation as he pried her legs further apart and rimmed her pussy with his eager fingers. Unable to resist, he probed her sexy holes between smacks, spreading her shimmering juices about her glowing bottom.
Releasing Leah, he had discovered spanking made her extremely pliable and willing to be taken further. The rug beneath their feet—made from soft sheepskin—formed a natural bed and he carefully manhandled her onto it, positioning her on her knees. With legs spread wide, bottom raised and upper torso nestled in the soft animal hide, she invited him in with her gaping entrance. Somehow, she had nurtured an athletic ability to mould her body, bend and shape it to his needs. Manoeuvring her about, he fucked away, keeping her under him at all times so he could see her rouged bottom and the oozing wetness leaking about his cock. He remained mindful of her vulnerability, ensuring he could judge her willingness to comply with his forceful thrusts, the depth of his penetrations, and the firmness of his grasping hands.
Her orgasms were explosive, uncontrollable, and he felt her copious juices drench about his cock. He watched her claw at the rug on the living room floor, unashamedly debasing herself. He spilt himself deep inside, but didn’t feel completely requited—the need remained, if a little tempered by fatigue. Seeing her drift in a haze of post-coital delight, lounging on the sheepskin, letting the softness caress her skin, he fingered his cock, willing it to come back to life again. Leah, powerless to move her exhausted legs, was carried to bed and there they continued in the same fashion: sex, cuddles, and occasional swats when she was cheeky with her words.
* * *
Waking up, Rick lay on his back in bed, his arms tucked behind his head and a broad grin of satisfaction on his face. The morning light shone through the fabric of the curtains, brightening up the bedroom. Next to him, Leah was curled up into a tight ball, fast asleep.
Satiated by a night of frenzied sex, he sprawled his body across the bed, thinking about breakfast. His stomach rumbled and he had a fancy for a cooked breakfast.
For afters, he had formulated a plan. Something different for their Sunday, something he hoped she would enjoy.
* * *
The first surprise of the day for Leah was the car parked in the driveway: her midget MG.
“I’m not allowed to drive,” she said as they left the house.
“I know, but I can,” he said, opening the passenger door for her.
“I don’t understand,” she said. She hadn’t forgotten how small the car was after the luxury of the Mercedes.
“You’ll see. Patience, Miss Leah,” said Rick.
Formalities were returning; it meant she had to be on her best behaviour. He slotted himself behind the wheel, adjusting the seat to allow his legs to stretch before him. He had opted to wear sunglasses, even though the sun had disappeared behind the clouds. There was no sign of rain.
“Where are we going?”
“Ormskirk. Near Ormskirk,” he clarified.
The town lay further north, inland, so that meant it wasn’t the beach. “You’re not going to tell me.”
Rick grinned. “Nope.”
The landscape opened up into fields and villages. She rarely headed into Lancashire. A few trips to Manchester, London, and one to Paris with her mother. She would love to travel further afield.
She fidgeted, restless in her seat and a little nervous about his secret plan. Rick drove right through Ormskirk and onwards to a small village and then he pulled off the main road onto farm tracks. They passed a few farmhouses, barns, and tractors, unfamiliar territory for Leah. She stared out of the window, peering at the view ahead. Over the tops of the golden cornfields she could see larger buildings, some made of brick, others of metal sheeting, great barrel-shaped structures.
Not a soul could be seen, the land deserted and covered in overgrown grass and untamed nature. A rabbit shot across the road in front of them and above their heads, a sparrow hawk cruised, waiting for some suitable prey.
“What is this place?”
“An aerodrome.”
That was the second surprise of the day.
Rick turned the car off the farm track onto a wide stretch of tarmac, heading in a straight direction for nearly a mile.
“It’s a runway,” announced Leah, recognising the features. “Is this an old RAF base?”
“Actually, it’s naval.”
Rick drove towards one of the largest structures, a dilapidated hangar. Its curved roofing with slanted sides formed a covering and the frontage was blocked off by large sliding full height doors. The steel structure struggled to stay intact after years of neglect and weathering.
Leah laughed. “We’re nowhere near the sea!”
“It was used to store aircraft during the war, while the carriers were in docks at Liverpool.” The car halted in front of the huge hangar doors. There were gaping holes in the corrugated walls, grey and rusting, with massive weeds growing up around the base.
“How did you find this place?”
“Those old seamen at the hostelry. Full of tales. I asked if they knew of any old airfields I could use.”
“Use for what?”
Rick switched off the engine, turned to face Leah, and took her hand. “Don’t be nervous. In two weeks’ time you get your licence back. You’ve not driven for six months, you need a refresher. The runaways aren’
t part of the public highway; you can drive here without a licence. When you get back on the road in this car, I want you to drive safely, at the correct speed and be able to control this vehicle.”
“Oh,” she said, opening her mouth in a round shape.
“What did you think I was going to do?” he said, cocking his head to one side.
Leah brushed the hair out of her eyes. “Nothing.”
“Let’s get started. Swap seats.”
For the next hour, they drove up and down, turning the sharp corners of the opposing runaways at various speeds. At the start he criticised her gear choices. Leah glared and huffed, until he reminded her to watch her tongue. Then there were exercises in reversing, emergency stops, and parking.
“I did take my driving test!” said Leah. “I passed first time.”
“Hm. Perhaps the examiner was looking more at your legs than the road,” remarked Rick.
He found, lying by the runaway, discarded fuel cans and spaced them down the middle of the tarmac.
“Slalom. Weave in and out without touching,” he instructed.
“This is easy,” she said confidently.
It wasn’t. He had put them quite close together and she struggled to make the turns. Twice she came close to clipping a barrel. He didn’t berate her or lose his temper. He remained calm and made suggestions in a placid voice, helping her improve her clutch control so she didn’t grind the gears.
Leah enjoyed her little lesson, the thrill of being behind the wheel once again in her own car. At first she resented Rick and the implication she was a bad driver, but then she had noticed how rusty she had become with her driving abilities. Her shifts weren’t exactly smooth and her steering jerked. Listening to his soft voice, firm and clear, she quickly improved.
The voice did other things to her. It summoned up her inner emotions, the sexual ones she suppressed during the day, while at work. Those hidden desires crept to the surface, especially when he patted her leg and told her she had done well. Towards the end of the hour, she became cockier, brasher with her ripostes to his comments. He played along; she thought he liked them, understood why she was doing it.