by Jade West
My heart dropped and it wasn’t just the village rumours. I didn’t even know what it was anymore.
“I’ll leave you to it,” I said. I turned away, but he reached me in the doorway, his fingers on my wrist.
He spun me around and his face was in mine, his breath hot. “I fucked up with Mandy Taylor. I fucked up and now it’s round the whole fucking village, but I’ll sort it, alright?”
A knock at the front door and a trample of feet and wolf-calls. I didn’t need to look to know it was Hugh, Jimmy O and Petey come to join the gathering.
“Just sort the rumours, Darren,” I said. “For the girls.”
He nodded.
I adjusted his bow tie, smoothed down his shirt and let out a sigh. “This is so fucked up,” I said.
“Life’s fucked up, Jo.”
I sighed. “Then you’d better just go nail the shit you’ve got to nail, hadn’t you?”
He gave me a nod, and stepped away. And I missed him. I missed his body as hard as I’d missed him in the beginning, when I could barely fucking breathe because it hurt so bad. It was crazy, and ridiculous, and so fucking over, but it hurt like a bastard, right in my gut.
His eyes caught mine. “You alright?”
I smiled. “I’m good.” I let the feeling pass, pushed through it. “Just do what you’ve got to do, Darren.”
“Righto,” he said.
I followed the guys outside when they went, and they looked a picture. Five suited studs, all set to service some rich cow or other.
Seeing them together made my tummy tickle.
They’d been working out, all of them. Seeing them all suited up made it so obvious.
Hugh smiled at me and gave me his best. He was a silver fox, in his late forties, but still quite the dish. I wondered how his wife felt about this shit, but didn’t ask, just smiled and gave him mine back.
Jimmy O still looked like a wiley coyote, even in a tux. His curly dark hair blew loose over his eyes, and made them even darker, more mysterious. His eyes ate me up, his smile dirty. I felt it between my legs.
And Petey. Cute little Petey. His cheeks were glowing and his smile was bright. I could already see the tent of his cock in his trousers. The whole thing must be a bit much for a youngster like him.
They climbed into the back of the truck, and Buck climbed up front, leaving me with Trent to say my goodbyes.
“So, this is it?” I smiled. “This is your bang gang?”
He smirked. “One face of it. The rest is mainly sweat and oil.”
“Where you off to?” I quizzed.
“Cotswolds.”
I sighed. “Then you’d better go. I’ll head back home.” I met his eyes. “Just be careful, Darren. Don’t…”
“Don’t what?”
“I dunno,” I said. “Just don’t do anything stupid.”
“Bit past that now, Jo.”
He climbed up into his seat, lit a cigarette and turned the key in the ignition. I listened to the roar of the engine as it started up — a beast you could hear through the village. It suited him.
“I’ll be seeing you,” he said, and put his foot down.
I watched him out of sight, watched that truck until it left the village straight and disappeared from view. I watched until there was only the cool autumn evening left to watch.
And then I sat on his steps to catch my breath, wishing I had a cigarette of my own to smoke.
Moreton-in-Marsh. A classy little place at the heart of the Cotswolds, with quaint stone buildings and posh signage and Hayley Friar’s latest menswear boutique.
That’s why we were dressed up like prize pissing poodles — her big opening night bash. That and the fact Hayley loves her bit of rough trussed up in pretty packaging. We’d been doing this gig since last summer, once a month without fail. Her downtime she called it. Her little break from the prissy little store owner she made herself out to be.
The shop was still full, people going gaga over fancy silk ties and her other high-end shit. She was at the back, fawning over some couple who’d whipped out the gold card. The guy had a toupee like a squashed hamster. His girlfriend was a fucking model, legs up to her neck. That about sums up this place, and sums up the circles Hayley Friar schmoozes in.
I gave her a nod and kept my distance, pointing the others over to a quiet space by the window. Jimmy O held up some swanky shirt with ruffles, twirling around with it like a daft fucking prick. He was still doing it when she made her way over.
She took the hanger from him, placed it back on the rack with nothing more than a shake of the head.
“You polish up well,” she said, and her eyes were all over us. All over me. “Suits you, Trent. You too, guys.”
Did it fuck.
I gestured to the crowd. “This shit wrapping up soon?”
“Very soon,” she said.
Hayley Friar’s very soon was over two pissing hours long, but I forgot all about that once she turned the open sign to closed and lowered the shutters. Her sparkly white dress was fitted and fine — and on the floor at her feet in two seconds flat.
She stepped out of her knickers and flashed a grin.
Hayley was mid-thirties, tops. Perky little tits with pointy nipples. A thin line of hair between her legs that didn’t match the auburn on her head. Makeup that runs like a fucking dream when she’s gagging on dick.
“Where do you want it?” I said, my hand already on the swell in my pants.
She beckoned us over with a laugh, hitching her ass up onto a low display table in the middle of the store. She cleared her pretty little tie rack in one swoop and kicked a pile of shirts onto the floor along with them. Then she laughed.
“Fuck me,” she said. “And make it hard. I’m so sick of all this pretentious shit. I’m sick of being a good girl!”
My dick twitched as she gathered her heels up onto the edge. Her fingers were at her pussy, her head lolled back as we closed in. Her cunt was sopping, nipples like bullets, mouth nice and wide as she sucked Jimmy’s dick into her mouth — he always gets straight fucking in there. Hugh was latched onto one tit and enjoying the fuck out of it, so I nudged Petey to the other. He was still nervy, still on edge, still needing direction every five fucking seconds. Like any of us were there to hold his fucking hand.
I took my cock out and dropped to my knees between Hayley’s thighs. Her cunt was so fucking ready, knees falling open like the wanton whore she loved to be. She moaned around Jimmy’s cock, squirming on the table as I lowered my mouth to her pretty wet slit. Her pussy was like a fucking peach. I tongued her with tight little flicks, nice and steady until her legs were twitching. I pushed two fingers inside and she bucked her hips, reached for my hair and held me there.
She sucked in a breath as Jimmy’s dick plopped from her mouth.
“Fuck yes!” she hissed. “Fuck me, Trent! Fuck me!” She tugged at my hair, her fingers raking my scalp. “Fucking fuck me!”
Dirty bitch.
Buck took her fingers and wrapped them around his thick dick, held them tight as he thrust away in her hand. I pulled my fingers from her cunt and moved them to her asshole instead. She tensed and wriggled like a fish on a line, that tight little hole opening up nicely.
Hayley likes to take two at once. One in the pink, one in the fucking brown. She’s used to this shit — takes two dildos at home, so she tells us.
I slipped a johnny on and went for the pink. She felt good. Really fucking good. Her legs wrapped around my waist and demanded more, demanded harder, demanded every fucking thing. She choked and spluttered on Jimmy’s cock and the dirty bitch in her turned feral.
“Give it to me!” she ordered. “All of it! Make me fucking take it!”
Jimmy did make her take it, pinching her nose and ramming her throat deep and hard. Her cheeks billowed and she squirmed, her legs gripping tight as I rammed that sweet cunt and spit-roasted the shit out of her. Her hand was still on Buck’s dick, and she reached out for Hugh’s with the oth
er.
Jimmy gave Petey a tap. Offered him turns. Between them they fucked Hayley’s dirty mouth until her mascara was a train wreck, and I gritted my teeth, pulled out of her pussy before I shot my load.
I rubbed her clit off again — rough and fast this time, in the way I’d come to know she craves. She came for me with a retch and a groan, her legs kicking out as I worked her on through it.
“My turn,” Buck grunted when she’d tipped over the peak. I moved to one side and he pushed into her in one thrust. Fuck, how he pounded her.
I squeezed at her tits until she arched her back, flicked at those stiff nipples with my tongue. Jimmy changed position, fucked her throat until she quacked. And then I made my move.
I took her by the waist and lifted her up, and the guys moved without being told.
Buck took her place on the table, and I dropped her sopping pussy right back onto his cock.
She moaned and groaned and rode him like a fucking pro until I pushed her forwards and jammed my thumb in her asshole. She stilled, panting ragged breaths.
I smiled at Petey. “Get up here, lad, and get a fucking johnny on it.”
He scurried over. His hands were shaking as he ripped into the foil.
“Fuck her ass,” I said. “That’s what she fucking wants. Hey, Hayley?”
“God yes! Fuck me!” She squealed as he pressed his cock to her hole. “Do it!”
The lad fucked her, and fucked her good. His balls slapped against Buck’s underneath and he didn’t give a fuck, just kept fucking ploughing her. He fucked hard, and so did Buck, stretching that dirty bitch wide open between them as she cried out for more.
Petey didn’t last all that long. He came with a groan, his cheeks flushed, and Jimmy O was straight in to take his place.
I took Jimmy O’s spot after him, and her ass was well and truly fucking ready by that point. I barely had to push inside, but being in there was fucking bliss. I circled my hips to spread her wider, and she rolled her hips with me.
“Yes…” she hissed. “Oh God, oh fucking God…”
I wrapped her hair around my fingers, pulled it until her back arched. “Is this fucking dirty enough?”
She nodded. “Fuck yes!”
I breathed into her ear. “Gonna fuck you until we’re all fucking done. That what you want?”
“Yes!”
The pressure built in my balls, the urge to shoot my load threatening to take me. Buck was feeling it, too. His thrusts were frantic.
“Fuck!” he groaned. “I’m fucking done!”
He shot his load and bellowed like a beast, and the jerks sent me over the edge, too, sent me coming hard inside Hayley’s hungry fucking asshole as Hugh emptied himself in her mouth.
End of round fucking one, and we switched it up.
Fingers on her clit as she took us one by one, and the bitch came over and over, her pussy so fucking pink and raw. Her asshole was a fucking pleasure, slack and hot and hungry for cock. Her mouth was fucking insatiable, her dirty moans egging us on.
Fuck, how we took that dirty bitch, and she loved it, she fucking loved it.
We held off on the final load until she’d had her fill — we knew her game by now.
When she’d flailed through one final climax she held up her hand for time out, a big dirty grin on her sweaty face. When she was ready she dropped to her knees in the middle of the store and opened wide as we pressed into a circle around her.
I focused on her gaping mouth, all smudged and dripping with spit, working my cock hard until my balls were tight enough to blow all over again.
I shot my load right onto her filthy tongue and she ate it all up, then smacked her lips for more.
There was plenty more.
Four fucking loads more.
I left the foray before they were done. I gathered up my used johnnys and tossed them in the bin. I’d straightened up my clothes before the others had even finished up.
I was done. Job complete. Balls empty.
Customer satisfied.
Don’t think about Trent. Don’t think about Trent. Don’t think about Trent.
I herded the kids through bath and bedtime, and made sure Nanna had taken her tablets before I sat with her to finish up her evening TV.
“Well?” she said during the advert break. “Did you sort things out with your Darren?”
I shrugged. “Nothing to sort, Nanna. We just… I said thanks for the washing machine.” I gave her my don’t-be-ridiculous eyes. “He’s not mine to sort.”
She chuckled to herself. “So I keep hearing…”
I held my breath — half expecting to field gigolo questions raised by over-the-fence gossip — but she let out a sigh at the end of her crime-drama and made her way to bed. Maybe she didn’t know… I could hope.
Once Nanna was tucked up for the night, I resumed my regular schedule. I wiped down the kitchen worktops, fed the cat for the twentieth time, sorted school lunchboxes and cleared the scrubbed-out baking pans away. It was late when I finally dragged myself to the machine to sort out the Trent-washed laundry. I did this while totally not thinking about him and his five man gigolo outfit, of course.
I sorted the kids’ blouses, then the socks, then the miscellaneous whites before I faced the inevitable, embarrassing confrontation of my underwear pile. Oh Lord. I cringed afresh as the full horror of the granny pants hit home, and it seemed so much worse now, now that I’d seen him — the one I was definitely not thinking about. Definitely not thinking about at all.
I definitely wasn’t thinking about how kind the years had been to the man I was definitely, definitely over.
Definitely.
Totally over.
Anyhow, it wasn’t just the passage of time that had served Trent well. No. It was the gym — sweat and time and effort. That and a fat wedge of cash from a string of loaded women like Porsche-bitch, no doubt. I bet she had nice knickers. I bet she had nice everything.
I looked through my pitiful pants collection. Some had holes. In at least one pair the elastic had snapped. One pair was still vaguely blood-stained. All of them were grey and tatty and thoroughly unattractive. That’s when it occurred to me that I might be too…
Ouch.
Super ouch.
Was I grey and tatty and thoroughly unattractive?
I scoffed the thought aside. Porsche-bitch has time to look great. Porsche-bitch probably has nothing better to worry about than looking great.
I could look great, too. If I really wanted to. I had makeup, I could put a face on any time I felt like it…
I fished my cosmetics bag from the odds-and-sods drawer. My heart dropped to find the situation was worse than expected…
One cruddy foundation — congealed around the top. Lid missing.
One blunt eyeliner pencil.
One neutral glow palette of eyeshadow — half of the colours missing, the other half broken and crumbly having been stabbed with an applicator. Thanks, Ruby.
Two lipsticks. One was just a paltry stub left in the bottom. One was so red I’d never even tried it.
Had it really been that long..?
Yes. It had been that long. The occasional night out down the local with Tonya had turned into a Christmas-only event. Ladies-who-lunch had become a makeup-less affair, hair scooped up in a pony after the school run.
Brian hadn’t cared a toss about my makeup through the two piss-poor years of our relationship… Hadn’t cared about my hair, either… or sex, in fact…
Or me…
Big pants had become a thing of comfort — bumper packs of five with standard white bras were easy-peasy. They covered my baby podge nicely. And who was there to worry about now, anyway? Who would ever see them? Not even Brian… not since I’d ditched the loser last winter.
Trent. He’d seen them.
And it smarted. The embarrassment prickled my chest. Shit.
He’d seen my ugly, stained knickers and now he was off fucking some rich bitch who probably had stylists
to choose her panty-stash for her.
In a moment of madness I crumpled up those gross knickers and tossed them straight into the outside bin. My makeup bag followed soon afterwards.
I slammed the lid with a satisfying thump.
Good fucking riddance.
Late night shopping at the 24-hour supermarket was surprisingly calming. The aisles were empty and the music was loud, and I wandered freely through the clothes and makeup section without hindrance. A strange sense of guilt washed over me as I contemplated my purchases — some irrational mantra that said if I wasn’t buying it for the kids it wasn’t worth buying at all. But I was worth it. Surely I had to be worth it?
I picked up a handful of frilly knickers and a couple of matching bras. I grabbed a tight little teal V-neck that showed off the dip of my waist and a smaller pair of jeans to go along with them. A pair of low heels that wouldn’t totally destroy my feet through the day at the cafe. Some foundation, and an eyeliner that worked. A decent lipstick, too. A new eyeshadow palette, with green and gold and blue. It was a start.
My heart was thumping as I went through the self-scan checkout, shoving my card in the reader before I could change my mind.
It felt exhilarating, and indulgent and strangely naughty. It felt good.
I sang along to the radio on the way home, hoping that everyone had slept through my late night disappearance. They had. Of course they had. They weren’t babies anymore, weren’t glued to me 24/7. They had Nanna, and Mia was almost old enough to babysit herself. It was only me who worried about leaving them, worried about going out for five minutes and not being there.
Only me who worried about everything all the time.
Back at home, I tried on my new undies and scoped myself out in my wardrobe mirror. Sure, I had a belly podge, but show me a mother of two kids who doesn’t. The rest of me looked pretty alright. I’d lost weight without realising it, and admittedly I didn’t have the ass I’d had a decade earlier at sweet nineteen — but it was still fairly pert and curved in the right places. My waist dipped in enough to give me a half-decent shape. My thighs were a little wobbly but who really cares? And my tits… well… they looked so much better in a decent push-up bra.