Choice Tales from the Vale – (017) Bedding Bendy Wendy

 

Tom Haggerty lived in a quaint Tudor cottage in a quiet suburb on the posh side of Childean.

He was fifty-Two years old and recently widowed and immediately after his wife’s death he seemed to suddenly appear on the radar of the local spinster’s, widows and divorcees in and around his own age.

In fact, it all started at his wife’s funeral where he was buttonholed by two well-presented mourners who made it perfectly clear he could avail himself of them if he chose to do so.

But it was many months after his dear wife was laid to rest and only after repeatedly rebuffing the endless advances of even the most attractive of the local pursuing vamps that he finally decided out of desperation and loneliness to dip his toe in the water and bump uglies with some of the local “talent”.

And those salacious liaisons went on for some time but as enjoyable as they were his heart wasn’t really in it, but he would probably have continued nonetheless but for a providential collision.

When quite by chance on one damp miserable day he met Wendy in Tesco’s car park after a minor fender bender.

She was a very beautiful woman, tall and willowy with long light ginger hair, and a smiling freckled face.

Wendy was a much younger woman than Tom had of late been involved with, in fact she was a considerably younger woman than he, whom at the time he looked upon her merely as a casual observer, although he thought she was attractive and shapely with her Lycra outfit doing nothing to hide her assets, he completely overlooked the fact that he was a man and she was a woman, because he believed she couldn’t possibly be interested in an old man like him.

And although they laughed and joked and she flicked at her hair flirtatiously he was flattered but for him it was a nonstarter, the stuff of cheap fiction, or so he thought at least, but in time he was to find out that he was wrong.

 

It was a warm summer Saturday afternoon a few days after the accident when Wendy knocked on his door.

“Oh hello” he said doing a double take when he recognised the beautiful smiling young woman, not dressed in Lycra or with her hair up this time, but her ginger tresses flowed free and she was wearing a summer dress, and very little else as far as he could tell.

“Hi Tom” she said and flicked her wayward hair off her face.

“This is a surprise” he said

“I wanted to make sure you were ok” Wendy said and proffered to him a bottle of wine “And apologize again”

“There really is no need” Tom insisted

“I thought there was”

“Well, this is very kind of you” he said “but I can’t accept it unless you join me in drinking it”

“I thought you would never ask”

“Well, you make yourself comfortable on the patio and I’ll get some glasses” he said

So, Wendy walked out through the French doors while Tom went into the kitchen and got two glasses from the cupboard and after opening the bottle of Pinot, he poured two generous glasses of the wine and headed towards the patio.

He stepped outside with a glass in each hand, but his uninvited guest was nowhere to be seen, at least not at first.

Tom had assumed she had just taken a turn around the garden while she was waiting and was about to put the glasses down and go in search of her when she suddenly came into view.

“You see I made myself comfortable” she said as she stood on the edge of the patio with the greenery of the garden behind her wearing a bracelet on her wrist, rings on her fingers and a smile on her face and absolutely nothing else.

He returned her smile and then his eyes began to view her in detail beginning with her ginger tresses, streaked with gold from the sun which he followed as they hung down to her naked plump white breasts, adorned with pale pink nipples.

They then travelled down over the topography of her white flesh, from her pronounced ribs, flat belly, narrow waist, and bony hips until they settled on the ginger tuft of pubic hair pointing the way to the gap between her skinny thighs.

“So, I can see” he replied still holding the wine glasses, and then she began to walk towards him.

Well, if the vision of her standing naked had mesmerised him it was nothing in comparison to the view of the naked Wendy when she set her gorgeous body in motion.

She walked slowly and deliberately getting the maximum movement into each delicious step, making her skinny hips roll which in turn made her plump little tits move in unison. By the time she reached him his mouth was open and his arousal was stirring in his shorts.

Wendy dealt with both of these things in turn, first by putting her mouth over his and invading it with her eager tongue, and with the second by wrestling it from his shorts and gently pulling on it.

Tom was unable to prevent either of these actions as he was still holding a glass of rapidly warming wine in each hand, not that he wanted to.

As her bony fingers stroked along the length of his bone, she removed her mouth from his and gave him a broad confident smile before sinking to her knees where her beautiful smile enveloped his swollen organ.

After some prolonged and expert ministration to his cock she was again on her feet in front of him with the same confident smile on her face.

Wendy relieved him of one of the wine glasses and drained it and said

“You can join in now”

Tom took her by the hand and put his glass down on the table as he led her into the house.

His intent was to bed her upstairs, but Wendy intervened and pushed him onto the sofa where she climbed on his lap and impaled her ginger pussy on him.

Tom felt faintly ridiculous having a 23-year-old girlfriend and had a feeling of extreme amazement and delight, though more amazement if he was completely honest.

His wife Mary would have laughed like a drain if she could have seen him with a girl, she would have considered a child, he really missed Mary.

The sex with Wendy was amazing and made his toes curl and also made his cock stir just to think about it and without wanting to be disloyal to his late wife’s memory it was probably the best sex he’d ever had, no that wasn’t true it was definitely the best sex he had ever had or was ever likely to have.

She was supple, agile and pliable in fact she was really quite exceptionally bendy, he even called her bendy Wendy, and she had near inexhaustible stamina.

But even though Wendy was as horny as hell and a more than accomplished sexual partner she was unfortunately duller than ditch water.

She was “fun” to be with when he was benefiting from her expertise, but her company wasn’t stimulating other than in the obvious way.

Any red bloodied man not in his position would have thought him quite mad for wanting to end it.

But she had no conversation and was the very definition of vacuous.

Gorgeous, sexy, horny as hell and truly accomplished in the sexual arts, but as dumb as a stick.

 

The truth was that Wendy did not meet all his needs other than the physical.

What Tom wanted was someone like his wife, someone who loved him and who he could love and more importantly talk too.

Someone who knew that Muffin the Mule wasn’t a sexual offence, someone who didn’t think Mr Pastry was a 1960 version of Paul Hollywood and a woman who remembered a time when you had to get up to change the TV channel.

Wendy was not the answer to this want.

Nor could she fill his desire for some nice gentle love making and an affectionate cuddle, some grown up conversation.

Wendy was not someone he could fall asleep in front of the TV with, so he decided to end it.

 

He went outside to break the news to Wendy but when he saw her in the garden squatting naked by the side of the ornamental fishpond Tom thought to himself “ok just one more fuck then”