Freya St David, 10 – Goddess Of Love Songs

 

Freya St David was a pretty nurse, slender and pale with strawberry coloured hair and stood barely five feet tall.

She was a district nurse and on that particular day her first call of the day was on the fifteenth floor of a tower block called Gladstone Court.

Her patient that day was Ben Lewis, a sergeant in The Downshire Light Infantry who had been severely wounded by an IAD in Afghanistan and was a double amputee.

His wounds had all but healed but that wasn’t where his problems lay.

Freya’s job was to manage his medication and massage what remained of his legs or more accurately his stumps, but when she started visiting him Ben’s main problem was a near terminal case of self-pity and low self-esteem.

 

Twenty-seven-year-old Freya looked much younger, and she was a first-class flirt.

And for a long time, flirting was as far as she went until she found out that all the time, she was being faithful to her boyfriend he was shagging her best friend and from that moment on she took her pleasures where she found them.

And it was such pleasures that restored Sergeant Lewis’s will to live.

 

On that day although her schedule was very heavy in the morning she didn’t mind too much as she had the afternoon off, but it was with a little sadness that she approached the Lewis flat for the final time.

There was no confrontation with the neighbour’s on this occasion as she walked along the landing, though she did notice the curtain twitch, so Freya turned and smiled.

The last time she was there she was verbally abused by the wife who, completely unprovoked, called her vile names and warned her to keep away from her husband.

She didn’t even find the man particularly attractive and as a result, and to her great shame, and totally out of spite, she shagged the husband.

 

“Good morning” she said when Mrs. Lewis answered the door

“Hello dear” she said “my word its busy this morning”

“Yes?” Freya said

“Oh yes dear” she confirmed “We have a real house full”

“Well, it’s my last visit today” Freya said

“I know dear” Mrs. L said “We’ll miss you”

 

Freya went upstairs and knocked on Ben’s door 

“Come in” he called

“Morning sarge” Freya said and then realized he was not alone

“Hi Frey” Karen said and kissed her.

Karen was Ben’s fiancé and credited Freya for restoring Ben’s will to live.

Though I doubt if Karen would have kissed her if she’d known how she achieved it.

“Hello Karen” she said

But there was someone else in the room also who had caught Freya’s attention.

“This if my CO” Ben said “Captain Hardman”

“Pleased to meet you Captain” Freya said

“Jonathon” he said and shook her hand

Freya liked him, his handshake was firm, his handsome face was warm and open, and his voice was like honey on her ears.

“Jonathon” she said

Then Karen and the Captain left nurse and patient alone.

 

When she returned downstairs after discharging Ben and having finished the paperwork for her final visit and having said her goodbyes to Ben, she was disappointed to find Captain Hardman had left, Freya was very taken with him.

So, she said her farewell to Mrs. Lewis and got on her way because after her rounds she had the afternoon off to get ready for the Summer Ball.

After lunch Freya went home and changed before going out to have a manicure, pedicure and a facial which took most of the afternoon but not as much as she thought so on the way back home, she called in at the Boazman’s in Carrington.

James was a lonely, soon to be widower as his wife was dying.

They weren’t patients on her NHS list but were serviced by a private nursing agency that Freya was moonlighting for and she was doing some additional servicing of her own on the side.

 

James Boazman was a good-looking man in his early forties slim and even elegant and he always smelt gorgeous.

And despite his great wealth he was sad and lonely, sad because the woman he loved was dying and lonely because of his self-imposed imprisonment in his home.

Freya had approached the problem with her usual finessed skill set and let him shag her.

And she had been letting him shag her for several weeks.

She thought sex with James was a very pleasurable experience, but she did wish he would be more dynamic and take the lead.

 

“Come in” he said, and Freya walked in as invited.

But it was no more than a minute or so after she’d taken off her coat before he was on her and he took her firm young body in his arms.

He kissed her as he fumbled inside her sweater and quickly rummaged his way through the scant layers until he reached her bare flesh and then moments later, he had his hands on her little tits.

In response to his unexpected, yet welcome assault, her hot mouth was clamped over his and her darting tongue explored every inch of his mouth and she snorted noisily through her nose.

Then Freya’s mouth, lips and tongue kissed and licked and nibbled their way to his ear as James’s hands were yanking her leggings off her buttocks and squeezing the pliable cheeks until his hands were entering her knickers and dragging them off her plump cheeks as well.

Once her knickers and leggings were at half-mast James turned his attention to moister fare and his fingers dallied briefly amidst her lush bush, and Freya stopped tonguing his ear and looked at him earnestly before giving him one of her dirty smiles and his finger slipped inside her crease.

Her smile widened and her eyes rolled back into her head as he roughly fingered her.

Freya was pinned against the wall with her knickers around her thighs as he frigged and she was loving every second of it, but she was ready now, she was so ready.

James must have sensed it because he turned her to face the wall

and slid his left hand across her soft belly and gripped her right hip firmly and lifted her small frame off the ground to bringing her waiting wetness up to the height of his waiting shaft and gripping her tightly with his left arm he offered his erection up to her eager loins.

Freya gasped as he penetrated her,

“Oh God James”

He continued to support her weight with his arm wrapped around her middle and her legs dangled and swung like she was a rag doll.

She was moaning uncontrollably as he went at her,

Getting ever closer to the threshold she panted through gritted teeth and he grunted on every stroke until it ended with Freya’s scream of satisfaction and they both collapsed to the floor.

“You see James that’s what happens when I let you take the initiative”

The annual Summer Ball at the Abbottsford Regents Hotel was for health employees of the town and its environs.

It was always a grand affair; Dinner jackets and evening dresses were compulsory.   

Freya was wearing a knee length emerald, green dress that hugged her figure beautifully and her shoulder length Strawberry blonde hair was down, so it danced around her nape as she walked,

Freya was a small girl; stick thin, with small breasts though in that beautiful emerald, green dress it appeared she had no bust line at all, though her nipples were clearly visible through the fabric.

She had well defined hips and an arse to die for, with stunning legs clad in black, her shoes were green to match her dress.

But at five foot tall in her stocking feet even four-inch heels failed to make an impression on her diminutive stature.

“Hello” he said, “its nurse St David isn’t it?"

“Yes” she replied “Freya”

Despite the fact she had only met him the once, and briefly at that, she recognized him instantly even in a dinner suit.

“Hello Captain”

“Call me Jonathon” he said “or Jon”

“No uniform tonight Jon?” she asked

“I love a man in uniform” and then she inexplicably blushed she never normally blushed when she was flirting.

In her head she chastised herself for behaving like a schoolgirl.

She was 27 for god’s sake so start acting like it, and whatever you do don’t ask…

“Are you here with someone?” she asked

“Yes and no” he replied

Freya only heard the word yes and was very disappointed

“I’m here with my brother Bob” he continued.

"Bob?" she asked

"Yes Dr Hardman"

“Oh, I see" Freya said

She had heard the name but didn’t know the man personally.

That wasn’t important, the Captain was "alone" and that was.

“I was sorry to have missed you at the house this morning” she said

“Yes, me too” he agreed “But I had to get back to camp, the Regiment is deploying again”

"Oh" she said "when?"

“Tomorrow” Jon replied

“Tomorrow?” she said disappointed again “you can’t say where I suppose?”

“No”

“But nowhere nice?” She asked

“Definitely not somewhere nice” he agreed

A comfortable silence settled around them and Freya’s mind drifted.

Freya really liked him, if she didn’t like him so much, she could have given him a farewell shag to send him on his way, but she didn’t think it appropriate even though she fancied him.

He wasn’t one of her normal potential conquests, even though they had only met that day she felt he was worth more than a knee trembler in an alley.

And Freya wanted more than a kneetrembler in an alley

“Would you like to dance?” he asked

“Love to” she replied

Jon took her hand and led her to the dance floor, and they danced through “I’m not in love” by10cc

“James Blunts “You’re Beautiful”

Barbara Streisand’s “The way we were”

“I will always love you” by Whitney Houston

And Fleetwood Macs “Albatross”

When Jon was tapped on the shoulder, he relinquished his hold on Freya and turned around

“Come on bro” a man said “it’s time”

“Ok Bob” he said “I’ll be right there”

Bob nodded and walked towards the door

“I’m afraid I need to go” Jon said

“I understand” she said    

“It was nice seeing you again” he said

“Perhaps when I return, I could call you?”

“Yes” Freya said “I’d like that”

And then he was gone.

Choice Tales from the Vale – (015) Birthday Girl’s

 

Emanuela Petrescu and Catarina Langella lived together in a two-bedroom flat above a parade of shops in Childean and apart from the fact they were both 27 years old and female they had absolutely nothing in common at all.

Emanuela was Romanian and was a doctor at the Winston Churchill Hospital and Caterina was Italian and was a hairdresser at Mazzone’s in the parade of shops she lived above.

They liked different food, listened to different music and wore different clothes.

The flat was owned by Mazzone’s and Caterina and another girl from the shop, Isabella, split the rent but when Izzy got married it left Cat in a hole, so she put an advert in the Chronicle and Ema was the only applicant and apart from the fact they were complete opposites they had lived together for 18 months and it had worked out perfectly.

 

Ema was tall and slender with brown hair and dark eyes and she made Caterina cross because she didn’t make the best of what she had, she didn’t go overboard with makeup and wore clothes that she was comfortable in rather than what made her look good.

Caterina had less to work with, she was shorter, plainer and chubbier than her flatmate with mousy hair and a big nose but she always looked immaculate, which hadn’t gone unnoticed by Ema.

Not that Caterina was aware of that until the day after her birthday.  

 

Emanuela had been on call at the Churchill on Cats birthday and had been out after work for a leaving party and as a result she had come home in a taxi slightly the worse for drink.

Caterina was in the bath when she returned and when she came out she was wearing a towelling bathrobe and a towel turban on her head. 

On seeing her flatmate all freshly scrubbed and pink Emanuela immediately rushed towards her. 

“Happy birthday draga mea” she said and threw her arms around Caterina exaggeratedly and hugged her

“Thanks, Ema” she replied and hugged her back

Emanuela however didn’t release her grip on the little mousy Italian girl and in addition began nuzzling her neck.

Caterina felt a little awkward but didn’t really understand what she was doing, that is until she started chewing her earlobe.

“I don’t...” she began but in response Ema’s lips were over hers and her tongue immediately explored her flat mate’s mouth.

Caterina was shocked as she had never been kissed by a girl before and she certainly didn’t expect it from Ema and as far as she was aware, she had given her no encouragement or indication that she was that way inclined, which she wasn’t.

But despite all of that Catarina still found her tongue was exploring Ema’s mouth with equal enthusiasm and encouraged by her response Ema untied the belt on Catarina’s robe.

Cat’s mind was in a turmoil, she wanted to stop but she couldn’t, all of her life Sex had always left her cold, and unmoved with no heat or passion but after Ema had delivered Sappho’s kiss she was on fire.

She had always put down her indifference to the act to a low sex drive but as she and her flat mate embraced, she wondered if in reality if she could have been driving in the wrong direction, was it conceivable that the secret of her sexuality was finally unlocked.

It was the first time she had felt such a kiss, the first time she’d felt that way in response to a kiss, but it had never occurred to her that she might be gay.

“Nonsense” she said in her head “I like George Clooney”

Yet her tongue still busied itself inside Ema’s mouth and her hands were inside Caterina’s robe and then those hands fondled her breasts and all thought of protestations were dispelled from her mind.

With a hand on each breast Emanuela pushed her back against the wall and withdrew her tongue from Catarina’s mouth and pulled her lips away, but Cat’s lips pursued Ema’s mouth like a hungry bird.

But Ema eluded her as her mouth had another goal and began kissing her freshly bathed skin, smelling of coconut, beginning at her neck with kisses as soft as a butterfly’s wings, down her chest, and then she kissed her breasts.

Caterina bit her lip in anticipation as Emanuela tongue was flicking around her nipples until that delicious moment when she took her pink proud nipple in her mouth and head was swimming and her legs trembled and when she felt Emanuelas hands on her naked buttocks they buckled, and she slid down the wall.
Emanuela reluctantly relinquished her nipple and rolled her onto the floor and went to work on the other one.

Catarina layback with her eyes closed and her mouth open in anticipation of the moment she longed for and when she felt Emanuelas un-manicured fingers brushing lightly across her damp mousy bush she gasped and when those unfeminine fingers touched her intimate femininity in loves sweetest caress, she emitted a moan akin to a purr and she finally knew her true self.

 

 

 

BERNADETTE FROM BLACKHEATH

I remember my very first girlfriend

Bernadette O’Flahety was her name

She was ever so slightly unattractive

But she was my girlfriend all the same

 

She was considered quite the looker

Where she was born in Blackheath

Despite the very large warty nose

With the ginger moustache beneath

 

She did have a face like a smashed crab

Or perhaps like a bag full of spanners

She had tufts of red hair under her arms

Like a pair of nesting ginger hamsters

 

They say that beauty is only skin deep

So, she must have had hers on inside out

She’d a funny eye so that one looked

At you and the other seeked you out

 

She was best viewed in a dimmed light

Preferably from distance to be unkind

It was best not to see her naked form

But tackle her in the dark from behind

 

She had hairy legs and even hairy nipples

Her shape wasn’t curves so much as sags

She carried at least three spare tyres

And had breasts like roof tiler's nail bags

 

Bernadette's complexion resembled

Two-week-old cold lumpy porridge

She had Denis Healy bushy eyebrows

Accentuating the prominent ridge

 

She was older than me by a little bit

And she had been around the block

And it would be more than fair to say

She had too many miles on the clock

 

Bernadette was a bit of an old banger

You could say in more way than one

But on a those long cold dark nights

She was also a real bundle of fun

 

My brother said unkindly, the poor girl

Must have fallen from the ugly tree

And making matters worse she had hit

On the way down a branch or three

 

The excessive cellulite on her thighs

Made them look and feel like tripe

She had a number of boils and sores

And her skin was of the greasy type

 

And yes, it’s true that she did have a face

Like a well smacked arse bless her

Or a bulldog chewing a wasp but then

I was no oil painting or Adonis either

 

And perhaps she was not what a mother

Would want to choose for her son

But Bernadette was quite acceptable

For a shy young man to practice on

Freya St David, 09 – Goddess Of Wealth

Freya St David was a pretty nurse with strawberry coloured hair, and despite the fact that she was barely five feet tall and looked like a breadth of wind might blow her away, she was very strong and full of self-confidence.

But it hadn’t always been that way when as a young girl she lived in the village of Tipton in the northern most part of the county.

Freya was twenty-seven years old but looked much younger and she was a first-class flirt.

But flirting was as far as she ever went until she found out that all the time, she was being faithful to her boyfriend he was shagging her best friend.

From that moment on she took her pleasures where she found them.

 

She was a district nurse by profession but on that particular day she was supplementing her income with some private work.

She worked through an agency and did a wide variety of roles, evenings and weekends, the only thing she refused to do was work at the Churchill Hospital where she worked out of, as she thought that was taking the piss.

Freya was on her way to a private house on the outskirts of the Village of Carrington.

It was a big Art Deco house built in the thirties, very elegant and very stylish.

But for its owner James Boazman it had become like a prison because even a gilded cage was still a cage.

He was a good-looking man in his early forties slim an even elegant and he always smelt gorgeous.

The reason for his imprisonment was his wife’s illness.

Freya’s role in regard to Amanda Boazman was palliative care although she was very far along and barely conscious.

Freya was the night shift and apart from managing her medication she just had to sit with her.

It enabled her to nap quite a lot so as not to impact on her day job, she was fortunate in one respect that she had never slept for more than 6 hours a night in her life.

 

It was about three o’clock in the morning when Freya woke from a dose, she checked the patient and decided to go and get herself a drink.

She crept quietly down the stairs so as not to disturb Mr Boazman.

Freya tip toed her way down until she was startled by a sound, she stopped and listened and then carried on.

As she approached his study, she noticed a light under the door.

When she got closer, she could see him seated at his desk.

“Hello Mr Boazman” said Freya

“Is everything alright?” he said startled

“Yes, I was just getting a drink” she replied

“Are you ok?” she asked and entered the room and approached him.

“If you’re having trouble sleeping, I can give you something” she said

“I’m fine really” he said

“I don’t think you are” Freya said and sat herself on the corner of his desk “So come on out with it”

He didn’t say anything immediately, but Freya noticed he was staring at her legs, and then he realised she had noticed.

“Well, I’m ashamed to say it but…. I’m bored”

He admitted

“I can’t go out and leave her, but I can’t have people over here either”

“It’s not just that though is it?” she said as she noticed his eyes on her legs again.

“No” he agreed and proceeded to tell her the root of his problem which all boiled down to the fact that he was horny, and he wasn’t getting any.

All his wealth and nobody was wetting his whistle.

This development was not expected and as she had awoken from her doze a little moist herself was not entirely unwelcome.

But whether a man too principled to pay a prostitute to come to the house and service him would be unscrupulous enough to shag his wife’s nurse was the big question.

She decided to put him to the test.

 

As he had shown such an interest in her legs, she would give him something more tantalizing to look at.

As she sat down her skirt had rucked up at the back and she knew it would not reposition itself.

She could see in her peripheral vision that there was a book on the far corner of the desk.

Freya stood up and in one fluid movement turned around and reached across the desk to retrieve the book.

This she managed to achieve with the bulk of her skirt still rucked up which meant Mr Boazman had a great view not only of her lovely legs but also most of her arse.

“So, what are you reading?” she said in no hurry to return to the perpendicular.

He didn’t answer, so Freya thought he must have been digesting the view.

She threw a little glance over her shoulder and saw that he had wheeled his chair slightly to his left to give him a completely unhindered view of her display.  

"Dickens" he said in answer to her question just as she was wondering quite how long she could stay in that position.
"Not long" was her conclusion just as she felt his hands on the back of her thighs.
His fingers were spread wide, and his thumbs pointed upwards towards the prize as they moved slowly northwards.  

"That’s nice" she said encouragingly and relinquished her hold of the book.

"It’s beautiful" he responded as his palms reached her fleshy cheeks.
Freya was bent over the desk with her full weight on her palms wondering if he would have the initiative to take advantage of the situation just as James relinquished his hold of her arse.

Freya thought the worse and feared his conscience had got the better of him.

But he had only ceased his fondling in order to raise the hem of her uniform halfway up her back.

He then ran his hands up to the waistband of her tights and yanked then smartly downwards in such a swift movement not unlike the magician’s tablecloth trick and her knickers came down with them.

So, with her knickers and tights safely around her knees Freya was assured to get something for her trouble but precisely what she was about to get she did not know.

Out of Freya’s line of sight James had undone his trousers and was sat in his chair with his erection in one hand while the other resumed its fondling of her buttocks briefly before nonchalantly slipping an inquisitive finger between her juicy lips almost like checking the oil level on your car and Freya let out an acquiescent moan in response.

And when his finger came out wet, he positioned his chair as close up behind her as possible.

“Come on then" he commanded and with his powerful hands on her tiny hips he encouraged her towards him.
Freya who still had both hands on the desk pushed herself up and then with his guidance lowered herself onto him.

If he had been in any doubt up to that point that she was experienced she dispelled them instantly as she rose and fell on him, rising almost to the very tip of him and then all the way down.

Freya was experienced but this position was new to her, he grunted and moaned beneath her as she rode him, and it felt wonderfully dirty.

 

Afterwards Freya reflected on the event and felt she had done a good turn, he would at least sleep well even if he would have a betrayal on his conscience.

Freya was well satisfied with what she had given and what she had received.

James was a passive partner, but Freya thought that with a bank holiday weekend approaching when she was due to do three twelve hour shifts she would have time enough to cure him of that.

Choice Tales from the Vale – (014) An Innocent Voyeur

It was a hot sultry summer afternoon in the village of Sharping St Mary, only a few miles from Purplemere, and only that morning 20-year-old Caroline Danville had returned to her home from University.

Although she had actually left University a month earlier, she had spent that month with her mother and stepfather in Bushy Down.    

She was supposed to be there for another two days, but her stepfather Graham had begun to get on her nerves, not that she disliked him or anything like that, he was harmless enough he was just a bit of a fusser and she didn’t like to be fussed over.

So Carrie, as she was known to everyone, had left early and was sitting in a quiet corner of the garden, in a shady and secluded spot.
She preferred the shade and couldn’t abide the sun, and it wasn’t overly fond of her.
She had pale ginger hair and fair delicate skin to accompany it, so she could either keep herself covered up or stay in the shade.

So, she was laying on a picnic blanket in a bikini, hidden from view and lost in solitary thought.

Carrie had been out in the garden for a little under an hour when she noticed her stepmother Julie walk slowly across the lawn from the house, she liked Julie and she had liked her from the very beginning, she was younger than her dad but 15 years older than her and she had been her stepmother for five years.

It was a very large garden with trees and shrubbery in abundance on three sides and a huge lawn in the centre where Julie spread out her blanket.

The garden being very private, and with her husband away on business and Carrie not due back until the weekend, Julie thought she was alone.
Carrie was about to shout “hello” but stopped herself when Julie slipped off her dress to stand naked on the lawn, with arms stretched above her head like a goddess and then she pirouetted like a ballerina, showing her magnificent well-toned and well-tanned body to the birds and the bee’s in her secluded surroundings.
Julie was a tall willowy woman with long legs and lithe limbs, her perfectly proportioned breasts moved delightfully as she continued to dance, celebrating her nakedness and offering herself to the sun.
Julie suddenly stopped her homage to Terpsichore and laughed as she ran her finger through her vibrant brunette hair, then she lay down on the blanket.
Carrie was again about to speak and make her presence known, but found herself unable, or unwilling, she was mesmerized by the tableaux that lay before her, and she found herself a little aroused.
Which surprised her greatly, not being so inclined, not being of that persuasion, not being a disciple of Sappho.
“What harm can it do?” she thought to herself, to look on with no fear of discovery.
Carrie was a reluctant voyeur but the opportunity presented itself and so she took it.
Where, was the harm in watching a beautiful woman sunbathe naked, it didn’t mean anything.
But then Julie started to touch and caress her nakedness.

 

Julie started to touch and caress her nakedness, first her breasts, which caused Carrie to look away slightly embarrassed, but her curiosity drew her back and her arousal heightened as she saw Julie’s long, elegant fingers comb through her lush pubic curls and descend between her lips.
Carrie watched Julie’s busy fingers, spellbound and her arousal grew deeper with each stroke of her stepmother’s slender digits.

Carrie was so engaged by Julie’s erotic tableaux that she found her own fingers rubbing her own pussy through her bikini and when Julie’s body arched in climax Carrie let out an involuntary yet audible squeal.
Julie glanced over in her direction and their eyes met and Julie smiled while Carrie blushed.
Julie sat up and beckoned to Carrie in a wordless invitation to join her.
Carrie arose from her place of hiding and her legs felt weak as she walked tentatively to join her step mum and Julie was standing by the time Carrie reached her.

She was about to speak, to apologize for spying on her, for intruding on her privacy and for enjoying her intimacy, but Julie put a finger to Carrie’s lips to silence her, and Carrie could smell Julie’s musk upon it. 

Julie’s hand then caressed Carries cheek and ran her slender fingers through Carrie’s fine Reddish Blonde hair and pulled her head towards her, and kissed her.

Carrie had never been kissed by a woman before and her first thought was to back away, but she couldn’t move, so as Julie’s lips grew closer, she opened her mouth and received her step mothers tongue and for the first time Carrie enjoyed Sappho’s sweet kiss.

It was a kiss like no other kiss she had ever had, her boyfriend David never kissed her like that, and he had never made her knees go weak.

There were still no words between them only smiles when the kiss ended and Carrie offered no resistance when Julie removed her bikini top, exposing her pert little breasts and stiff pink nipples, nor did she flinch as Julie’s hands untied the strings of her bikini pants.

Julie took the garment in her hand and the moisture in the fabric and held it to her nose and inhaled Carrie’s sour scent.

Carrie looked to the ground and felt herself blush from head to toe which made Julie smile.

She dropped Carrie’s wet musky pants on the ground and then took hold of her hands and guided her onto the blanket.

“I’m not a lesbian” Carrie said

“Neither am I sweetie” she replied as she laid Carrie down on the rug where she kissed her.

First on the mouth hot and heavy then gentler on her neck, her chest, her breasts.

Julie dwelt upon her breasts and sucked slowly and deliberately on her swollen little nipples as Carrie was lying with her hand on her head and her eyes shut tight as the electricity of each of Julie’s kisses tingled through her young body.

Julie left Carrie’s stiff saliva-soaked nipples and proceeded to kiss her way down to her quivering belly pausing only to flick her tongue into her navel which made her jump.

For the rest of Julie’s journey Carrie’s hands grabbed fistfuls of blanket and her tight young arse squirmed as she anticipated Julie’s ultimate destination.

And as Julie’s cheek brushed against her ginger bush Carrie parted her thighs so she could enjoy Sappho’s most intimate embrace.

Freya St David, 08 – Goddess Of War

Freya St David was a pretty nurse, slender and pale with strawberry coloured hair and she stood barely five feet tall.

She was a district nurse and on that particular day her first call of the day was on the fifteen floor of a tower block called Gladstone court.

Thankfully the lift was working so she didn’t need to yomp up 15 flights of stairs.

Her patient that day was Ben Lewis, a sergeant in The Downshire Light Infantry who had been severely wounded by an IAD in Afghanistan and was a double amputee.

His left leg had gone below the knee and his right just above.

His wounds had all but healed but that wasn’t where his main problems lay.

Freya’s job was to manage his medication and massage what remained of his legs or more accurately his stumps but when she started visiting him Ben’s main problem was a near terminal case of self pity and low self esteem.

 

Twenty seven years old Freya looked much younger than her years and she was a first class flirt.

And for a long time flirting was as far as she went until she found out that all the time she was being faithful to her boyfriend he was shagging her best friend and from that moment on she took her pleasures where she found them.

And it was such pleasures that restored Sergeant Lewis’s will to live.

 

On that day although her schedule was lighter than usual she wasn’t expecting a prolonged visit with Ben, as since her success at putting lead back in his pencil, the fiancé was back on the scene and benefiting from Freya’s good works.

 

As she walked along the landing a couple were just leaving the flat next door and as was her habit she smiled and said

“Good morning”

And genuinely expected the customary response of echoing the greeting but instead got something quite different.

“I’ll give you good morning you ginger slut” she bawled

“You keep your eyes off my husband”

Freya was not, despite her diminutive stature, averse to the idea or indeed the execution of launching the gobby bitch over the balcony but instead chose something that would enrage her even more.

She did think to say that if she wanted her husband she’d have him but thought that might be too inflammatory.

As she stood on the doorstep waiting for Mrs Lewis to answer the door.

She gave the husband another smile, this was accompanied by a long languid appraising stare followed by a wink.

And the man’s wife launched into a tirade of abuse which was made worse by the fact Freya smiled at the woman as she was raging.

The poor husband had to physically restrain her and manhandle her towards the lifts.

The last thing she was expecting when she said good morning to them was to be verbally abused and warned off to stay away from her husband by her patient’s gobby neighbour

In truth Freya hadn’t really looked at her husband and when she did look him over after the event she didn’t think he was anything special, but her curiosity was aroused.

Just then Mrs Lewis opened the door.

“Hello dear” she said

“I see you’ve met the neighbours”

“Yes” Freya said still smiling “she’s a colourful character”

“Well her language is” Mrs L said and then added “He’s nice though”

 

When she left the Lewis’s about forty minutes later she saw the gobshites husband walking back towards her.

Despite her smiley response to the initial assault Freya was actually quite hurt.

She’d never thought of herself as a slut, admitted she was not shy when it came to sex and the number of her sexual partners had grown of late but she didn’t see herself as slutty.

She was a bit angrier now the insults had sunk in and she was up for a fight so she braced herself.

“I’m sorry about earlier” he said completely disarming her. “My wife is very jealous and it makes her a bit crazy”

“Where is the pit-bull?” Freya asked

“At work” he replied

“Come in for a coffee, by way of an apology”

She was going to politely decline his offer but then she thought how mad the pit-bull would be if she knew she’d been alone in her flat with her husband, so instead she replied.

“That would be nice, thank you”

 

They sat in the kitchen and Freya was feeling very pleased with herself she didn’t really want to be there and he was as uninteresting to talk to as he was to look at but it gave her a buzz.

She looked at her watch and drained her cup and was about to leave when the phone rang.

“Excuse me” he said and went out to the hall to answer it.

Freya stood up and was about to put her coat on when she realised the conversation was getting a bit heated.

“No I wasn’t ogling her” he said and paused

“I didn’t notice” 

“Was she?”

Freya was aware it was about her because the pit bull was shouting so loud.

She couldn’t make it all out but she recognised words like ginger whore, skinny slut, boney bitch.

And that just made her mad again so she decided to get even, so she slipped off her coat.

 

After hanging up the phone he walked towards the kitchen door and prepared to apologise for his wife all over again but suddenly hesitated in the doorway as he caught sight of the skinny ginger slut sitting on the kitchen counter completely naked and fingering herself.

He stayed out of sight not because he didn’t want to embarrass her but because he didn’t want her to stop, so he did the ungentlemanly thing and watched her through the crack in the door.

Freya knew he was there and knew he was watching her and enjoying it and she wasn’t fazed or embarrassed as he finally walked into the kitchen, nor did she stop what she was doing as he approached.

“My wife wouldn’t like this, she wouldn’t like it at all” he said walking up to her and kissing her full on the mouth.

“She’s not going to get it”

Freya responded still fingering her crack.

But with her free hand she unzipped his trousers and tugged his engorged organ out through the opening.

Which was no mean feat one handed because although he was ordinary looking and uninteresting to talk to he had a very interestingly large cock

“I know you were watching me” Freya said “How long were you there”?” she asked between kisses

“Long enough” he replied

“Oh yes it is” she purred still holding his cock and tugging it towards her waiting pussy.

When he was inside her she hooked her skinny legs behind his arse and locked her arms around his neck and let him fuck her hard on the kitchen counter.

 

As she rode the lift down to the ground floor she was smiling as she thought about the not unpleasant nor unsatisfying shag.

It was not the best despite the size of his tool, she had had but she was glad she had done him in the bitch’s kitchen just to spite his gobshite wife.

It lacked finesses or even much technique it was just primeval sex, on the whole she thought she would not repeat the experience and decided the pit-bull could keep him.

The pit-bull declared war on her but Freya was victorious.

Choice Tales from the Vale – (013) A Man to be Trusted

“Take care of her?” said Winifred Hawkes-Holland as he opened the driver’s car door.

“Will do boss” Harry replied giving his passenger a wry smile as he got behind the wheel.

“I’m not a child,” Clare shouted petulantly out of the open window “and I don’t need babysitting”

It was certainly true to say that Clare Hawkes was not a child, far from it.

No one who ever saw the 25 years old would ever have described her as such, childish, possibly, but not a child.

After all Clare stood an inch short of six feet tall which was evidence of adulthood in itself but if that didn’t convince you then her long legs, voluminous rolling hips and a 44” bust would.

No, Clare was not a child, but her mother, as mothers always do, would always see her thus. 

But Winifred Hawkes-Holland wasn’t merely Clare’s mother she was also her employer.

Holland brothers bought and sold Antiques and collectables, a business that Winifred married into and now Clare was going on her first solo-buying trip.

Even though technically she wasn’t going solo and it would have been her maiden trip but for the fact Harry Mortimer was sent with her as a babysitter.

Harry had been with the Holland’s since he left school and he was greatly trusted by Win.

And as he was in his early forties and unremarkable looking and was to all and sundry average in all respects she trusted there would be no shenanigans.

Suffice is to say Winifred trusted her precious daughter was in safe hands with Harry Mortimer. 

 

On the journey from Northern Downshire all the way down to Finchbottom, Clare was still berating Harry on her mother’s distrust of her.

“It’s not that she doesn’t trust you,” He said

“She doesn’t seem to realise that I’m a grown woman,” she continued

“We are all aware you are a grown woman” Harry said and after pause added

“Well aware”

Clare looked at him and raised her eye brows

“So what have you noticed?” she asked with amusement

Harry blushed to his roots under her gaze

“Nnnnothing” he stammered

“Come on Harry” she pressed

“Just that I have noticed that you are no longer a child” he replied

The rest of the journey passed largely in silence with Clare admiring the countryside while occasionally sneaking glances at her driver.

 

They stopped that night at the White Horse Inn in Finchbottom and spent the evening in the restaurant where Clare drank more than was good for her.

Harry thought she had been in a strange mood since the journey down and kept looking at him in a funny way. 

But Clare was drinking too much, and she was flirting and he had never seen her do that before, and he couldn’t let it continue.

If he did, her mother would not consider that “Taking care of her”

“Come on party girl” he said “bedtime”

“Oh goody” she said draining her glass

 

Accompanied by outrageous flirting and downright suggestive behaviour Harry steered her up the stairs

“Up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire” he said and when they reached the top he headed towards her room at the end of the corridor.

 

When they got to her door Clare announced

“Honey! I’m home”

Harry propped her against the doorframe as he unlocked the door and she began kissing his neck.

“Behave yourself” he said and gave her a playful slap on her bum.

“Oooh are you going to spank me Harry?” she asked

“Get in there young lady” he said and guided her through the door

“I love it when you’re all masterful” Clare responded and wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to kiss him.

Harry managed to avoid her lips at the last second as the door slammed shut behind them and they performed a strange ungracious waltz into the room.

“Here we are young lady,” he said as he prepared to lower her onto the bed

“Bedfordshire” Clare said gleefully, and span Harry around then pushed him backwards onto the bed and she kicked off her shoes and jumped on top of him.

Harry began to protest but her soft lips and hot mouth clamped over his and her tongue was like a serpent.

Harry’s resistance lasted less than a minute, after all he had dreamt of that moment since she was 17.

His hands began to claw the shirt free of her waistband and then with great urgency she sat upright and pulled the shirt off over her head and threw it aside.

Her hands trembled as her fingers fumbled at his shirt buttons but when she had accomplished her task she ran her fingers through the hairs on his chest.

And those same trembling hands that caressed his flesh went behind her back and unhooked her bra.

Harry was looking at her face while her hands were on his chest but the moment her hands began unfastening her bra his eyes stared at her harnessed breasts and as the tension around them relaxed he reached up and pulled the bra off and discarded it and revelled at the sight of Clare’s great round breasts then she leant forward and delivered them into his waiting hands and her mouth returned to his.

Her breasts were rising and falling and Harry could feel her heart pounding in her chest and her kissing became more intense.

She sat up again and hurriedly undid his trousers and then climbed off him and dragged his trousers and pants off.

Harry raised himself up onto his elbows as Clare wriggled out of her jeans and then tantalizing slipped off her panties to reveal a neatly clipped triangle of black hair.

And when she climbed back on him she didn’t hesitate for a second before expertly enveloping Harry’s shaft with her welcoming wetness. 

Clare was on him and he was at her mercy as she rose and fell on him and on each fall Harry grunted his appreciation as his hands groped her buttocks.

As Clare raised the tempo her panting came in coarse rasping breaths, each one coarser and more guttural than the one preceding it, until she cried out in orgasm.

After Clare had ridden Harry to an exhausting climax, the sweating panting beast with her raven black hair in wild disarray and eyes wide with primal lust smiled a smile of lasciviousness.

“Do you think this is what your mum meant when she said, “Take care of her”?” Harry asked

“Oh yes I think so” she said “and when you recover you can “take care of me” again”

And Harry took care of her every day they were on the road and on future trips Clare always insisted on having her babysitter with her in order to “Take care of her”.