Connections
A short story by Penman
Andrew leaned back in his seat and watched, in a state of total relaxation, as the scenery flashed past outside the window. The comforting white noise of wheels racing along continuous welded rails and the low murmur of conversation amongst neighbouring fellow-passengers combined to induce a state of mind in which his thoughts wandered far beyond the surrounding countryside. This was his first day away from home in several weeks and he was travelling with no purpose in mind other than to get to London and follow his instincts for the day before taking a late evening northbound train home. He closed his eyes and drifted into the semi-trance state into which some passengers fall so easily in such situations.
It is strange how certain low level sounds can break through considerably higher levels of background noise, but a distinctive 'ping' from Andrew's android 'phone aroused him from his dream-like state and brought his thoughts quickly into focus.
"E-mail from noodle", his display announced.
He smiled, clicked on the icon and opened up the message.
"Hi, Skim, sorry I didn't get back to you sooner but my sister rang while we were chatting online yesterday and that's why I had to go so suddenly. Hope you're having a good day. Keep in touch. Noodle x."
Andrew smiled and re-read the message. So typical of his friend. Plain, straight to the point, no frills. She had always maintained that the way she wrote was a reflection of her whole appearance and nature, but something about her told Andrew, who was by no means ignorant of people and their ways, that this was probably a case of serious understatement. He had often been tempted to ask her for her real name, a photograph and her mobile number, but they had agreed early in their online friendship that they would only exchange such details if they ever planned to meet. All Andrew knew about her was that she was 34, divorced and living with her cousin, also that she worked in what she described vaguely as 'Customer Services'. This did not stop him from being extremely curious as to how she had come by the name 'noodle', which had led to a considerable exchange of wisecracks and witticisms between them in online conversations that dated back several months, to the day when Skimble (an abbreviation of one of his favourite literary characters, 'Skimbleshanks, the Railway Cat') had finally made up his mind that noodle was, in fact, genuinely a female and not, as many of the other owners of female nicknames and profiles appeared to be, a female impersonator.
Andrew's fingers moved with impressive dexterity across the miniature keyboard.
"Hi, noodle. Knew something like that had happened. Hope everything's OK with you. Don't worry. Sure we'll be able to get back to chatting soon. Have a good day. Keep in touch. Skim."
Again, his android pinged at him, but this time simply to confirm that noodle had received his message. He was just about to re-enter the dream world from which she had awoken him when a second 'ping' announced the arrival of another message.
"Tks, Skim. I'll send you an e-mail later today. Been meaning to for a while. Noodle."
The idea of returning to the railway reverie had now evaporated. This was most unlike noodle, but this Andrew regarded in a positive way. He quickly brought his thoughts under control before they leapt ahead of the prudent course that was so characteristic of their host. He closed the cover on the android and returned it to his inside pocket.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the train running is approximately three minutes early and is now approaching London Kings Cross, where it will terminate. Please make sure that you take all your personal belongings with you when leaving the train. We hope that you have had an enjoyable journey with East Coast Trains today and we hope to see you again in the near future. Please remember to mind the gap when stepping down from the train."
Andrew realised that he must, after all have dozed off. As he awoke, he realised that the train was slowing down, sufficiently for him to recognise the name of Finsbury Park station. Already, his fellow passengers were beginning to create congestion in the aisle and the vestibule, so Andrew decided to sit tight until most of them had alighted. After all, there was no hurry.
By the time he emerged onto the impressive new station forecourt at Kings Cross, the sun had taken control of the weather and everything looked promising for a good day. Where should he start?
The sun remained in charge all day, so Andrew decided that it would be a great waste to spend the day indoors; instead, he headed down to Charing Cross and onto the Embankment, heading for the Thames river cruises pier at Westminster.
London looks very different from the deck of a river cruise-boat and Andrew listened intently to the informative, sometimes hilariously funny commentary delivered in a true Cockney accent that was not always easy for people from more northern parts to understand. He absorbed the changing scenery, the world famous architectural and historical landmarks, took several photographs and hardly noticed the time passing as the vessel made its way out to the Thames Barrier, before heading back to Greenwich and on to Westminster. By the time the vessel came alongside the pier, Andrew had but one purpose in mind and, as soon as he had disembarked, he made his way to a small Italian restaurant about which his cousin had told him, in a narrow alleyway leading up from the Embankment and along the eastern side of Charing Cross station. An hour later, he was off again on his rambles around London. He decided to forsake the Underground and 'buses and to see something of the capital on foot.
It was a weary Andrew who made his way eastwards along the Euston Road in the middle of the evening. It was coming up to 20:55 as he reached the magnificent edifice of St. Pancras International Station. Over an hour before his train departed from across the road, at Kings Cross. Perfect! Time for a quick bite before heading for the train home.
Walking along the Undercroft at St Pancras, Andrew was, as always, surprised at how many people were still milling around. Clearly, a Eurostar service had just disgorged its load of passengers from the Continent and these were now heading off in their various directions, mainly towards Kings Cross/St Pancras Underground station.
Andrew made his way along the Undercroft, towards the entrance to the low-level First Capital Connect platforms. As he approached the escalators leading up to the East Midlands Trains platforms, he became aware of a youngish woman in what appeared to be considerable distress. Ever the knight in shining armour, Andrew navigated his way through disinterested passers-by and approached her. It was something of a surprise to him to find that it was a woman who worked for the same organisation as he did, although he could not put a name to her.
"Hi, anything I can do to help?"
The distressed woman looked at him with what appeared to be total panic in her eyes. However, she recognised him straightaway, even though she could not put a name to him either. She looked at her watch and dropped her bag onto the floor.
"Shhh......"
Andrew frowned and then adopted his usual pragmatic approach.
"I'm Andrew, I know I've seen you before but we work in different departments."
The woman looked back at him with the expression of someone who is just becoming resigned to the prospect of total disruption of her plans.
"Hi, Andrew, I'm Nuala, I work in Customer Services."
Andrew smiled in a way that was quite effective at defusing high-stress situations.
"What's the problem, Nuala?"
"I can't find the return half of my ticket. I was delayed getting up here and must have dropped it in the rush. I know I had it when I was on the Underground 'cos I checked."
"What train were you heading for?", he enquired.
"20:55 to Sheffield", she replied.
Andrew looked at the train departures display. "20:59" it glared back at him.
"How far were you travelling?"
"Sheffield", came an almost tearful reply.
Andrew suggested that a few moments to gather thoughts and make a systematic search for the ticket might help so, after a visual sweep of the area, he and Nuala made their way to the Travel Centre. Andrew suggested that Nuala sit at one of the tables and make a thorough search while he looked into her travel options.
The news was not particularly encouraging as it transpired that Nuala would only be able to travel as far as Derby, from where she would have to take a taxi to Sheffield. Nuala went very pale. Again, Andrew adopted his re-assuring expression.
"I'm f***ing stuffed", Nuala gasped in what was obviously desperation.
Andrew raised his eyebrow then returned to re-assuring mode.
"Maybe not, Nuala. I have an idea...."
For some reason, Nuala, normally extremely guarded when men were concerned, felt quite at ease with Andrew and she only offered minimal protest when he suggested that she travel north to Retford with him, on the 22:00 East Coast service from Kings Cross. He then offered to drive her across to Sheffield to collect her car.
Uncharacteristically discarding her usual caution, she informed him that she had not travelled to Sheffield by car, but on the train from her home at Wessingley. Andrew smiled and assured her that this made the problem even easier to resolve, as his home was no more than about 15 miles from hers.
Fortified by two of the best burgers to be purchased at any railway station and revitalised by a good strong coffee each, the two of them eventually made their way across to Kings Cross and, via the ticket machine, onto the 22:00 service from Kings Cross to Leeds. Nuala guarded the single ticket to Retford that Andrew had purchased for her as if her life depended on it! Andrew, ever organised and calm, had assured her that they could sort out the financial arrangements at a later date.
By the time the train reached Peterborough, Andrew and Nuala had learned a lot about each other and had managed to dispel some of the myths that circulated within the organisation that employed them regarding their respective departments. They had also succeeded in putting the world to right where their employer was concerned and had ended up in a generally convivial atmosphere for two people who barely knew one another.
Just after the train left Peterborough, Andrew made his way down to the catering vehicle, only to be greeted by a queue of hungry and parched homeward-bound theatre-goers who were speaking in very animated terms of the musical that they had just attended in the West End. Once again, despite the background noise, Andrew heard the 'ping' from his android. He opened the cover and looked at the single email header: 'Message from noodle'.
'Hi, Skim, what a day! Things didn't go quite to plan, but am OK and on the way home now. Tell you more next time we chat. Hope everything went well for you. Noodle'
Andrew smiled and wondered what on earth noodle had been up to. Knowing her penchant for mischief and dizziness, he decided not to ask.
His reply was succinct, to a degree of which even noodle would have been proud. 'OK, noodle, glad you're OK, keep in touch. Skim.'
A few minutes later, manoeuvring two plastic cups of tea along a fast-moving train, Andrew made his way back to his travelling companion.
Nuala was smiling and closing the cover on her mobile as Andrew reached her.
"At least there aren't any more problems, Nuala. Good to see you smiling", he commented.
Nuala flushed slightly and put her mobile back in her bag.
"Andrew, I have a confession to make..."
Andrew sat down opposite her and engaged her with a curious look...
Nuala reached again into her bag and pulled out a rectangular card with rounded edges....
"Guess what I found!" She placed the return half of her ticket, for the 20:55 from London Terminals to Sheffield, on the table.
Andrew smiled... "well, at least you can now apply for a refund to offset against the ticket we had to buy. That does prove you had a ticket."
Nuala rolled her eyes. "It's just me, sometimes I panic and everything goes tits up!"
Andrew tried to conceal his surprise, but not with complete success. Nuala blushed.
"Sorry, I tend to speak before I think sometimes. I think it's just because I'm ***king knackered."
Andrew was no prude, but he was also somewhat conservative in his outlook. This must have been obvious to Nuala, who immediately blushed even more and promised not to say another word. Andrew laughed and said he might not forgive her for making the rest of their journey boring by staying silent! Nuala giggled and muttered "Oh yeah?" in a manner that was at once cheeky and challenging. Andrew kept his cool and betrayed nothing of the growing feeling of attraction towards his co-worker. He looked at her over the rim of his glasses. "Oh yeah!". He grinned and Nuala's expression froze for a moment, before she regained control of her train of thoughts. She realised that her pulse was getting slightly faster, but she was not sure that this had anything to do with fatigue or post-adrenaline syndrome.
The conversation flowed at a slower pace as the train sped North, as fatigue began to take hold of both of them. Now, the clear skies had given way to heavy clouds rolling in from the South-West and the rain was pelting hard against the windows of the train as Andrew recognised the sharp reverse curves that signalled their approach to their destination. Having ensured that Nuala had everything with her and that he had not forgotten anything either, Andrew led her down the coach and stood on the right hand side of the train, in readiness for arrival at Retford.
Fortunately, they had only a short distance to run through the driving rain before they found the dry haven of the pedestrian tunnel that crosses underneath the East Coast main line and leads out into the booking hall.
Andrew told Nuala not even to think of a taxi and assured her he would be back to collect her in a few moments. After completing the transaction for his car park ticket, he made his way quickly to his car and, within a matter of minutes, was outside the station building, where Nuala anticipated his gentlemanly attempt to walk round and open the door for her by jumping quickly into the car.
"I'm too used to being independent", she said, with a cheeky grin.
The journey back to the A57 did not take long, for there was barely a car to be seen, just the occasional HGV making its way back to one of the major distribution depots in the nearby market town. In a matter of minutes, they were in Wessingley, a small former mining village, and it was not long before they were looking for a parking space on the terraced street where Nuala lived.
Nuala looked at Andrew and smiled. "Can I at least offer you a last cup of tea or coffee before you head off home?"
Andrew nodded. "I think I can be tempted", he replied, with a grin.
Under different circumstances, there would have been a serious risk of Andrew falling asleep on the very comfortable sofa where Nuala had invited him to wait while she went to make the tea, but Andrew's thoughts went back over the chain of events during the day and concluded, yet again, that it was always wise to expect the unexpected.
Nuala assembled the necessary items in the kitchen, then filled the kettle and switched it on. She then took her mobile from her bag and opened up the e-mail application.
'Hi, Skim, really sorry I couldn't get back to you this evening. Got rescued in London and am home again now. Chat later. Noodle. x'
The kettle was now starting to sing and soon the tea was brewing in the pot.
The atmosphere was peculiarly quiet, but not unpleasantly so. Andrew sipped his tea and looked over the top of his mug at Nuala, who was trying not to make it obvious that she was more than curious about her knight in shining armour, but she could not put her finger on the reason why it seemed as if she had known him for quite a while - and not as work colleagues. Andrew was about to speak - and so was Nuala - when the android pinged again..
"Excuse me", said Andrew quietly, "I was expecting a message from a friend this evening, do you mind if I just take a quick look".
Nuala smiled back at him and nodded her assent wordlessly.
Andrew opened up the 'phone and read the message:
'Hi, Skim, really sorry I couldn't get back to you this evening. Got rescued in London and am home again now. Chat later. Noodle. x'
Andrew smiled, closed the cover on the android and put it down on the coffee table, alongside an envelope. Quite by chance, he glanced at the address. 'Ms N Wardle, 64 Glebe Street, Wessingley, S82 6XC'. Andrew smiled. Now he remembered this young woman, whom he had met once or twice at works social events. Nuala Wardle. Of course... he smiled again.. then his countenance changed and he looked across at his hostess.
Nuala looked at him with a curious expression on her face, but she was now completely intrigued. Andrew smiled at her...
"Nuala Wardle". A penny dropped very loudly in Andrew's mind.
Nuala frowned, but not in a negative way, and tilted her head to one side as she looked at her guest with even greater curiosity.
"Y-y-y-essss, is there something wrong?"
"Oh nothing wrong at all, Nuala, ........ or should I perhaps call you noodle?"
Nuala put her mug down and put her hand to her mouth... speechless. This was extremely rare for her. She reached across to Andrew's android and, emboldened by more than curiosity, asked if she could have a look at his text message.
She was speechless for several minutes, before she finally whispered, hoarsely:
"You're - you can't be - but you must be Sk-k-imble?"
Her look of uncertainty gave way to an enormous smile as she put the android down carefully on the table. She and Andrew stood up and the next thing they knew, they were locked in an embrace that would not have looked out of place between friends who had known one another for years.
Andrew nodded.
The two of them fell instantly into hysterical laughter as the truth finally dawned upon them. Andrew, meticulous almost to the point of being OCD, was already kicking himself metaphorically for not having realised sooner what was going on, but that line of thought soon gave way to one of realisation that his thoughts about noodle had been absolutely spot on.
Nuala's tummy was churning like that of a teenage girl about to go out on her first date. She looked at this man, who was somewhat different from the run-of-the-mill what-are-you-wearing chatroom visitors and for whom she had developed deepening trust over the months during which they had spent hours in private messaging online. Time and time again she had wanted to tell him her name, give him her number and send him a photo... but caution had always overruled. She recalled all the things they had said to each other in their exchanges, the tone of which had varied from light-hearted humour to serious debate - and to matters that were somewhat more savoury. She blushed slightly as she recalled how Skimble had told her he was by no means a control freak, believing that people should be free to be themselves, but that he did find it difficult to listen comfortably to women using obscenities, a trait that always made his spanking hand itch. She recalled how his first mention of that term had made her feel, triggering the release of feelings deep within her that had lain dormant since she had read a romantic classic in which the heroine was taught the old-fashioned way of correcting unladylike behaviour.
The fact that the two of them had met in a spanking chatroom had told each of them all that they needed to know about the other's inclinations and neither of them had succumbed to the temptation to talk about details, techniques or any other aspect of the physical attributes of the things that occupied their minds. What had become apparent to both of them was that spanking was no more than one component in something far deeper, something that went to the very core of their personalities.
Andrew had listened intently online as noodle had spoken of her feeling of a deep need to be controlled, to be cared for, to feel safe and protected, even though she was regarded by all her friends and peers as tough and independent. One or two misguided males - in the real world and the virtual one - had found themselves on the wrong side of her and had come to regret it. He, however, had always felt comfortable with her company and had enjoyed greatly the times they had spent in online conversation. Now, he was faced with having to decide on the best course of action, as he felt that he had been presented with an opportunity that might slip from his grasp if he made the wrong move, for all that had passed previously had now been overtaken by what was, for both of them, a far more pleasing reality than either had expected. It was at times such as this that Andrew had always applied the old and hackneyed Latin maxim: Carpe diem! Their ensuing conversation reflected something of the shock that had just hit their lives and was, consequentially, somewhat disjointed, very different from the fluid and easy conversations that they enjoyed online.
Nuala was about to speak when Andrew looked straight at her..
"Nuala", he said, in a quiet and calm voice, "I am as surprised - shocked even - as you are. But, that said, I am not at all disappointed, far from it."
Nuala made as if to interject with comments of her own, but for once Andrew took command of the dialogue and put his hands to his smiling lips. "Let me finish, please, Nuala. Then I will listen to everything you want to say."
Nuala doubted there would be enough hours in the night for her to meet that challenge, but she acceded and leaned back in the chair, opposite Andrew. "I'm sorry, Andrew, of course, go on, please.."
Andrew continued, gazing straight into Nuala's eyes:
"We have talked about a lot of things but one thing in particular caught my attention. You said you felt you lacked control in your life - not that this prevented you from leading a successful independent life, for your workplace colleagues are testament enough to your ability both to do your job and to make friends. Obviously, I know nothing about your social arrangements, but the girl I see is indeed independent and strong... but I have also seen evidence today of those things that you fear - your loss of self-control and your lapses in watching the image you convey to those around you. I have a feeling that using the 'f' word and other dubious terms is not something that is the norm for you, but that this is just a sign of what is going on inside you when you lose your grip momentarily. I know I have almost no knowledge of you as a person in real life, but you would be surprised at how much of your personality comes across in chat as you open up."
Nuala just managed to stop herself from butting in..
Andrew acknowledged her self-restraint. "Nuala, I have never said this to any woman before, but what I have seen and heard this evening fills in so many gaps in the picture I had built up of you, a picture that was, I assure you, ever-present in my mind."
Nuala blushed and bit her lip gently, not knowing quite why she found it difficult to look Andrew in the eye now.
Andrew went on: "I would like to help you find that control, Nuala."
Nuala's jaw dropped slightly before she checked herself, sat upright and looked Andrew slightly nervously in the face, her heart pounding within her.
"Ummm, I'm not usually stuck for words", she ventured, hesitantly.
Andrew took considerable comfort from the fact that she had not laughed his proposal out of court. Somehow, he had not expected her to, but it was an encouraging confirmation of his thoughts.
Nuala continued. "Weeell, first off, I am the fussiest bitch in the world where men are concerned - and with good reason. But I've felt good with you in the virtual world almost since we met. Now, seeing the sort of person you are in the real world, I know my feelings were right. I'm not usually impulsive - well at least when not when I'm not at Meadowhall - and definitely not where people are concerned. But you're different, you make me want to gamble. I know you will be wanting to get off home 'cos you must be knackered, but I just need to nip upstairs for a minute before you go. I just have a couple of things to say to you. Is that OK?"
Assuming that the diuretic properties of coffee and tea had got the better of Nuala, Andrew smiled and nodded. "Of course, Nuala". She looked back at him, almost reproachfully. "Ummm, it is ok if you call me noodle? It just feels more normal with you."
Andrew was surprised, but he happily agreed and told her that it would probably be best if they used their screen names.
Nuala left the room quietly and went upstairs. Andrew sat with thoughts racing through his head as his mind searched vainly for a glimpse into the impenetrable fog of the future with this captivating girl. He was so absorbed with his thoughts that he did not hear her soft footfalls upstairs, as she moved around.
Andrew suddenly became aware that Nuala was standing behind him. He turned round and now it was the turn of his jaw to develop momentary slackness, as his gaze was greeted by a young woman wearing no make-up, standing 5' 7" tall and, by Andrew's reckoning, a young woman whose dress labels would probably read size 12 at the most. However, this young woman was not wearing a dress, just a long white T-shirt that had obviously been through the washing machine several times, hanging down to a point about 3 inches above her knees. Andrew gripped his mind and thought processes with steel as he made out the shape of a simple pair of white bikini knickers under the T-shirt - and nothing else, apart from this young woman whom a railway ticket had brought across the divide from the virtual world into the real world. He could not restrain himself from allowing his gaze to travel down from the crown of her golden brown hair, past her nervously smiling face, to strong shoulders, a well-proportioned young woman's upper body and to her waist and hips and on down her strong thighs and legs to her well-pedicured feet. He was, however, successful in concealing the raging fire that was now burning within, as well-established virtual knowledge merged so harmoniously with recently-discovered reality.
Andrew stood up, only 5 inches taller than Nuala in his shoes. He looked slightly downwards into her eyes and, with surprising confidence, reached forward and took gentle hold of her hands. His heart pounded as he felt her squeeze of acknowledgment.
This time, it was Nuala who asked Andrew to allow her to express herself completely. He nodded and listened.
"Skim, this is not how I had planned to meet you, but I had definitely been planning to do that, because you won my trust and confidence, then my friendship. I wanted to give you a better image of me than the one you saw tonight, of which I'm not particularly proud. But I am glad we met this way, because you now have a natural and real picture of who I am - and I have certainly seen a very natural picture of who you are. I really like that picture."
Nuala blushed as she uttered those words and Andrew was wondering how long his heart would be able to sustain this pounding performance. He embraced Nuala with a gaze that she had never seen before, one of a man who not only liked the way she looked, but also the way she was. A man who could see deep inside her, making her feel almost naked in his presence - but without any of the usual feelings of insecurity that go with that situation.
Nuala directed her hazel eyes straight into Andrew's penetrating blue eyes as their two inner persons clicked, almost audibly.
"I accept, Skim. Noodle wants to be yours - pity help you!"
She giggled like a girl 20 years her junior.
Andrew adopted the sort of expression that had often adorned his face, unknown to Nuala, whilst they had been chatting online, a combination of a wry smile and a slightly raised eyebrow that informed Nuala that he was ready for the challenge.
There were not odds in the world that would have persuaded Andrew to place a bet on his ever hearing the words that Nuala uttered next.
"Skim.......", she hesitated... "I want us to start with a clean slate so we can make something together that is both of us from here on, not carrying anything forward from the past. I know you weren't happy with my language on the station or the train... so I want to put that aside."
Andrew had an inkling of the imminence of those words he had never expected noodle to utter. That inkling came sharply into focus...
"You know me probably better than even most of my friends and family do, Skim. I know you trust me too. So I feel safe to ask you..." She blushed and coughed... ".. to ask you to spank me and put me to bed, Sir." Her heart was on the point of bursting through her ribcage as that last word passed her lips. Andrew simply held her in his gaze, unflinching now, filled with a determination to make this a life-changing event for both of them.
Nuala spoke in very hushed tones as she continued...
"I would love you to share my bed with me after you've spanked me, please."
Andrew said nothing, just held Nuala's hands and squeezed them reassuringly as he nodded.
Without a further word, Andrew picked Nuala up and carried her upstairs. Under her navigational direction, he took her into a spacious, warm and softly-lit bedroom and across to the comfortable double bed.
Andrew sat down on the edge of the bed and placed Nuala's feet on the floor. She rested her hand on his shoulder and stood up, turned around and stood alongside his lap, looking down at him. Andrew nodded and tapped his thighs.
Nuala had lost count of the number of times when she had imagined how this would happen - if, indeed, it ever did happen. Now, she was lowering herself across the lap of a man she had only met for real today, contemplating the very real probability that her body would become one with his before the night was out. She stopped thinking and surrendered to her instincts, resting her hands and her toes on the carpet.
Like REM sleep, the ensuing minutes seemed to last for ages, as Nuala experienced for the first time a firm but demonstrably caring hand landing firmly upon her shapely bottom. After a while, in which she seemed to be slipping into a dream world, she felt her T-shirt being lifted. She was not aware of having lifted her hips, but it was her instincts that now drove her actions, not her conscious mind. Again, she felt that hand landing, spreading the sting evenly across both cheeks and down onto her thigh tops. She hardly moved, but she found herself longing for this to continue for ever... Suddenly, she felt hands down inside her knickers, over her hips. Gradually, the small cotton garment slid down her thighs to her knees before the securing hand returned to her waist and the spanking hand returned to her glowing cheeks. Again she lay there, accepting, but now her legs were kicking - but only until her knickers had worked themselves completely free of her legs and feet.
Neither Andrew nor Nuala knew how long the spanking had lasted. All she knew was that she now had a deep and arousing glow in her bottom, spreading down between her thighs. She realised that the spanking had stopped and that she was lying on the bed, the quilt folded back at her side. She felt the kiss at her forehead, then the brushed kiss on her lips, to which she responded with a rich blend of lust, love and pure womanliness.
The next thing that Nuala knew was that Andrew was at her side on the bed, kneeling, completely naked and stroking her hair and face softly. She opened her eyes and looked at him. There was something comforting about the normality of him. By no means a body-builder, but no slouch either. Mid-forties, probably a few pounds too many, but not excessive. Strong limbs and a masculinity that set every female hormone in her body into desire mode. Never before had she experienced such firmness blended with such sensitivity, such exquisite pleasure as lips and an experienced tongue brought her lips to fullness, her breasts to proud declaration of sexual femininity and her abdomen to the most exquisite quivering sensation as the slightly stubbly face of this amazing man moved towards the soft furry lining on her triangle, where he dallied for several minutes, teasing her, coaxing her, effortlessly persuading her wordlessly to spread her thighs to receive his lips and tongue, as they made their way at a tantalisingly slow pace over her mound, round her engorged clitoris and down the warm and moist line of her labia to the portals leading to her most intimate part. Her hand brushed softly against his rigid manhood and closed delicately around it, brushing slowly up and down, running a fingertip over the head, where further evidence of his arousal was very obvious.
Nuala had not been counting, but was sure she had traversed at least three ridges in the ascent to total consummation of their lovemaking before she felt him slide slowly inside her. She was now in raw sexuality mode. Her hands caressed Andrew's back as his member probed, retreated, probed again, then retreated before thrusting high inside her. She gripped him with womanly muscles that had not been exercised by a partner for at least two years. Those muscles were not, however, in the least bit deficient, as Nuala had never been ashamed of satisfying the sexual appetite of a healthy young woman in other ways.
Andrew had feared that the long period of enforced abstinence might have embarrassing and disappointing consequences, but he need not have worried, for it was with almost perfect synchronisation that two bodies brought each other to the crest of desire and fulfilment. Andrew felt Nuala's legs wrap around him and embrace him as he filled her with the fruit of his desire for her. Her hands clutched at his back as she reached the summit, then stroked his perspiring skin in a way that took his sensitivity levels to almost unbearably exquisite heights.
The descent was slow, unforced and delicious as they rolled over onto their sides and Andrew returned to resting mode, slipping gently from the body of a very contented woman. The air was heady with the aroma of spent desire as they lay in each other's arms, Nuala's thigh resting on Andrew's, the desires generated by her womanliness now satisfied in a way that had been as much of a surprise to her as had the events of the day. She felt his hands comb through her hair, massaging her scalp, as her own hands gently caressed the back of her new lover, sliding down to his waist and firm, muscular buttocks. Andrew looked at her face, mellow and relaxed, and he glowed deeply inside, completely bowled over by the unexpected manner in which events had unfolded. He reached to the quilt and pulled it over them, again holding Nuala close to him, feeling the softness of her breasts and tummy against him, his manhood, now resting, brushing against the fur-lined mound. Nuala was falling asleep rapidly and soon she was purring quietly in his arms as he continued to massage her scalp very sensitively. His hand slid down her arm and onto her waist, then on down to her bottom. A warm reminder of their first spanking encounter greeted his inquisitive hand and he smiled contentedly. Soon, he too was drifting off to sleep.
In the stillness of the night, Nuala awoke and extricated herself carefully from Andrew's arms. Silently she stepped across the thick carpet and went into the bathroom. A few moments later, freshened by careful attention to her body, she returned to Andrew's side carrying a clean soap dish and a warm soft flannel. She pulled back the quilt and knelt at Andrew's side, by his hip, where her hand slipped around his manhood. He stirred, but his eyes did not open. A gentle moan passed his lips, then all was quiet again. Carefully, Nuala caressed his stiffening manhood with the flannel, until she had refreshed all his manly parts. She placed the flannel in the soap dish on the bedside table, then leant forward and blew softly over them. Andrew stirred again and this time his eyes opened. She turned to smile at him in the faint light entering through the curtains from the street. Slowly, she leant forward, took gentle hold of his manhood again, then licked slowly across the small slit, tasting just a hint of saltiness. Her lips then folded over the head of Andrew's rod and slowly moved down the shaft towards her hand that was caressing his balls. She closed her eyes and allowed her thoughts to be carried along by the sensations that this intense intimacy was generating in her. She slid her tongue slowly up the length of Andrew's shaft, then lapped around the hypersensitive patch of skin just below the head. Andrew groaned and moved his hand to Nuala's thigh, then slowly in a stroking movement up and down the silky inside of that limb. Nuala's attention became more focused as new pleasures started to develop in her groin. She froze for a moment as the visiting hand slipped between her thighs and cupped her sex, discovering the extent of her readiness for more lovemaking. She turned her head slightly towards him, never one losing contact with his manhood. There was no mistaking the signal from Andrew's hand and look. Carefully, still holding him in her mouth, she straddled his chest and immediately felt his hands on her hips, guiding her sex backwards onto his waiting mouth. She let out a soft moan as Andrew's tongue probed her labia and as she felt the hood over her clitoris being moved to afford him access to suck and caress her. His hands moved round to her bottom and caressed the two globes gently, causing her to wince slightly. Andrew had not been particularly gentle with the hand spanking but, as she remembered from one of their conversations, "a spanking should be felt and meaningful". The intensity of the intimacy built up slowly, Andrew's tongue probing deep inside Nuala, her lips encircling his manhood sensuously but firmly, her tongue teasing the rich nerve endings along the length of his shaft. Nuala felt Andrew's hands on her buttocks, pushing her gently forward. She raised her head, looked round, smiled and shuffled forward slowly, her thighs spread invitingly apart. Within seconds, Andrew was on his knees and Nuala felt the tip of his manhood teasing her clitoris again. She reached back and took hold of him, using him to massage her clitoris, along the line of her labia and down to her vagina, where she stroked the rim of the entrance firmly with Andrew's rod
Nuala gasped as a resounding slap landed on her left buttock. "Stay still, girl....".
Nuala moved her hand and rested on her forearms. Andrew's hands were caressing the insides of her thighs and up onto her buttocks. She looked round...
"I said stay still, girl, and I meant it!". Nuala immediately looked down on the quilt and gasped as a salvo of sharp smacks re-awakened the sensitivity of her bottom. She closed her eyes and began to experience a very unfamiliar sensation. Not that of her lover attending to her physically - she was no cheap date, but neither was she wanting for sexual experience - no, the difference here was that this man was making love to her body AND to her mind, which was in an unfamiliar place where she felt safe, protected. She felt womanly as she had never felt before, but she now found her mind in a totally submissive state as her lover entered her for the second time, this time even more energetically than the first. By the time Andrew reached his climax, Nuala had already experienced two powerful orgasms. She milked him as he emptied himself into her, tears running down her face. The moment of climax seemed to last for an age, but nature inevitably took her course and their bodies separated again. Nuala felt unusually light-headed but totally focused. She felt complete in a totally new way. In a virtual dream, she felt herself being lifted and carried to the bathroom. She felt the stream of warm water flooding over her, the hands of her lover attending in detail to her body. Soon, she was wrapped in a towel, sitting at her dressing table as Andrew brushed her hair and blew a gentle stream of warm air through it from the drier. He gripped the large hairbrush firmly and he smiled inwardly as his mind drifted laterally to possible alternative uses for it. Nuala was still in a virtual trance as she was carried back to her bed where, once again, she soon fell asleep in the arms of her lover, who lost little time in joining her in dreamland.
Half a mile away from the sleeping lovers, the engine of the diesel locomotive at the head of an Engineer's train had been humming quietly for at least an hour when an approaching white light in the cess indicated the arrival of the pilotman. The hum increased in pitch to the background of a soft hissing sound as the brakes were released and the train moved forwards at walking pace. As the driver switched the headlights on, a large male fox was captured in the piercing beam as it trespassed on the railway. The creature turned more in curiosity than fear towards the approaching locomotive, then looked forward again and sauntered at a leisurely pace into the darkness. In the distance, his vixen barked reassuringly.
