The TGI Chronicles: Part 2 - Dave's StoryChapter 3 free porn video

I knocked on the door of Lucy's house about three quarters of an hour after she'd phoned. She opened it, whilst standing behind it, and invited me in, telling me to be quiet as the children were asleep upstairs. It was only as she shut the door behind me that I realised why she had hidden herself shyly. She was wearing very, very little. A black platform bra that held her breasts up and on show, not covering her nipples. The bra was trimmed in bright red fluffy feathers. It matched the little g-string, also in black with red feathers. Thigh high black stockings and scarlet high heeled shoes completed the ensemble. She looked sexy, but in a cheap and slutty sort of way. Not what I wanted, nor what a distraught wife, grieving over her failing marriage, should be wearing.

"I see the pubs round here have a relaxed dress code." I observed with a smile.

"I couldn't get a babysitter, and I thought you might like it." She led the way into their sitting room, "Help yourself to a drink. There's loads of different Scotches, Pete keeps bringing them back from Edinburgh."

I poured myself a small Scotch, and sat down next to her on the sofa. "So what's this all really about, Lucy?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, innocently, stroking her hand through my hair, "I thought you and I had something going. I needed to see you, Dave."

"Well, I'm here now, but I came up as a friend. You sounded very down on the phone. I thought a drink in a pub might cheer you up."

"I thought, as we can't go out, we could find something else to do..." She arched her back and her hands went to her nipples, rolling them gently.

"I didn't come here for sex, Lucy. Delicious as that may be." I paused to look at her, normally it would have been a fantasy come true to have an attractive woman, almost undressed, asking me to take her, but not tonight. Maybe it was because I'd fucked twice today already, but that was a few hours ago, I should be able to manage again. No, something else made me feel that this wasn't right.

"We're not having an affair or anything, Lucy. I told you, I don't do that with married women. But I do think more of you than just a quick fuck."

"But we made love. We've spent the night together. Or have you got tired of me already? Is that it Dave? I was just a lay for the night?"

"Isn't that what you were looking for? You are just an easy tart looking to get laid, if I remember correctly." I smiled slightly, to ease the harshness of my words.

She looked sullen, but she didn't reply. I sipped my whisky.

"But I need you to fuck me. Then, for a few minutes I can forget what a mess my life is in. Please Dave. That's why I'm dressed like this. This is what we do. Isn't that really why you came here?" She put her hand out to my crotch, and gently squeezed.

I leant forward and put my whisky down on the little coffee table. I turned back to her and took her in my arms. She cuddled in. She smelt of cheap perfume and whisky.

"This isn't right." I said, quietly. "You can't make yourself feel better by just getting some guy who you've only known for a few days, to screw you. You're a gorgeous woman, Lucy. Any man would be pleased... no proud to... But not tonight."

She put her hands around my head and pulled us together, kissing me urgently. "Please, Dave. Just take me here on the sofa and make me forget. Please, Dave." Kissing me all the while.

"No, Lucy." I pulled away. I looked at her. She looked broken, I thought she was going to burst into tears at any second. I decided to see if I could get myself out of this with some easy promises, "Oh, Lucy, don't doubt me, I want you. Look at you, any man would want you. I promise you I'll be back, and when I do, I want you dressed exactly as you are tonight."

"When? Promise me you'll come back this week. Promise me, Dave."

"OK. I'll phone you. One night in the week. But it's not right tonight, for either of us." I leant forward and kissed her on the forehead, and then on both cheeks. "Now, you're going to be alright, aren't you? Why don't you just have a nice hot bath, and go to bed. It'll all be better in the morning. Promise." I kissed her again, on her nose this time.

I began to push her off me, as I stood up. She let me, turning and sitting back at her end of the sofa. She still looked a bit sullen and sulky, but mollified.

I let myself out, and as I walked back to my car, I thought 'I really don't need this'.

I stopped at the King's Head, on the outskirts of town. It's not my favourite pub, it's a bit to full of tourists for me, or it is in summer. Tonight it was quiet. I didn't recognise anyone, so I bought myself a pint, and sat by myself. I thought of Davinia, wondering how she was getting on at a family party. Answering questions on the missing Tod. Answering questions on whether she's got a new man, and wondering what she would say to that.

On Monday morning in the office, I caught sight of Davinia as she arrived, we smiled at each other but said nothing across the desks and partitioning. But later, as I was returning to my office from the coffee machine I noticed that Tim was heading out of the department. I strolled straight to his office.

She looked up as I entered, "Oh that's kind of you Dave. You needn't have bothered."

Pardon? Oh yes, the coffee in my hand. "Hard luck, this is mine."

"I know, I was just kidding." She smiled at me.

I smiled back, "I enjoyed yesterday."

"So did I. Thank you."

I looked concerned, "That sounded a bit final?"

"Well, isn't it? Isn't that what you do? Your reputation suggests that two dates is quite an achievement on my part"" Her eyes were sparkling, but she wasn't looking at me, just glancing sideways.

I leant against the filing cabinets, "Well, I thought I might try to keep you around for a day or two more..."

And then bloody Tim came in! "Ah, Dave. Just the man I want to see. Come in." He headed into his office.

I followed him, glancing at Davinia as I did so, giving a silent shrug of my shoulders, "Oh! I was just hoping to see you, Tim." I said, desperately trying to think of something to talk to him about, something to explain my presence in his outer office, even if he did know damn well why I was there.

"Well, do you want to go first?" he asked as he sat down at his desk. Did he know my problem, could he read the panic in my face? But then inspiration struck, I started with the easy bit: "I just wanted to say thank you for Saturday night. I enjoyed it very much."

"Good, so did I. And you were the hit of the show. Beth thinks you're a super guy and wants to know why you haven't been snapped up by some girl. I said the good women of this town have better taste." He smiled, paused and looked at me "And?"

"And what?" I asked.

"And you have something else. You didn't come here just to thank me for Saturday evening."

"Oh! And, I was thinking of giving Drew his own project. What do you think?"

He looked at me, "Your decision, Dave, but it fits with what I wanted to see you about. I've just seen Darren. He is swearing that we are poaching his best staff. Apparently Helen Brade wants a transfer from banking to insurance. Do you know anything about it?"

I sat down in a visitors chair, "Nope. I had heard that Brad Tilling wants to come to us from Investment. I tried to dissuade him, I hear he's bloody useless. And there is a rumour that Chas Dallier and Kit Bretherington-Smythe both want to come to us as well. But I hadn't heard about Helen. She might be worth having."

"Well, maybe you're going to have to choose between Helen and Drew. I think Helen's already run a couple of projects in Banking so she's got the experience. But. why the hell does everyone want to come to us? Are we flavour of the month or something? No wonder Darren and Sheila give me very cold shoulders these days. I knew they hated me, now I know why."

"Because their staff yearn to work for you, Tim." I looked at him with a smile, he knew I was kidding. "But, seriously, given the choice between us and Darren or Sheila as a boss, who would you choose?"

"That's an unfair question, and I'm not answering it. Or not whilst I'm in this office. I guess I'll have to see Charlie about it. Staff transfers must be his department. So, on your way out, ask Dav to come in for a minute. Thanks."

He turned his head to read the papers lying on his desk, obviously neatly piled up by Davinia for his attention.

I turned to go, but as I got to the door he spoke again, "Oh. Are you going to the gym this evening? I thought I'd go over at about six o'clock."

"Dunno. I haven't given it much thought. I might. You're sure to find Drew there. Six o'clock on Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays without fail. A man of regular habits is Drew."

"What does he do Thursdays and Fridays?"

"I don't know what he does on Thursdays, but Fridays it's to the pub first, then onto Shades normally."

"Oh! Bachelors should lead more exciting lives than that. He's let me down."

"Maybe he does dangerous sports all weekends, that's when he's not at orgies, of course."

I turned and left Tim's office. I was facing Davinia. "Where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?"

"You were about to invite me out for a meal somewhere nice tomorrow evening, and I was going to say Yes."

"Oh!" I paused, "Davinia, could you possibly find it in your heart to be willing to accompany me to a wonderful and romantic dining experience tomorrow evening?"

"Well, OK then. If I must." She was smiling.

I was smiling. "See you. Oh, by the way, our lord and master wants you." I said as I left.

I did go to the gym that night. Drew was there, and Tim turned up about ten minutes after me. As I moved to change machines, Drew was going in the other direction, "Have you spoken to him yet?" He nodded his head towards Tim.

"No, sorry. I haven't had a chance to talk him through it yet."

"When will you get a chance? I'm itching to know what the project is."

"Well, Drew, we're in a sort of problem area. Apparently there's the possibility of transferring people around, from banking and investment teams. I'm not quite sure how that will work out. But don't worry, I'll have a word with Tim as soon as I can."

I worked out for about another half hour. Then I went for a shower, in the locker room I met Tim, he was just sitting there, changed and ready to leave.

He looked up at me, "What did Drew want?"

"When?"

"Just now, in the gym. I saw you talking? I saw him in here just now and asked him if he'd fancy a drink at the Black Swan, he declined, but said that he was sure you'd be wanting to join me, as you need to talk to me. What's that all about?"

"Ah! He was asking me about his chances for promotion. I said things were happening and he'd have to wait until after you and I had talked things through."

"Good. As long as you haven't promised him anything."

I looked at him. He looked at me. He waited, expectantly.

"Bugger you, Tim. How come you know every bloody thing?"

He laughed, and put his hand on my arm, "It's OK, Dave. Davinia asked if she should be doing a memo on Drew's promotion. You'll have to watch your pillow talk."

"Fuck!"

"Look, if you think Drew is worth promotion, then we promote him. We don't owe anything to other people in other departments, we look after our own first. Helen will have to fit in around us, if she transfers. Now get dressed and I'll buy you that pint in The Black Swan."

After he had bought that pint, I asked him, "How come you're drinking here and not going home?"

"You always ask that. I don't have to run home at the first opportunity. I'm not under her thumb, and I don't think I have to keep watch on her every minute." He sighed and looked at me, "On the other hand, Beth has a Relax with Dance class, so she won't be home until sometime after eight o'clock." He smiled.

"And you can't go home on your own. I understand." I patted his hand on the table, and I looked at him with what I hoped was feigned concern.

"Well, it's sort of my turn to cook. But cooking is something I never quite got round to when I was on my own. I reckon we're better off if I stay out until just after she's got back, then turn up with a decent takeaway. I sort of owe her a decent meal."

"You haven't been starving her again, have you Tim. Starving wives into submission isn't a good approach."

He looked at me, "No, I just gave her a lousy day yesterday. It was one of my bad days. Everything came back to me. I was full every emotion possible, all at the same time."

"What brought that on? I hope it wasn't me and Alice asking questions the night before."

"Maybe, I don't know. If I knew what brought these moods on, then I could avoid them. I was annoyed at Beth after you left. She was full of praise for you, but Alice was the Harlot from Hell. I guess it was some girl-girl thing, just because of the way that Alice was dressed."

"And not because she thinks that you might fancy Alice. A revenge fuck or something? No jealousy?"

"Good Heavens! No! She's got absolutely no reason to think that. If I was going to have a revenge fuck, surely I would have done it before now, probably when we were apart. She was the one that tried dating, I didn't even do that."

"But you thought about it. I'd have given it no more than another two weeks and you would have dated someone. And I reckon that could have been Alice." I looked at him. "Look, I'm a professional. I know the signs."

"Well, yes, maybe." He smiled and looked up at me, "But not now. I don't fancy Alice like that anymore, she would only have been a sort of trial run, and I'm rather pleased I didn't, because it wouldn't have been fair to her. And anyway, she wasn't my only option."

"Anything else that set you off?"

"Well she also pissed me off when she didn't tell me off when she had every right to. She was doing her super tolerant loving wife bit, and that really pisses me off when I'm down."

"Why? What had you done?"

"Oh, nothing really. I got caught by Sue Chapman, our landlady. I nipped out to get the Sunday paper and she saw me. The Chapmans will be moving back in to Trafalgar House very soon, the builders have nearly finished. So almost every other day, Sue comes round with paint samples and curtain swatches. She has the belief that I have a great eye for colours, it's all down to the spare bedroom cushions on our sofa."

I was mystified. He looked up at me and smiled. "It's a long story. Anyway, she saw me and invited me into their kitchen for a coffee. So I spent best part of three quarters of an hour wandering around their house discussing the differences of curtain pelmets and curtain poles and that sort of thing. When I eventually got home, Beth didn't say a word. She had every right to ask 'Where the hell have you been?' But she didn't. I guess she was scared that I'd wandered off to be alone. But it bloody annoyed me."

"But if she had asked 'Where the hell have you been?' you would have been annoyed at her for asking too many questions, and fussing about you." I looked straight at him, he looked across the table at me, eye to eye.

"Yes. Well... I might have." he conceded.

"So, you were a shit for the day. So what? You've got to expect bad days in your situation." I reached out and squeezed his hand. He feels bad because his wife screwed up on him and he has bad days. That's what women do to you.

Time I changed the subject: "Davinia was surprised how good a cook I am. I've got to decide whether to take her out for dinner tomorrow or show off and cook at home."

He looked up "A romantic dinner in a nice restaurant would be good."

"But she might then just go home afterwards. And cooking at home is the sort of softer side of the macho man bit. And then I've got her within ten steps of the bedroom."

"You have a one track mind. That's an advantage of marriage. You know it'll be there when you want it, or it is in my marriage. But, anyway, this must be your third date at least. Surely the great Dave Finch has got her to come across by now? Or are you getting old?"

I didn't rise to his gentle ribbing. "A gentleman doesn't tell. Rest assured that Dav and I are going great. Now mind your own business."

"Sorry." He paused and we drank our beer in silence, before he spoke again, "Indian or Chinese? That is the question."

"Well if you want a really good Indian, have you tried that little supermarket sort of shop in River Street off the High Street?"

"No. Is that the one that looks a complete jumble of household goods and groceries, and oddball fruit and veg? I don't think I've ever been in there. It looks a bit run down."

"That's the one. And you're missing a trick. It's run by a true immigrant Indian, and his wife cooks various curries and other Indian dishes and puts them in the freezer in the shop. If you're lucky you can get her to come out and tell you all about every one. They're ten times better than anything you'll get at the takeaway. Just microwave them when you get them home."

"Maybe I'll try it. Will they still be open." He looked at his watch.

"Yes. They stay open 'til about nine. But you'll have to be clever in your timing to get her out to talk. She watches television, I've had to wait for the programme to end before she'll come down. Try just before eight o'clock, the change of programmes might be your best bet."

"OK. I'll report back in the morning. You realise that if this works, you'll be an even bigger hero in Beth's eyes."

"I can live with that."

We finished our pints and he was gone. I returned to my flat to read cookery books and stock check my freezer.

Not a lot of note happened at work on Tuesday, except that Drew was in my office within two minutes of my arrival, asking if I had spoken to Tim. I said I had outlined the idea, and he had given it his blessing, but there would be some delay until we could clarify the company's ideas on transferring people between departments. He seemed satisfied with that.

Later I saw Tim, to ask him if he'd seen Charlie Bullard. No he hadn't, apparently Charlie was away for the week. But Tim had seen Neil Timmons, who already knew of the problem and was also waiting to talk it through with Charlie.

Tuesday evening was dinner with Davinia. I walked round to her parent's house and called for her. She came to the door this time, so I wasn't inspected by either her mother or father. I had booked a table at Giovanni's, the best Italian in town, halfway up the High Street.

We held hands as we walked down her street, and suddenly she pulled me back, turning to face me. We kissed. "What was that for?"

"It sort of symbolises the change from David Finch, deputy head of department, to Dave my boyfriend. I like to start with you changing roles."

"Well promise me if you find yourself letting my image slip back to work, I'll happily remind you of my real role." I smiled and we walked on.

The meal at Giovanni's was excellent. It is a small, typically Italian restaurant. But the food is always good, the wine is wonderful, and the bill is manageable. But what made my evening was the company. Like Sunday we just simply talked, but this time it was a little more personal, we talked about family and our schools and our friends. She was just so easy to talk to, we seemed to be in harmony. She understood my attitudes and ideas just as much as I understood hers. She didn't condemn my Mother as much as any right thinking person should, but she was probably just trying to be polite.

What I did notice were Davinia's eyes. I had always known they were pretty blue and very attractive, it was one of the first things that anyone would notice about her. But the subtly changed colour with every emotion she felt. They could be light blue and happy, or violet to go with darker thoughts. I was entranced by her eyes.

After our meal, standing on the pavement outside Giovanni's I invited her back to my flat for more coffee and a brandy.

"She looked into my eyes, between little kisses, "No, thank you."

I'm sure I looked disappointed, but then she continued, "I don't need more coffee or brandy. Let's go." And she took my hand and we walked back to my flat.

The sex was great! No, it was better than that. The sex was the best I could remember for years! I guess it was something about making love to a girl who was becoming a real friend, a rarity in my life.

I discovered two things. Davinia was lousy at giving blow jobs. She tried, and it was sexy and pleasing, she had no hesitation, but she was just not very good at doing it. Second, she has one of the smallest, but most sensitive clits I've ever known. I was licking away, and thoroughly enjoying myself, when I licked up towards her clit. It was hidden under a fold of skin. I licked and nibbled with my lips, but it never poked its way out of its hiding place. So, with a pointed tongue I went in search of it. I knew I'd found it when she jumped backwards, up the bed, just as if she'd had a jolt of electricity. "Sorry" I said, "I obviously found the spot."

"Gosh. No one's ever done that before. I'm so sensitive."

"But was it nice?"

"Nice isn't the word. It was just too much. Please go easy. Be gentle."

"Let me kiss it better." And that's what I did, until her legs locked around my head so that I could hardly move or even breath, and she orgasmed.

Then I quickly put on a condom, and crawled up her. I kissed her and entered her at the same time. She locked her legs around my waist, and we worked towards my climax with her whispering "Cum for me Dave" and "Please give it to me" in my ear.

Then as I said "Aaagh!" as I came, she said "Ooohhh" and came again, with me.

After we'd recovered, I pulled the condom off and dropped it into my bin. She lifted herself to lie on her side, her head supported by her bent arm, her ear pressed to her supporting hand. "Why do you always use them. I'm on the pill."

"Because I haven't always chosen my lovers to be quite as wholesome as you, my darling. And I've had too many to feel entirely confident."

"You mean you think you might have something?" I could feel her freezing by my side.

I looked at her, "No, or I hope not. I meant that I couldn't be confident that they hadn't had something. I hope I've avoided everything, but I'd hate to find that I hadn't and worse still, passed it on to you."

"You should get yourself tested, then we could..."

"Yeah. I will. I did about a year ago, and I was absolutely OK then. And I've always been careful. So, I will if we really get together."

"Aren't we? We can't get more together than this." She looked at me with raised eyebrows, and eyes that could have been turning violet.

"Yes. No. I mean if we really get together, move into together or something. But let's just enjoy the moment."

She looked at her watch. "Well the moment you've got to enjoy is the moment to watch me get dressed."

"Aren't you going to stay the night. I've got a spare toothbrush."

"I bet you have. And I bet you can do a breakfast for two anytime. But no, Dave. I'm going home."

Reluctantly I walked her back home. As we walked along I asked "What are you doing tomorrow night?"

"Do you really want to see me that soon?"

"Yes, I think I do. So?"

"Well we can't. I volunteered myself for the Regency Players. I'm just helping out in wardrobe, but it gets me back into am dram. Tod hated me doing it, I guess he had to see too many school productions. So, with him gone, I called up an old friend and got myself roped in again. So how about Thursday night?"

"You're on. Do you want to do anything special?"

"Yes. You can cook for me."

"Easy. Anything you won't eat?"

"Nothing. But I do need more practice in eating some things."

"You have a dirty mind, Davinia!"

So, Wednesday was the day for Lucy! I phoned her as soon as I got into the office. She sounded harassed, but said it was only because of the children. We agreed eight o'clock at her place.

I got there, not knowing quite what I was going to face. What I did face was a fetish French maid. She had a silly white cap, a very short, cheap shiny black skirt, a little white frilly apron that just about covered her breasts, frilly white panties, and black fishnet stockings with black high heeled shoes.

"Wow, Lucy, that's some outfit."

"Pete likes it, I thought you might."

Well I'm not Pete, I thought. I think it makes you look cheap and trashy. And dressing up that way for your adulterous affair makes you seem desperate. But, what the Hell! She does have a good body, and it was here now and so was I.

"Well, my little Fifi, get me a whisky." I demanded as she led me into their sitting room.

I sat down on the sofa, and looked at her as she handed me the whisky. She looked pale and sad beneath slightly too much make up. "You look good, Lucy. But shouldn't you have done a little dip as you handed me the whisky?"

"Well, maybe your little Fifi is a little bit naughty. Maybe you should punish her a little, M'sieur"

"Down here? Or upstairs?"

"Oh, down here. It's a bit too close to the children's bedrooms upstairs. That's OK isn't it Dave?"

"Sure." I said, nodding.

I looked at her, she stood in front of me, waiting. "How about taking those little panties off?"

"Sir?" she said as she immediately lowered her panties and stepped out of them.

"And now, come and bend over my lap for your punishment, you naughty little French maid." I was aware that I was really at a loss as to how to play this scene. I just didn't know her well enough, and this game hadn't evolved from our relationship. I guess that it was one that she plays with her husband Pete, but he knew what was expected of him.

I moved slightly along the sofa, to sit in the centre and well back in the seat. I patted my lap and looked meaningfully at Lucy. She seemed to know exactly what to do, and laid herself across me, bottom up, squarely on my lap. I lifted her skirt well out of the way, laying up on her back, and rubbed my hands over the white flesh of her bottom. Of course, I've spanked a woman before, I've done most things before, but never so coldly, just play acting. Before it has always been in fun, with some lover who has cheekily done something minor, and we are normally both laughing. But having a soft and sexy female spread across my lap in submission, had its effect, I could feel my cock pressing against my trousers, and her tummy. And I guess she felt it.

I gently spanked her, once on each cheek. Then again on each cheek. "Oh, M'sieur is being very kind to little Fifi." was Lucy's reaction.

"Oh, no I'm not. I was just letting little Fifi get used to the idea of her punishment." I replied and gave her two hard smacks.

"Oh." Said Lucy, squirming a bit, which emphasised my erection, painfully.

Then twice more, her arse was turning red.

Then, finally, twice more. Hard.

"Ouch!"

"Don't complain, little Fifi. Accept your punishment." My hand wandered between her open legs, and she immediately pressed her pussy up and onto it. It was molten. This was having its effect on her.

"Kneel against the sofa, I think we both need something else now."

She moved to kneel on the floor, her head on the cushion seat of the sofa. I stood, dropped my trousers and boxers, slipped on a condom, and was in her in a matter of seconds.

I pushed in deeply on my first thrust. Her pussy was so wet I felt no resistance. She just went "Oh!"

Neither of us lasted long. We both rose to a quick climax, with her shouting "Fuck me!". And then I fell back as I came out of her. She sort of slumped sideways. I took off the condom, and stood up. My trousers and boxers were still around my ankles, I kicked them off, with my shoes. "Where's the loo?"

"The door opposite in the hall." She sort of mumbled.

I went across the hall, in my socks and shirt, and flushed the condom away. I checked that it flushed, I've been embarrassed like that before.

When I returned to the sitting room I picked up my whisky and sat down in one of the chairs. Lucy was still slumped on the floor and across the sofa. I sipped my whisky and sat watching her. She looked at peace. I wondered what drove her that she needed this slightly kinky sex with almost a stranger. I couldn't believe she was happy in this no man's land of halfway in halfway out of her marriage. I still believe that she needs to get on and get out, only then can she start moving forward. Quickie sex with me wasn't a solution.

"Lucy, have you spoken to Pete since Sunday?"

"No, of course not. What's the point?"

"OK. Have you done anything about the divorce then?"

"No."

"Well you can't go on like this. It's not doing you any good, and if it isn't good for you, then it isn't good for your children."

"Don't you bring my kids into this. You don't know them. You don't know me."