Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 48

My turn to pick the pose now. Without disconnecting, I rolled Jayne over and bought her to the edge of the bed, so I could stand between her legs, and not have to put any weight on her still tender skin. I quickly reestablished a comfortable tempo, with Jayne grunting and mewling beneath me. It was at that point I noticed her clitoris was open to my touch. Could I possibly get her to an unprecedented, for me at least, third climax. I had to try, at least.

Trying hard not to change my rhythm, I reached down and placed the fingers of my right hand on Jayne’s pubic mound, directly on her spongey damp bush. This allowed me to use my thumb to gently stroke her clit through its fleshy hood, occasionally making direct contact with the bud itself, sending shudders through her body, and bringing little groans to her lips.

We had been going for some time now and I was beginning to tire, so it was time to bring things to a conclusion, whatever the result. I had been holding my loins tense, to delay my ‘second cuming,’ but now relaxed to allow nature to take its course. I also picked up the pace of my thrusting, and ‘thumbing’ hoping I could keep it up for long enough.

Having decided I had held back long enough; it only took a few more minutes for me to reach the point of release. Just before I was about to let go, I felt Jayne’s body stiffen under me, as she reached her hat trick. It was not as powerful as the first two, but signalled that I could, with a clear conscience, finish, which I did just a few moments later, depositing my sample safely into the rubber, which thank goodness had survived the session intact.

To say we were both absolutely spent, would be a massive understatement, to say the least. It was some time before we were able to crawl up the bed and lay our heads on the pillows. Her knickers had disappeared earlier, but Jayne was still fully covered by the nightgown. I say covered; it was so sheer her assets were fully visible through the cloth. But that surely was the object of the exercise, which I am certain had added much to the success of our coupling. I needed a piss but was too knackered to get up and go to the bathroom right then. It would have to wait until I woke briefly in the early hours later.

I pulled the bed covers up over us, as Jayne snuggled into me, head on my chest and one leg draped over mine. We simultaneously looked into each other’s eyes and leaned in to exchange a meaningful kiss. When we broke, I felt an overwhelming sense of contentment wash over me and without conscious thought said aloud, “I love you Jayne.” It might have been an instinctive reaction to the post coital euphoria but was no less genuine for it. Jayne acknowledged me with a squeeze of the hand but was already drifting off into slumber.

It was me that was up first the following morning. When, an hour later, there was still no sign of Jayne, I took a mug of coffee up to her. She was awake, but still in bed. She smiled broadly at me and beckoned me over for a good morning kiss, though she was looking a bit ‘out of sorts’. She told me she was feeling the tension and mild stomach cramps that usually heralded the start of her period in the next few days. Mixed feelings. I felt bad for her, that she was in discomfort, but a bit relieved that if she did start, it would mean the end of our pregnancy scare, which, as I have already stated, it was.

I think, for different reasons, we were all feeling a bit sapped of strength that Sunday, so we just had a lazy day. Ken and I took our turn at cooking the meal that evening, and we all had an early bedtime. There was no sex that night. At least not for Jayne and I, I cannot speak for the homeowners. Us two just sat in bed, cuddled together, and talked quietly. Jayne said her lawyer had confirmed the divorce papers had been served on her estranged husband, the reason she was seeking sanctuary at Barbie and Ken’s, in case he reacted badly, possibly violently again. But there had been no word. She would give it one more week, and there was still nothing, she would return to her place. That on its own was a bit depressing for her, as it was a cramped little one room bedsit, in a shared house. I had only seen it once so far and would hate to have to return there.

We also talked about us. Our journey so far. Our current situation; and a future. It had recently dawned on Jayne that I was only in my current location on a training course, which I would complete in about four months’ time, then I would be off again. It would most likely be a UK posting but could be to anywhere in the World. (We would up stick and move home thirteen times over the next 25-years, as I was moved from post to post, until I eventually retired from the service.)

Although we had only been together for around four months at that point, it was clear there was a strong bond between us. We’d both expressed our love for each other. I for one meant it and was confident Jayne did too. It would likely be many, many months yet before her divorce was finalised, so our options were limited. In for a penny, though Telling her I did not need an immediate decision, that she should think about it carefully, I asked her to consider moving with me when the time came. Without hesitation, she hugged me tighter and said, “Of course I will. There is nothing left here for me anymore. My life is with you now if you will have me.” (not 100% true, her parents lived locally, and it would mean moving away from them).

I harboured a slight nagging feeling, that this could just be a rebound affair for Jayne. That one she was fully divorced, she would realise she had jumped from one marriage, straight into another relationship, without having time to reset properly. That she would soon get fed up with me and hanker to ‘play the field’ a little, in search of a more desirable partner. Obviously, five decades later, that fear has been proved unfounded.

Jayne actually ended up staying one further week with Barbie and Ken, three weeks in total, before we moved her back to her own room. The depression at doing so was apparent in her. The plus side was that we were back living closer together, allowing us to see more of each other. As before, Jayne spent most evenings at my flat, though as I shared a bedroom with flatmate Stewart, it was only on the odd occasions she could sleep over.

I was now also a regular visitor to Jayne’s bedsit, where we could of course make love in private. But the landlords' rules did not allow ‘overnight visitors’. I doubted the legality of that, and it would become an issue at a later date, but more on that later. Fortunately though, they spent most weekends away at their holiday home, so we, and the other tenants flouted that rule with impunity.

The male householder was a slimy, pervy git, the epitome of the ‘Rigsby’ character from the TV show, Rising Damp. The three bedsits he rented out, were all let to single women. We all knew for a fact that he came into their rooms whilst they were out and rummaged through their belongings, but we would not be able to prove it, on a legal level. It was sickening to think what he actually did in there, when alone. Before I came on the scene, one girl had confronted him with her suspicions and been summarily evicted. I could never decide whether it was a good or bad thing that she had not taken action, as it was undoubtedly an illegal eviction. If only we had ‘nannycams’ back then.

One evening, a couple of months after Jayne returned home, we were lounging in her room, naked and playing, as was often the case. I cannot remember for certain what we had done so far but will never forget what followed. When we were ready to fuck, I reached for the bedside table, where we kept a supply of condoms. To my delight, Jayne, stopped me “No need any longer,” she said. She had followed through on her decision to restart using the oral contraceptive pill and had now given it enough time to take full effect.

I have no great hatred of using rubbers, but as I have said in a previous part, I do not care what anyone says, you CAN feel the difference. Impatient to feel that difference, I hurriedly lay Jayne down and parted her knees to get at her. I guess she was as keen as me, as her hair rimmed outer lips were swollen and parted, and her interior was glistening with her own excitement. I grasped my cock and rubbed the bulbous head along Jayne’s cleft, picking up her lubricant and spreading it over myself, to ease penetration.

Jayne’s hands pulled urgently on my bum cheeks, telling me she was ready to receive me. I nestled my glans at her entrance, and applied a slight forward pressure with my hips, feeling myself sliding easily into Jayne’s welcoming vagina. Yes, we had fucked bareback on that first occasion, but the subsequent trauma had made me forget how heavenly being ‘naked’ inside her was. I assumed the exclamation of “Oh yes, that’s much better,” from Jayne, meant that she approved of the skin-to-skin contact too.

I am not going to lie. As soon as I felt the warm, wet, tight vaginal muscles gripping my bare cock, I knew I would not last long…and I did not. I tried to hold back and told Jayne to slow down and let me ‘acclimatise’ for a few moments. But on ‘special occasions, she is such a giving lover. Rather than backing off, she started to buck her pelvis up at me harder and faster, overriding any hope I had of delaying to bring her off too.

I gave up trying. Jayne was determined to make me cum as quickly as possible for some reason. So why fight it. I started to match her motion, by thrusting back as she rocked towards me. The smirk on Jayne’s face told me she wanted me to cum in her, and soon, and I did, hard and copiously. I said nothing and carried on pumping in and out of her, but Jayne exclaimed, “Oh yes…I can feel it spurting inside me…good, so, so good.”

Now call me dense by all means, but I did not know that was a thing; That a woman could actually feel a guy ejaculate inside her or, of course, that it meant so much to them to do so. When I mentioned this to Jayne later, I got her standard ‘men are so stupid and you’re the stupidest of the stupid’ look. I probably deserved that. Oh well, you live and learn.

My time in advanced training was rapidly coming to an end. We were told we had passed the course, meaning my promotion was now guaranteed. A few of the original starters had fallen by the wayside, failing various aspects of the training. All would get another chance, on a later intake, and to the best of my knowledge all were successful second time around. All that remained was for us each to complete a final section of ‘pre-employment training’ which covered the specifics of our next posting.

I was earmarked to spend three weeks on a PET course in Berlin. It was on a unique type of system, meaning that would be where my next post would be too. Now normally I would have been overjoyed at that prospect, but it could not have happened at a worse time. It would be impossible for Jayne to follow me there. ‘Living out’ was not permitted in Berlin, and Jayne and I, being unmarried, were not entitled to on base housing (unlike now). We were screwed, not for the last time, by the restrictions of armed forces life.

I talked openly about my dilemma with my course mates. Several were quite envious of my allocation, themselves only receiving various UK based roles. Much as I wanted Berlin, I had made a commitment to Jayne which I could not, no did not want to, break. After confirming it was possible with the admin authorities, I offered to exchange my Germany position for one of the UK posts. There were two takers. Neither was an ideal location for me, and both were not regarded as ‘popular roles’. But at that point in time, securing a ‘plum job’ was the least of my concerns. I was head over heels in love with Jayne. I had been here before and lost the women concerned because of enforced separation. I was not prepared to do so again. Jayne was so important to me, that if necessary, I would have exercised my right to early discharge to stay with her.

It was not necessary though. I agreed a swap for, what I considered, was the best of the two offers on the table. Either would mean long journeys back to see Jayne, until we could find a flat of our own. But even that hurdle was unexpectedly overcome.

Now I did not have to travel to my PET training in Berlin, the last few weeks were spent there at the training school. My roomies and I had to give up our flat, the tenancy was up as planned, and we had to settle for ‘transit accommodation’ a very basic temporary living space, until we moved on. This put the brakes firmly on our sex life. I mentioned earlier that I was banned from having sleepovers at Jayne’s place, by her morally corrupt landlord, who we had christened ‘Rigsby’. Perhaps it was because we knew, or at least hoped, that she would not be there much longer, we had started to push the boundaries a bit. On a number of occasions this meant I had, Quote: ACCIDENTALLY: Unquote, fallen asleep there, waking at the crack of dawn, to leave before the rest of the house stirred.

We seemed to have got away with it, but got blasé. In my final week, after a late night out, Jayne tried to sneak me in for sex, but Rigsby was waiting up for us. We had not been as undetected as we believed, and he had just bided his time to catch us red handed. We tried to bluff it out, but he was not having it, and started having a real go at Jayne, questioning her morals, calling her a slut and the like. I was not having that. Hands up, I did lose my temper with him, but did not, as he claimed later, threaten him. I told him a few home truths. That we knew of his intrusions into his tenants' personal lives, that he had been guilty of an unjust eviction and that some of his ‘rules’ were illegal (confirmed by the solicitor handling Jayne’s divorce when we casually inquired during a routine meeting.)

He would not have it though. He was stood in the doorway, blocking our access, well mine at least, and short of physically barging him aside, there was nothing I could do right then, so I had to concede and leave. But I was worried about Jayne and possible repercussions. So, I was back there early the following day (fortunately a Saturday). Luckily I did not have to confront him straight away, as I was let in by one of the other tenants. But shortly after I arrived there was a knock on Jayne’s room door.

I steeled myself to do battle with Rigsby again but was determined not to lose my cool this time. But to our surprise, when we opened the door, there stood a young police constable. Rigsby has set the cops on us. PC Plod said they had received a complaint, and he had already spoken to the landlord and now wanted our side of the story, which we gave him. The copper said Rigsby had claimed I had threatened him the previous night. I admitted I had lost my rag a bit, but in no way had I made any threats, physical or otherwise, which Jayne bore witness to, if that meant anything, as she was part of the argument.