Stand In

You ever get an invite to a party and you read it a couple of times to make sure that someone is not taking the piss out of you?

I am an ordinary working class man. An artisan, a mechanic and it shows on me. I am well built, partly because of my job and partly because I work out at the gym regularly. My clothing is not suave, latest fashion or terribly expensive. It’s neat, serviceable, off the peg. I don’t move in the upper levels of society. They don’t want to socialise with me and I am pretty sure that I don’t want to socialize with them. We have nothing in common so we have nothing to generate idle chit chat.

So. Let’s get back to that invite. It’s from Beth Simonds to an art unveiling. Beth is a very beautiful woman who is married to an accountant and they live in the best part of town. Not the sort of people who would normally know of my existence, let alone invite me to one of their fancy parties.

Except. Except that her sister, Jess fulfilled one of her fantasies with me. You know the one where the customer pays for her car repairs by fucking the mechanic. The mechanic is dressed in overalls open to the waist and with blotches of grease in random places. She goes home with greasy finger marks on her tits and her pussy dripping mechanics cum. Another dream fulfilled.

Jess always swore that it was not planned, that she just intended to inquire but things got out of hand. I have never believed her. You see somehow she got past my receptionist Alice and into the workshop where I was working and Alice knows this is a bad thing. I still suspect that Alice was bribed with an offer of a modelling job, but, be that as it maybe Jess arrived in my workshop wearing the minimum of clothing to “check up on progress”. A see through blouse with no bra, a short skirt, no panties, seamed stockings and high healed shoes. Her make up was completely over the top. The totally clichéd. A school boys wet dream to misquote a song. It was seduction on steroids from the get go.

“Alice tells me you are working so hard on my car!” Hand on my chest. Scarlet finger nails gently digging into my skin. She looks up at me and practically purrs.

What’s an honest mechanic to do? Well what I did was to lift her up off her feet and onto the bonnet of her car, roll her skirt up and apply my tongue to her clit which resulted in her grabbing me by the ears and pulling me in as deep as my face could go.

I slid a couple of fingers into her pussy and started thrusting away. It did not take long for her to get close orgasming. She was grunting “Fuck! Don’t stop!”

But of course I did stop. Turned her over on the car and stuck my not inconsiderable cock into her.

“Ah, fuck! Slowly. You’re too big.”

I ignored her complaints and slammed into her. Being so tight and hot as she was I didn’t last particularly long, dumping what was left in my balls into her. I didn’t dump much into her as Alice had sucked my cock earlier that morning. I dumped sufficient into her so that it leaked out onto her mini skirt and then onto the car bonnet. A prize to take home.

“That is a mighty fine weapon you have there soldier. Maybe we need a rematch so I can play with it a bit before you stick it in me.” Jess said straightening her clothes and smiling sexily.

A number of rematches happened in the months that followed, then she stopped calling and I tried to forget about her. Alice didn’t forget. Neither of us did. Thereafter when I called on Alice for extra curricular services she would make dark comments about me lowering my standards from society tarts to secretary tarts. Alice eventually married a guy from the tennis club and was terribly faithful to the guy for about six months. After which she started making none too subtle comments about needing a good reaming out. Seems the tennis guy didn’t provide everything she needed and so, of course I obliged. Gotta keep the staff happy don’t I?

Beth never really approved of the liaison between Jess and me, also I had heard indirectly that Jess had gotten married in the meantime hence my surprise at the invitation. And lets face it, you can’t have a society wife’s “bit if rough” swanning around with the great and the good now can you? Such creatures such as me are normally kept hidden in the shadows. Did I reject the invite I hear you ask? Of course not. I accepted because hey, what’s wrong with being able to drink free booze, leer at the upper classes and cause raised eyebrows I ask you. And being a closet Sunday painter, the art unveiling sounded Sahabet interesting. Beth’s mother was apparently an avid art collector. No, don’t raise an eyebrow and me being a painter. It isn’t polite.

So it was that on the appointed day and at more or less the appointed time I presented myself at Beth and Lionel’s home in the fine, fancy tailored suit that Jess had insisted on kitting me out in to fulfill another fantasy, namely that of being fucked in the toilet of a very swish restaurant between courses. The only fantasy that didn’t pan out for us was fucking in a hammock. We ended up underneath the hammock with me still deep inside her and us giggling like school kids. An interesting imagination she had. Still has I suppose. Lucky husband I thought to myself. I wondered if he had discovered her deeply buried kinky nature. Probably not. She needed some serious seduction to get into the less than vanilla stuff. However once she had been seduced there was not much holding her back.

I was met by a doorman who carefully examined my invite a couple of times before summoning Beth, who escorted me in. There was no sign of Jess but her mother arrived to greet me. She was small, powerful and absolutely sure of herself.

“So this is the famous David. I am Mary, mother of, ” and she paused.

“Mother of Jess?” I responded.

When I saw the wicked sparkle in her eyes I realized that she and I could possibly get along really well.

“Come along I am going to be your escort this evening. Keep you from seducing my wicked daughters.” She winked at me and led me into the reception room, already filled with the sort of people one might see in the society pages of an old fashioned newspaper or gossip website.

I was handed a glass of bubbly and we threaded our way through the crowd, stopping every now and so often to meet and greet people. I was introduced by her as “David, a close friend of Jess.”

As we emerged from the scrum of people, Jess arrived to greet me and to introduce me to her husband, a tall willowy looking man with black hair who towered over us all.

“Greg.” he said and shook hands with me, Jess kissed me on the cheek and whispered “Later!”

Mary ushered me away to “See my art collection.”

The collection was housed in a room obviously set up to house expensive artworks; overhead lights, muted colours and comfortable seats to allow you to sit and contemplate the art and the waft of wealth. An air conditioner murmured discretely in the background. In the centre of the room was an easel covered in a rich, red satin cloth.

“My latest acquisition! And no, you cannot peek. But come let me show you my other artworks.”

It is a mixed bag of painters and styles. Some old, some new. An Irma Stern rubbing shoulders with a Gerhard Marx (“So local! So new!”)

It is a conservative, investment portfolio carefully chosen to increase in value and to reflect glory on the owner.

We turn a corner and I come face to face with a painting I never expected to see again. “Rough Night at Sea”. Starting with Hokusai’s wave you strip the colour and the light to their absolute minimum, then you reconstruct the image with dark colours and a palette knife. Slashing, scraping and stabbing, the sea becomes even more vast, threatening and dangerous than Hokusai’s version. In Mount Fuji place is a tiny spark of light, faint, far away, inaccessible. There is little hope of rescue from there.

I painted it in a frenzy of despair and rage. About two years ago a casual lover saw it, loved it and told me she could sell it. I laughed at her but with my reluctant agreement she carried it away and two months later she gave me a chunk of money — minus expenses and her bet winnings. Neither she nor the gallery had any idea who had bought the painting.

Mary paused in front of it, looked up at me and then:

“I saw this painting and I was overwhelmed. I saw the raw power, the anger and the sadness and I knew I had to have it. And meet the artist. Finding you was easy. The gallery owner gave me your name and then I found that the artist was Jess’ “Bit of Rough” which completely sealed the deal. I swore the gallery owner to secrecy and here it is and here you are.”

As I stand and gape at the image, a range of emotion washes over me, but impatiently Mary tugs at my arm.

“Cummon. More to see!”

Next up is a portrait of a young child. He is three maybe four and he stares out of the painting with an innocence and directness only such a young Sahabet Giriş child can achieve.

“My grandson. Llewellyn. Isn’t he cute?” Mary gushes softly. “So like his father.”

Llewellyn does not look like Greg. The child is blonde, stocky and has piercing blue eyes. I turn to look at Mary and find her looking directly at me.

She touches my cheek next to my ear. “At first I thought that the blue eyes were just a throwback, but that isn’t it is it?”

I look back at the portrait. The attached ear lobes are distinctly and accurately described.

Involuntarily I reach up to my attached earlobe.

“Yes. That’s what alerted me. I did some research. Attached earlobes are incredibly rare. None of his family have the recessed gene. You do.”

I stare at the portrait of a son I didn’t know I had.

“I told them to invite you. We all knew about Jess’ mechanic. Even Greg. We need you to help produce another child for Jess. Greg can’t make her pregnant you see.”

“Why? What sort of joke is this? I think I need to leave. Now!

“I would recommend that you stay until you have heard me out.” steel has entered Mary’s voice and her face. I pause, think and then:

“What am I doing here?”

“I want another grandchild, and it must be your child.”

“Maybe Llewellyn wont like that idea? Maybe Jess will object. You can’t just order insemination like that.”

I snap my fingers.

“The only person who has yet to agree to the plan is you. Jess, Greg, Lionel, Beth and Llewellyn have all agreed and worked to get you here.”

“Llewellyn? He cannot be more than 4.”

“He started it. Demanding a sister. He would not take “No.” for an answer. Good obstinate stock he comes from.”

I almost inquire whose stock she is referring to but I realise I am not a factor in her scheming.

“What about artificial insemination?”

“Jess refused. Said that she wanted it natural or nothing.”

“And Greg just smiled and agreed?”

“No. He was quite upset, but he is an avaricious man. He gets a nice sweetener to smile and look the other way.”

Suddenly I don’t like Mary any more.

“This is madness. You cannot do such things.”

“Ah, but I can you see. I have a sweetener for you. More a carrot and stick to put it crudely. There is 100 000 still owing on the bond for your workshop. The moment Jess tests positive the bond is paid off. If you walk away and she still isn’t pregnant then the bank will foreclose on you.”

The twinkly Mary is gone and something far more ugly has taken her place. I am completely stunned into inaction, so she takes my arm and leads me out of the gallery.

“Come now! The unveiling will take place soon. When that is over Jess will take you to a bedroom and you both will do what comes naturally.”

I capitulate, stunned into silence. Bob Dylan once said that money doesn’t talk, it swears and money had just sworn at me.

Mary and I circulate, picking up Jess along the way. I don’t look at Jess, I can’t I am so very confused, angry and ready to throw things so I have no idea what she may be feeling. Greg is not surprisingly nowhere to be seen.

Beth rings a bell and we all troop into the gallery. Speeches are made and people applaud. The satin cover is ceremoniously removed and we all applaud a Maggie Laubscher which makes me realise the level of wealth I am dealing with.

As the ceremony comes to an end I look at Jess for the first time. She nods and gestures for me to follow her. We walk quietly away, no one seeming to notice.

We walk down a long corridor ending up at an inconspicuous door. Jess unlocks the door and we walk in and she locks it behind me.

The room we are in is not inconspicuous at all. There is a huge bed and a jacuzzi steams quietly in one corner. Jess pours bubbly into two glasses, hands me one.

“Cheers. Here to breeding strong stock.” Bitterness flavours the toast. She sighs.

“I am sorry. You are a good man. An honest man and you have been used.”

“Last time as well? You were married then?” Flickers of anger burn in me.

A nod. I look at her and remember the first time. The surge of lust, the urge to pump seed into her, to breed her in coarse terms and I realise that she is just as desirable as then, just as juicy, just as ready to be inseminated. She is now, as she was then, extremely fuckable. I want to plant babies into her belly.

“How do you feel about fucking me now? You were bubbling with lust when you got me to Sahabet Yeni Giriş fuck you on your car. You were a school boys wet dream. And now?”

“You are an extremely sexy man. And I have yet to find a cock that fits so well. I am just.. ” she gestures vaguely, helplessly.

“Embarrassed?”

She nods. Stays looking at the ground. I walk over to her, facing her.

“Down. Down on your knees!”

To my surprise she falls to her knees in front of me.

“Take my cock out!”

Meekly sh unzips my fly and takes my cock out.

“Swallow it. Bad girl!”

She opens her mouth and slowly slides my cock down her throat. All the way. She could never do that before. She pulls back, looks up at me.

“I have been practising to be able to swallow you whole.”

Something changes in me. The rage is gone. Other emotions take control. I pull her to her feet. She looks surprised, scared.

“What?” she stammers.

“My mother always said it took a man to make a girl. It’s not true but I think that we can make a child as beautiful as you if we do it right.”

“Right?”

“With gentleness, with respect and with love. Come to bed, let’s make love, not fuck.”

At which Jess bursts into tears.

I scoop her up in my arms and carry her to the bed, lay her down on her back and carefully undress her, touching her newly exposed skin with my fingers, with my lips. I kiss her nipples and slowly increase the pressure on them so that they start to harden under my lips. She likes, I remember for me to bite her nipples gently and that causes her to moan softly. I slowly work my way down to her belly button, running my tongue around the rim of it, as I do so I let my fingers slide downwards, pulling her g-string down, exposing her perfectly shaven pussy, I toss her skirt and g-string off the bed, leaving her garter belt and stockings in place. I run my finger in the crease between her pussy and her thighs, slowly running my fingers all the way down so that they just miss her arse and then I run my fingers up skirting her outer lips. I spread her legs and lower myself gently between them, breathing in the musky smell of her arousal. I flick my tongue out, finding her wetness and her now swollen pussy, her clit easily found. I slide a finger into her pussy and upwards, picking up her juices as it goes and then down so that I can slide a finger into her which causes her to gasp and pull her legs upwards, opening herself up to me. I slide two fingers into her moving slowly and rhythmically, feeling for and then finding her g-spot causing her to press down on my fingers. My sliding fingers stimulate her so that her juices are all over my hands and flowing down onto the bed. Her moans are now a rhythmic, “Oh! Oh! Oh!”. She grabs the back of my head, pressing my face down into her pussy and then grinds herself against my tongue. Suddenly she stiffens

“Oh, fuck! Yes. Don’t stop. Don’t stop!”

I feel her body starting to convulse as she starts to cum so I keep the rhythm of my fingers going and the flick of my tongue on her clit pushes her over the top and she clamps her thighs on my head and lets out a massive groan and then “FUCK!”

As she relaxes, I pull back, slide my pants down to my knees and lower myself onto her, flicking my cock on her pussy and especially on her clit. Her legs are now widely spread, her pussy wide open for me to use. I look at her and then slide the head of my cock into her and pause. I pull her head gently up and she looks at me.

“Jess. I love you.” I say and then slam my cock into her, up to the hilt. I hold for a second then pull back and start to slam into her. Her eyes never leave me as I race toward cumming in her. When I do, she reaches out and touches my face, gently, wonderingly and a single tear rolls down her face.

“You special man.”

Nothing more is said between us but we do make that bed shake numerous times until the early hours of the morning when we both collapse exhausted.

She is asleep when I leave the house, sneaking reluctantly away from her and an impossible dream.

Six weeks later I get a notification from the bank that my bond is paid off which confuses my emotions. It makes me glad, sad, then mad. Alice gets the brunt of my raging mix of emotions which escape as unquenchable lust. Not that she complains mind you. She even insists on regular rematches which have slowly become a feature of my life. A grey substitute for a dream that will never come true.

So my life goes on from day to day. I will never contact Jess or my children but sometimes I do wonder if she remembers me fondly, maybe even misses me. I sometimes dream that one day Llewellyn or his sister will search for and find me. Probably not though. No one wants a bit of rough for a relative.