Back in the day, I was an apprentice aircraft engineer at TEAL (Tasman Empire Airways Ltd), which later became Air New Zealand. It was a five-year apprenticeship, and we apprentices generally spent three months in each section of the workshops. In my first year, I spent time in engine refurbishment on Allison T56 turboprop engines, Lycoming O-360 engines and the Pratt & Whitney R2800CB engines. Plus I spent a month in the plating shop and the paint shop. We weren’t based at the Mangere Airport until a year later. Instead, we were based at Mechanics Bay, TEAL’s old Flying Boat Base, down on the edge of Auckland's Harbour.

The paint shop was a really good stint for me as I was overhauling my 1954 Matchless G45 Twin at the time and got to paint the fuel tank, side panels and my crash helmet. I got on really well with old Mac, who had worked there for about twenty years. And I was sad to learn he was retiring at the end of the year, as he had been almost a father to me.

My mates and I spent the summer holidays at a couple of beaches on the Coromandel (read my Ohope Beach story), and when we returned to work in January, we learned we had a new painter arriving from England. But he would not get there until the first week in February. Now we had a lot of English engineers working for the company, as New Zealand needed more time to train its own local engineers. The English in NZ and Australia are commonly called POMs (Prisoners of Mother England), a mildly offensive term taken with good humour by most English. The bad ones, and there were a few, were called Whinging Poms.

I was asked to work in the Paint Shop for four weeks until the new guy arrived, but I had just started in the Instrument section and pleaded to be left there, as it was one of the best and most interesting postings. So my mate Bill, who had also worked in the paint shop the previous year, got posted there instead. All the big jobs were put on hold, and he only had to do all the small urgent stuff.

When the new guy arrived, Bill was left there for a month or so to help the new guy with where everything was and how the company operated. Things didn’t work out that well right from the start. Nigel was the new painter’s name and was definitely one of the Whinging POMs; nothing in New Zealand was right with him. He was obstructive, instead of being helpful and getting on-side with all the various departments that needed his expertise; everything was an issue with him. And soon, complaints were flooding the management about him.

About three weeks in, he and Bill were having a fiery discussion, and Nigel mentioned he had daughters. Bill asked him what age they were, and when Nigel told him sixteen and eighteen, Bill replied, “No longer virgins, then.” 

Nigel lost it, went beetroot red and tried to thump Bill, who escaped and sprinted up to the Forman’s office with Nigel hot behind him. This exchange resulted in Bill being sent up to the Electronics Dept, Nigel being censured, and I was brought down from the Instrument section to work in the Paint Shop for a month. A situation I was not particularly happy about.

Management said they chose me as old Mac had spoken highly of me, and I had an easygoing nature and would be best suited to put up with Nigel while they worked at changing his ways. I also believed they chose me because I was a well-built six-one, and maybe Nigel would be less likely to tangle with me.

At the end of February, a staff picnic was held at Wenderholm, a beachside Regional Park about thirty miles north of Auckland. There were to be buses put on for the families, leaving from Mechanics Bay in Auckland Central. But my mate Alan and I had quit our flat in the city, and I had moved home to the North Shore, so I decided to take my own car as Wenderholm was only about fifteen miles from my parent’s house.

Most of my mates were attending and taking their girlfriends, but I decided not to. I had been going out with Glenys for over a year, but she lived in St Heliers to the east of the city, so I decided not to ask her, as driving over the harbour bridge to the city and then back up north seemed too much of a hassle.

I was getting on well enough with Nigel; I didn’t like the bugger but tried hard not to antagonise him. He let me know he was attending the picnic and taking his family. I must admit I was looking forward to meeting these daughters he was so protective of.

Bill was also attending the picnic, and the engine shop Forman got him aside and warned him to behave and to keep away from Nigel and his family. A couple of mates and I arrived early and got a good spot on the bank above the beach, near where the food tables were set up.

When the buses arrived around 10:30, I watched keenly as everyone disembarked. Finally, I caught sight of Nigel and his family alighting the bus. The two daughters looked to be quite pretty, so I gave the family time to get settled and then wandered over to introduce myself.

Nigel didn’t look all that impressed to see me. On the one hand, he was puffing his chest out at my being his subordinate; on the other hand, he looked like he had swallowed a very bitter pill when his wife introduced me to his daughters. The older tradesmen had often told me that if you wanted to get into a girl’s pants, you had to butter up her mother. So I turned on the charm with Nigel’s wife. Grace was her name; amazingly, she was attractive and didn’t look much older than her eldest daughter, although I found out later that she was thirty-seven. The daughters were Amie and Natalie. Both were attractive, Natalie pretty and petite like her mother, Amie taller and larger build, she took after her father.

I was surprised that Nigel’s family were so attractive. But glancing at Nigel, I was impressed that all dressed up for the picnic and clean-shaven, he was not that bad-looking. I just assumed he was an ugly bugger, as at work; he always had a morning shadow and a dower expression on his face.

Grace had me sit next to Amie, who was very keen, asking me lots of questions and noticeably preening herself to give a good impression. I was getting dirty looks from Nigel and strong hints that I had outlived my welcome. On the other side of me was the son, Andrew. He was twelve, and when he found out which car was mine and noted the surfboard on the roof, he asked me many questions about surfing. He wanted me to get the surfboard and let him have a go on it.

Wenderholm was not a surf beach; the largest wave was hardly even a foot high. So I offered to get my boogie board and show him how to use that. That sparked interest from all the kids, and soon we were all down in the water fooling around. The girls had nice one-piece costumes that showed off their shapely young figures. Of the two daughters, Natalie was just my type, attractive, petite and curvy. But I stared clear of her as Amie made it plain that I was hers. One of my mates had joined us, Steve; he had not brought his girlfriend along either, as she lived over on the other side of the city. He quickly got Natalie on his boogie board, and we helped her and Andrew surf the tiny waves.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with Amie, she looked fabulous, but I was jealous of Steve getting Natalie’s attention. She had been giving me some obvious ‘I’m available’ looks before Steve turned up, and I had been thinking of ways not to upset Amie and get some time alone with her.

Amie must have sensed I had my eye on Natalie and asked me to walk her along the beach to the entrance of the estuary. Nigel and Grace were sitting up on the bank, watching us. Grace looked impressive in a black one-piece suit that perfectly set off her pale complexion and dark hair. Nigel called out to me and asked where we were going. I called back that we were walking down to look at the old cabin by the estuary opening. He didn’t look pleased, and I thought, for a second, he would get up and walk with us. However, Grace said something to him, and he turned his attention back to the water to watch Andrew, Natalie and Steve.

When we got to the end of the beach, Amie dragged me off into some bushes and drew me in for a kiss. And before you could say ‘Jack Robinson’, she felt my cock through my board shorts. As much as I wanted to take things further, I had to stop her. Other couples were nearby, some of whom were from my work. We walked around the other side of the trees and back along the estuary. Every chance she got, Amie dragged me out of sight, kissed and ran her hands around my body. But there were far too many people around for more than quick gropes.

It was obvious that Amie was a player, so I asked her out and agreed to take her surfing with me and my mates the following Saturday. We returned to our towels and talked until the rest of the family returned from the beach. The company’s lunch was exceptional; they had a couple of barbecues cooking sausages, bacon, etc. And there were sandwiches, pastries, soft drinks, and beer.

All too soon, it was time for the buses to leave, and when we dived into the sea for a final swim, Natalie manoeuvred alongside me and grabbed my cock. Embarrassed, I wriggled away as Amie saw her, and also, their father was sitting up on the bank only thirty metres away. On the walk back to their towels, Amie was pissed with her sister and me and said she would not go out with me if I were to fool around with her sister. I cried my innocence, saying I had given Natalie no encouragement at all. Amie complained back that Natalie had tried and often succeeded in sleeping with all her boyfriends and that I was to keep away from her. Fuck, that was like a red rag to a bull to me.

As soon as her father was on the bus out of sight, I stole a quick kiss and asked if we were still on for the following Saturday. She nodded her head but warned me again to keep away from Natalie.

I should mention that I was meant to be going steady with my current girlfriend, but that was an on-and-off affair. My girlfriend Glenys would not put out; in fact, I would not get into her pants for another year and a half. And because Glenys lived so far away, I usually only saw her once a week. But the week after the picnic, Alan and I moved into a new flat in Mt Roskill, less than a mile away from Nigel and his family.

There were a couple of downsides to my moving to Mt Roskill, the worst being that the miserable POM, Nigel, started asking me for rides to work. The other was that my girlfriend Glenys thought we would start seeing more of each other as I now lived much closer. However, the day of the picnic told me that Amie was happy to put out, so It was a no-brainer that I was keen to spend some time with her and not be restricted by Glenys’s demands. I was, however, very keen on Glenys, quite besotted; in fact, and no way was I going to have Nigel as a father-in-law, so I did not want to break up with Glenys.

Alan and I had taken the Friday off and moved into the new flat. We woke early on Saturday, and Alan and my mates left for Piha before dawn. I drove around and picked up Amie at 8:00 am. As our new flat is empty, I thought it would be an excellent time to christen it. So instead of heading for Piha, I drove Amie back to our flat. Things went much easier than I expected; we were in my bed naked within minutes of opening the front door. Amie seemed keener than I to get fucking, if that could be at all possible. But she was far from being the best fuck I had had. She just lay there and let me go at it. I asked her afterwards if she had cum, and she insisted she had, but I didn’t see a lot of evidence of an orgasm. 

We joined all my mates at the beach around 11:00, and they all gave us shit. Amie wasn’t in the least put out by their ribbing, and after lunch, we snuck off into the dunes and had it off again. We were having a flat-warming party that night, so I asked her if she wanted to come with me that evening. She was very keen, and so when I got her home at about 6:00, I had to run the party past Nigel. He was not a happy camper, but Amie told him she was going anyway, and as she was eighteen, he couldn’t stop her. He gave in but said she would be home by midnight, and if she wanted to live with them, she could abide by his rules.

We snuck away to my bedroom around 10:00 and spent a good hour fucking before I took her home. I was a pretty happy camper, I can tell you; I’d had three fucks, the most I’d had in a day. For an eighteen-year-old, every fuck was incredible, but I had seen no sign of her climaxing. However, I didn’t tell my mates that.

I couldn’t see her the following week. I had night school Tuesday and Thursday nights. Glenys had something on for us Friday and Saturday nights, and Nigel was being bloody difficult anyway. He must have had a premonition I had fucked his daughter, as he had been downright shitty with me all week. I went to the Forman, who was in charge of us apprentices, had a quiet word about my situation, and got myself transferred back to the instrument section. And some other poor apprentice had to take my place in the paint shop.

The outcome of Nigel’s antagonism with me was that Grace started covering for Amie and me on Thursday nights when Nigel was out at one of his clubs. So for the next four weeks, I got to fuck Amie around the corner from their house on Thursday nights after night school. It was in the back seat of my car, not the most comfortable of places, but we didn’t want to waste time driving to my flat.

I was the talk of the town at work, as the fact I was banging Nigel’s daughter had spread like wildfire through the engine shop. No one told Nigel, though, thank god, as they were all too scared of his reaction. Incredibly, he didn’t pick up on it, though, as all of us apprentices talked and bragged about sex all the time. A hot topic was the best ways to make a girl cum. And we all agreed that muff-diving was probably the best. I had tried everything I learned on Amie but still was not sure she had climaxed, although she insisted she had.

On the fourth Thursday night, Amie asked me to visit her at her home the following Saturday. Her parents attended a Badminton club out in Waitakere every Saturday. It was around twelve miles to the West. Nigel was an A-Grade player, and they always attended the Saturday club day. I agreed to go and see her but was as nervous as hell, but she insisted, as she wanted to fuck me in her own bed. Their house was empty this particular Saturday, as Natalie was away the weekend with a friend’s family, and son Andrew was staying with a mate.

So Saturday morning, I got the call from Amie that her parents had left, and it was all clear. I parked a street away and walked to her house, not wanting a nosey neighbour to see my car and mention it to Nigel. As soon as I was through the door, Amie hustled me into her bedroom, and we stripped off our clothes. I haven’t said a lot about Amie. She was dark-haired, had a fabulous figure, and was about five foot eight. But as I have mentioned, she didn’t show much emotion in bed, and so after we had finished our first frantic fuck, I determined again that I would try and get her to show some passion.

I kept a couple of fingers inserted when we rolled apart, and as we talked and kissed, I slowly felt her hips begin to work themselves on my fingers. After a brief struggle, I wriggled my way down the bed and got my head between her legs. She had never had a boyfriend go down on her before, but soon she was moaning and thrashing about like I wanted. But suddenly, we heard her bedroom door click open. We both sat up and looked at the door; it was slightly ajar.

Amie called out, “Is that you, Natalie? Get out of here, and don’t tell Mum or Dad.”

There was total silence; no one appeared to be there.

“It must have been the wind,” I stated.

Neither of us wanted to get up and walk to the door in the nude, so we lay there for about five minutes listening intently. Finally, I figured there couldn’t be anyone there because I’d be dead if it had been Nigel. And if it was Natalie, I was pretty sure she would be giving us shit or even trying to get into the bed with us, as she was still giving me come-on looks whenever I saw her.

I had to work hard to get between Amie’s legs again, but soon I was humming on her clit and had her thrashing about in ecstasy again. But when I moved up the bed and aimed my throbbing shaft at Amie’s glory hole, I saw a shadow flick out of sight at the door opening. Small, petite and with dark hair in a bob, I knew it was Natalie. I didn’t let Amie know; I just decided to give Natalie a show to remember, so I rammed myself home, and over the next little while, I took Amie in every position I could think of.

However, when I pulled Amie up onto all fours to take her doggy, she looked around to see what I was doing and screamed. I snapped my head around. Fuck, Grace was peeking around the door frame. I caught sight of her terrified, embarrassed look before she turned and rushed away. Amie spun away from me and crawled under the covers.

“Oh, how fucking embarrassing," she cried.

“Come, I’ll go with you and explain.”

“No, I’ll never be able to face her again. How fucking embarrassing.” And she hid her face in her hands and burst into tears.

I tried to console her but was making no headway with her. And so decided I had better go see how much shit we were in and make my apologies to her mother. I got up, feeling like I had a lead weight in my stomach, pulled on my clothes and walked out. I was feeling very contrite and fearful of what ramifications there may be.

I couldn’t find Grace initially; she wasn’t in the living area or kitchen. I tentatively poked my head into her bedroom, and she wasn’t there. I finally found her in the laundry, sitting on the basket, crying her eyes out. I tried to mumble out an apology and explain myself, but she was not listening to me, and when I quietened down and listened to her anguished cries, I heard her blaming herself.

I spent the next twenty minutes consoling Grace. What a joke; I was just eighteen and had my arms around a mature thirty-seven-year-old married woman, muttering placating words in her ear. Slowly it became clear what had happened. She and Nigel had lost their first match, she had played terribly, and he had exploded. He told her to get out of his sight, fuck off home and come back and pick him up after 4:00 pm. She had hidden in the clubhouse and was heartbroken to see him approach one of the top women players and go off to play the next match with her. Knowing she could not stay and watch him flirting around, she had driven home.

On arriving home and opening their front door, she heard our amorous cries and crept to the bedroom to find out what was happening. She had eased the door open and panicked when it loudly clicked as she released the handle. She froze outside the door as we yelled, "Who's there!?" Uncertain about what to do, she had decided to drive away and sit in the car somewhere, but she heard us start making love again before she could move.

Wailing "What's wrong with her?", she told me she had snuck a look around the door and saw me between Amie’s legs. She said she knew it was wrong but couldn’t drag herself away and stayed there watching our antics on the bed. 

“I’ve only ever been with Nigel. We have done it once a week since we were married, and always in the same position. I’ve never thought about doing it in different ways. I just couldn’t believe what you were doing.” She sobbed.

I finally managed to calm her a little, and when I helped her out into the living room, there was Amie, still crying, sitting on the couch. I dragged Grace over, sat her down next to her daughter, and sat on the other side. Soon mother and daughter were in each other arms apologising to each other. I stayed for a while mediating between them, but it was really their problem to sort out. So I crept away and drove back to my flat.

Grace called me later that afternoon and said Amie wanted to end our relationship for a while, while they sorted themselves out. I made all the appropriate noises, saying I was there for her if she needed me and hung up. I was secretly happy; trying to work on dates with Amie around my seeing Glenys was difficult. And there were other girls I was keen to bonk with far less hassle than Nigel’s daughter.

The following Saturday, I woke to find I had the house to myself. This was not unusual; Alan, my flatmate, often stayed at his girlfriend’s place if he had been drinking. He usually stayed there for lunch and would arrive home midafternoon. So I decided to wash my sheets as I had the laundry to myself. I was making up my bed with clean sheets when I heard a knock on the front door. I listened but heard nothing, but leaned out my window to look anyway. And saw Grace heading back down our drive.

“Grace!” I yelled out to her, “Stay there. I’ll open the door.”

When I opened the door, Grace was reluctant to come in. She had her hands clasped in front, head bowed, and was muttering something about her never having should have come. As I have previously stated, Grace was an attractive, dark-haired and dark-eyed woman with the flawless pale white skin many English women possess.

I took her by the elbow and guided her to the couch in our lounge. It was a beautiful clear day, almost 10:30 and being late summer; the heat was still building. She looked hot, so I helped her remove her jacket before sitting. She wore a light brown dress; the top was sleeveless, with a collar and buttons down to the waist, where there was a belt in the same material, pulled tight to show her narrow waist. The lower part of the dress flared out to well below her knees. 

It was obviously her best dress, and she looked like she had just come from the hairdresser, but her makeup was smeared. I immediately realised she had done herself up to impress me and was now nervous and wishing she had not come.

“I shouldn’t have come. I haven’t slept well all week after seeing you and Amie last weekend. And Nigel doesn’t want me to go to badminton with him anymore; he has another partner there now.” she wailed.

“I’m happy to see you. Where’s your car?”

“I walked. Nigel has the car. Only the girls were at home. I told them I was walking around to visit my friend.”

She was stupid to have walked in that dress, and her shoes, although not highly healed, were not meant for walking. She was about to cry; her eyes were already moist. So I fetched a box of tissues and then sat beside her.

Throwing an arm around her shoulders, I drew her to me and asked, “Tell me what is wrong.”

I spent the next little while listening to her anguished explanations. She was rambling on and mumbling sentences into my chest. I couldn’t make out everything she said, but I managed to assimilate the following: Nigel was the only man she had ever slept with, they had sex once a week, always in the same position, and they’d married when she was seventeen. I tried to sit and listen, only offering her encouraging noises. But I couldn’t stop myself from asking her some questions. The most amazing thing I learned was that she had never orgasm. I was naive enough to think that all married couples must have sex every night, and both climax every time.

Incredulously I asked, “You have never had an orgasm?”

“No.”

“What, even when you masturbate?”

“I don’t touch myself down there. It is dirty, and I’ve been told since I was young that dirty girls could not go to heaven.” She sobbed.

It became clear to me at that moment that Grace had come around to see me, hoping to get laid and experience something like she had witnessed the Saturday before. I pulled her head up and kissed her, and she eagerly wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me back. A thousand thoughts ran through my mind about how to go about getting her into my bed and what I would do to her. Topmost was that I needed to give her an orgasm, and the best way to do that, I knew, was to go down on her.

But she was hot and sweaty, and it was common knowledge that the English guys at work only bathed once a week. In fact, one of the English guys had remarked to me that he bathed on Saturdays, whether he needed to or not. And when I replied that I showered every morning and sometimes before I went to bed at night, he responded, “That can’t be good for your skin.”

So when Grace broke apart and said she shouldn’t have come around again. I lifted her to her feet and walked her up the hall to our bathroom. She allowed me to guide her up the hall, but when I directed her into the bathroom, she hesitated and drew back, “I can’t take my clothes off. Can’t we just do it with my clothes on?”

That was when I knew for certain that I would get past first base, and it gave me the confidence to throw all caution to the wind. 

“No, I want to see you naked, and I want this to be a good experience for you. So we need to shower; you are hot and sweaty. And I began to unbutton Grace’s dress at the front. She stopped me and turned around, “There is a zip at the back.”

Then she spun back to look at me,” I have stretch marks; I’m embarrassed for you to see them.”

I ignored her, and slid the zip down, first exposing her bra strap, then her panties, “I’m not worried about stretch marks; I saw a movie where the Italian lover described them as ‘Love Wrinkles’, so let’s think of them as that.”

She looked less than convinced, but I slipped the dress from her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. I had to steel myself not to let any emotion show on my face, as when I turned her to face me, I saw that; indeed, her stomach was terribly scared. But she had a glorious set of knockers and a firm trim figure, and I felt myself harden.

We didn’t have a shower in the flat, just a bath with a shower curtain and rubber hose setup with the shower nozzle hooked onto the wall above the taps. I helped her step into the bath but didn’t get in myself. Once I adjusted the temperature, I washed her clean. She tried to turn away and wash herself, but I was having none of that. I thoroughly enjoyed soaping her and running my hands all over her body, and I saved washing between her legs until last. To say she was embarrassed would be an understatement. She had never been naked and bathed by anyone before and complained throughout. Especially when I unhooked the shower head from the wall and directed it onto her fanny, she squirmed uncomfortably at this new feeling.

Finally, I helped her out and began to dry her off, then lifted her into my arms and carried her to my bed. We lay side by side, and when I stuck my hand between her legs, she hid her face in the nape of my neck to hide her nervousness.

“Don’t be shy.” I admonished her, “You should be proud of your body. You are a beautiful woman.”

Grace responded by burying her head deeper and mumbling that she wasn’t. I lifted her head and kissed her, then licked my way down her neck, breasts, and stomach until I reached her mound. She squirmed around, embarrassed at what she knew was coming, but I persisted and finally managed to force her legs apart and start parting her beaver with my tongue. And ‘Beaver’ is apt, as she had an impressive bush of fine black hair.

I must have paid attention to her Pink Pearl for half an hour before she anxiously pulled me up on top of her, yelling she could not take anymore. I tried to get her to hold my cock and direct it into her love canal, but she would not touch herself or me, so I had to direct the old fella in myself. Then I took my time and tried to hold out and give her an orgasm. But I doubt if I lasted for more than five minutes, I was so aroused by the dangerous, sinful experience.

Afterwards, I asked Grace if she had had an orgasm. She told me she couldn’t have them, and I was not to worry about her. And that it had been the first sex she had ever enjoyed. She wanted to get up and leave before my flatmate returned. I held her back, telling her he wouldn’t be home for at least two hours. But she was very uncomfortable and escaped my clutches, grabbed her clothes and raced off to the bathroom to dress.

I pulled on shorts and a T-shirt and waited for her in the lounge. When she appeared, Grace looked much as she had when she arrived, except for her hair, so I made her sit, got out the flats hairdryer, and put a bit of life back into it.

I didn’t tell anyone about her visit; shit scared that Nigel would find out. I had no idea if I would ever see her again, but I doubted I would. However, the following Saturday, I woke up to an empty house and glanced wistfully down our road, hoping to see Grace walking toward me. By eleven o’clock, I had given up and was cleaning my motorbike when she walked up behind me.

One look at her face and I knew this would end in trouble. Her eyes shone, and her body exuded an unwavering confidence that had not been there the week before. She glanced around, then lifted her skirt to show me her new sexy panties.

“I’ve been shopping and bought these just for you.”

If I’d had an ounce of sense, I would have turned her away, but what eighteen-year-old, with his cock starting to stand, has any sense.

I couldn’t speak. I just took Grace’s hand and walked her inside. We went straight to the bathroom.

“I don’t need a shower; I washed before I left home.”

“I like washing you.”

“Then wash me afterwards,” she replied.

So we bounded into my bedroom, and she let me undress her. Once between the sheets, I wriggled down between her legs and was soon munching on her hairy wet cunny. As I ate her, I inserted a couple of fingers and frigged her like mad. It took a while, but eventually, she tensed up and jerked her bum around. She didn’t utter a sound, but I knew she had had her first orgasm.

I tried to discuss it with her afterwards, but it was like getting blood from a stone. She was too embarrassed. Grace wanted to leave, but I held her tight and insisted we would have the flat to ourselves for at least three hours. Slowly I managed to get Grace talking. She didn’t open up much, but I did manage to get her to admit she had fantasised about different sexual positions but would not tell me what they were.

Still, an hour later, when I had her a bit eager again, I managed to get her to try sucking my cock. And when she had it good and hard, I got her on top of me and into the cowgirl position. And with lots of encouragement, I had her try some tentative thrusts. It took a while more before she started to move on her own, and it wasn’t too long before she was sitting up, letting me play with her tits, and bouncing around with some enthusiasm.

Grace had another orgasm; this time, she let out some pleasurable grunts as she came. Progress, I was feeling very pleased with myself. But afterwards, she was dressed and out the door in a rush. But I managed to get her to commit to returning the following Saturday.

Grace turned up on my doorstep the following three Saturdays. She never completely lost her shyness, but as she was so submissive (something I did not know anything about at that tender age), I did manage to push her into trying many different positions. Her favourite was ‘Doggy’, or lying on her stomach, as she loved being taken from behind. And on those subsequent Saturdays, she let me wash her under the shower before she left for home.

On the sixth Saturday, Alan, my flatmate, left to go surfing very early. He was puzzled as to why I didn’t want to go and questioned what he had on that was so important. I had not dared tell him about Nigel’s wife. Grace turned up, as usual, at around 11:00, and we were in the sack within minutes of her entering the flat. I wanted to try something new as I had been reading about exhibitionism. So I hauled her out of bed, stark naked, and through to our lounge, where we had a window seat with a good view of the front lawn and street. I made her kneel on the seat with her hands on the window sill and entered her from behind. She was mortified at first but soon loved it. People were walking past and looking up at the house. These pedestrians would have seen little more than her head, but it turned her on. I’m sure she came more than once, or maybe it was one long orgasm. But whatever, it was the best sex we had had.

Afterwards, we went back to the bedroom and cuddled. Half an hour later, I was ready to go again, and this day, Grace was just as keen as me for a second session. I dragged her out to the lounge again, bucking and screaming that she shouldn’t. But once I had her in the lounge, she took over. I couldn’t get her back in the window box. Instead, she wanted to do it on our dining table. She bent over the table so I could take her from behind. But I wanted to watch her cum and play with her tits, so I grabbed a cushion, placed it under her head, and laid her on her back. I had her with her bum almost hanging off the table’s edge and pushed her knees up alongside her beautiful tits. It was such a turn-on; I nearly came just looking at her. 

Every time I thrust into her, she let out a little groan. Her hands were hooked under her knees, pulling her legs as far apart as she could get them. She became quite vocal, asking me to fuck her hard and squeeze her tits. Fantastic progress from the silent, timid woman from only weeks before. Her orgasm rapidly grew until Grace climaxed with a long animalistic wail. It was a deep, intense, sudden one that had her writhing around and moaning about how good it was. 

Then there was a cough and an ‘excuse me’ from the lounge room door, which Grace didn’t hear at first, as she was so engrossed in her climax. But I heard it, and as wave after fabulous wave ran through her, and her body went into involuntary spasms, I jerked around to see Alan standing in the doorway. Grace, brought back to her senses by my sudden movement, also focused and saw Alan.

She was up off the table in a flash, nearly knocking me over, as she raced past Alan and hid in our bedroom. I tried to console her but had no chance. She dressed and was out the door, racing down the street just fifteen minutes after Alan coughed.

I hoped Alan would not recognise her. But no such luck; he called me a dirty, rotten, lucky bastard even before Grace turned the corner at the bottom of our street. And although I tried to make him promise to tell no one, the whole Mechanics Bay staff knew about my affair before lunch on Monday.

Monday afternoon, the Superintendent called me to his office. I knew I was in the shit; you only got to see him when you were in trouble. I’d never even spoken to him directly before. He told me to sit and then asked if the rumour he was hearing was true. I had no idea how to answer him and asked, “What rumour?” hoping it was not what I knew it would be.

“That you are fucking Nigel’s wife!”

His statement saved me. He was human. He had said Fuck! I just nodded. He was great, very considerate. He acted more like a father than a boss and asked how the affair happened. I answered his questions, and by the time we finished, I had the feeling he was rather in awe of what I’d gotten up to.

Shaking his head, he exclaimed, “Well, we need to get you out of here before I have a murder on my hands. Go clear out your locker and get your toolbox, then go home and stay there until I give you a phone call. I have a solution in mind, but I need to make phone calls.” 

He phoned me that evening. I was to be on a plane for Wellington the next day, where I would be working for the next two months. Air NZ had an outstation there, servicing the Lockheed Electra’s that arrived from Sydney daily.

It was very unusual for a year two apprentice to be sent to an outstation; I’m pretty certain I was the first. It was a posting customarily reserved for the year four and five apprentices. 

When I returned to Auckland three months later, Mechanics Bay workshops were in the process of closing, and all the divisions were moving into the new premises at Mangere Airport. There was a new paint shop at Mangere, but Nigel never made the move. And I kept my head down and did not ask anyone what had happened to him.

*

Epilogue. 

Six years later, after I had returned from my four-year OE in England, I ran into Natalie at a nightclub. She was with some guy who gave me filthy looks when she enthusiastically came over and threw her arms around me. I questioned her about the family, and she told me her mother had remarried and was very happy. Obviously, I asked her what had happened to her father. She said he had had an affair at the badminton club and had run afoul of the woman’s husband and that when he and her mother had separated, he packed up and returned to England. I also asked about her sister, and she told me that Amie had married and moved to Australia. 

Natalie gave me her phone number and made me promise to call, but as much as I wanted to, I saw sense and never did. Something I now regret, but that is life.