Part One:

2010 slipped into 2011 without incident; it was, however, a strange year. With my workshop knowledge, I was promoted to Bus and Coach supervisor and given various roles from engineering to driver training, and my hours varied. I bought an old van that I converted to a sort of camper and bought a seven-seater. Ellen, my wife, took on some home-based catalogue work but kept on her full-time job, and we had the prospect of moving into our first house.

Part Two:

My wife hosted one of those Ann Summers events. I’d forgotten about it, actually and had walked in when it was in full swing. Ellen had asked me if I could drop some of the girls off uptown or the train station or home. I was happy to do so. I had Charlotte, Sandra, and Louise and a couple of others. Louise was a strawberry blonde, a pale-skinned blue-eyed girl who was quite open-minded.

Dirty conservation continued in the car, to my embarrassment. Significantly, a few questions were asked, and Louise revealed her boyfriend didn’t like going down on her and only fucked her once or twice a month but wanted blow jobs all the time. Poor cow, I thought and felt sorry for her. Sandra said she couldn’t have kids and hadn’t fucked a guy for ages, and Charlotte, who I had some sexual banter with earlier in our kitchen said she might have sex with somebody she shouldn’t. It all meant nothing at the time but would come to mind later. In fact, two of them very soon.

Part Three:

The following Sunday had been poor weather-wise. Overnight rain and heavy winds had caused flooding in many areas and I had been woken early to help recover a couple of buses that managed to get themselves into trouble. I was glad to be finished and headed home along Brighton seafront. It was still windy, but the rain had stopped. The roads were quiet, thankfully, and very few people were about.

I saw the girl in the distance; she was walking at a fast pace. She was about five feet four and slim by the look of her and wearing jeans and a beige anorak. She was heading for the junction I intended turning into. She briefly looked back and increased her pace. A mirror check told me she was probably going to catch the bus in the distance. The stop I knew was just past the junction.

I wanted to see what she looked like and estimated we would reach the junction at the same time. I got there just ahead of her and was looking at her as I turned. I didn’t see the large floodwater and hit it, sending a torrent all over the girl. I braked to a halt and slid out the driver’s seat already hearing a barrage of foul-mouthed words coming from the girl.

I walked back and instantly recognised Sandra. She was dripping wet. Her jacket zipper wasn’t done up. She stared at me, calling me all the arseholes, and I deserved every word. I stood there looking at her as water dripped from her face and she calmed a little. At that moment, the bus passed and sent her off into another tirade. That was the last one that served her village and the next one was another hour, and that didn’t go all the way and she would have to walk three miles.

I took a bit more abuse then told her I was sorry of course and said I’d buy her a coffee and run her home. She angrily said it would take more than that. We got in the car and I put the heating on as she pulled her wet jacket off and put it in the back. I made tracks back along the seafront, but Sandra was still moaning about being soaked. Her jacket zipper had broken had her tee-shirt was wet.

I pulled in at a mini-golf course and got Sandra to look in my work bag. There was one of my old work shirts that she pulled out. We sat in the car and to my surprise, she pulled her tee-shirt off, revealing her breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Her breasts were firm and fair sized. I smiled remembering the camel-toe vision too and looked away feeling just a twitch in my pants. She pulled my shirt on and tucked it into her jeans. She placed her wet stuff close to the various heaters as I drove off.

There was a takeaway that was surprisingly open despite the weather, and I pulled in and obtained burgers and coffee while Sandra freshened up in the toilets. The rain began to fall again, and the wind started picking up. It was howling outside, and the rain belted down hard. I slipped off my jacket and gave it to Sandra and clutching our takeaways dashed to the car. We ate as we drove, and I was telling her about our new house that we were moving into soon.

When she’d finished eating, Sandy found her hairbrush and put her black hair up into a ponytail. I eyed her as we went along the coast road, and despite her teeth with braces and teenaged acne, she looked good. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her, she looked so different from the scruffy and grubby girl I knew.

The wind was really picking up now and blowing the car around. I turned off the coast road, taking a road that would take us up towards her village close to Lewes. Sandra voiced her concerns about the weather. The rain was coming down so hard you couldn’t see a damn thing. We decided we should find somewhere to stop for a while until the rain reduced a bit.

I found a layby and pulled in. We sat and small talked, but something was in the air. I looked across at her pretty face and snatched a look at her breasts outlined in my shirt. I eyed down her body and looked between her legs. I remembered she’d made no attempt to cover her camel-toe when she knew I was looking there and today unconcerned about showing her breasts and the comment she hadn’t been with a guy for ages. I wondered if she had wanted sex with me. I wanted to find out, and the thought aroused me.

“Hey, Sandy, I must say you look hot and sexy like that.”

“Are you taking the piss?” she said with a slightly miffed tone.

“No, not at all. You look good.”

“Yeah, right! I broke up with my boyfriend nearly a year ago and guys don’t seem to like me,” she said with a slight sorrowful tone.

“I’m surprised you haven’t got a boyfriend, you're so sexy.”

“Thanks, but I’m an ugly bitch and guys don’t even want to shag me.”

“You’re not an ugly bitch. If I wasn’t married, I’d shag you.”

Sandra eyed me with a shocked look on her face. “What?”

“Said I’d shag you.”

She eyed me with suspicion. “You’d shag me?”

“Yes. I’d shag you.”

She went quiet and I thought I’d upset her. “Sorry if I’ve said something out of order and upset you.”

“No, you haven’t upset me, just surprised me a little that you’d shag me if you weren’t married, that’s all.”

I put my hand across her lap and patted the top of her thigh. “Well, to be honest, I’d shag you anyway.”

She smiled and answered, “Yeah, right, you're just being nice to make me feel good.”

“I’m not,” I said and pushed my hand between her legs and held it there.

“Not sure if you’re serious,” she said, looking at me, parting her legs and rubbing her groin in circular movements on my hand.

“I’m serious,” I told her, pressing my fingers up between her legs. I rubbed the palm of my hand on her groin and pushed my fingers into her pussy more through her jeans. I demanded she open her legs more. She did, and I had the idea she was submissive. I quickly demanded she undo her jeans.

Sandra looked at me with an expectant look on her face and quickly unzipped her jeans. I eagerly got the seats down and leaned across her, grabbing one of her hands and pulling it across to my tent. She parted her legs and relaxed as my fingers yanked her knickers and jeans down. My fingers unbuttoned the shirt, and I explored her breasts. At the same time, Sandra felt my bulge and struggled with getting my trousers open, but eventually she had her hand and fingers wrapped around it.

She was muttering how big and thick my cock was. It was rock hard and almost bursting. I wanted her now. “You want it in that juicy cunt of yours.”

“Yes, but it’s big.”

“Get in the back on your knees, then. I promise I will go easy on you.”

Sandra quickly sat up and climbed into the back and knelt on the floor by the middle seat; a quick readjustment of the seatbacks and I joined her, kneeling directly behind her. “You can’t have kids, right?” I enquired, pulling her knickers and jeans down to her ankles.

“No,” she answered.

“You okay with getting spunked up?” I asked, pushing her over the middle seat.

“Yes. If you want to,” she answered as I held my cock in one hand and pulled an arse cheek away to see her pussy.

My cock touched her lips and I eased in an inch. She grunted noisily as I eased slowly but surely inside her. Her inners stretched open and her own juices lubricated her tightness, and I was fully inside her. I eased back, thrusting in with a steady pace, calling her a sexy bitch. That turned her on even more. I increased the pace, gradually building up momentum until I was slamming her hard.

Her pussy exploded in a torrent of her juices and she grunted as I slowed my pace and banged her with short hard strokes. I didn’t want this to end, but Sandra said she was getting sore and beginning to hurt. I increased my pace and reached the point of no return. I stabbed in hard and held it inside her.

“Going to cum,” I moaned slowly, pushing in more.

“Fill me with spunk then, you dirty bastard,” she moaned, pushing back on me. She flinched and mumbled with delight, feeling my hot fluid splashing her inners, “Oh yes, that’s a nice feeling.”

I pulled out and jerked the remainder over her arse and back. I relaxed on my bent legs, looking at her pussy. It glistened with wetness and her black hairs showed driblets of pussy cream and cum. A small wad of thick cum started to trickle out from between her pussy lips. Sandra straightened and immediately pulled her knickers and jeans up.

We returned to the front seats and relaxed with our warm coffees. The rain and wind continued as we chatted about nothing and everything. Soon the weather improved enough for me to drive her home. She quickly grabbed her jacket from the rear seat and her damp tee-shirt. She smiled sexily at me and then to my surprise revealed, “I know about you and Sarah!”

I was shocked, to say the least. How she knew and what she knew I never enquired, but she told me she wanted me to fuck her, and now that I had, she was happy. I was going to have to be careful, but that was my last adventure with the wife’s co-workers. As for Sandra, I didn’t see her that often, and she acted no differently around me but disappeared if my wife was around.