crashing off the Vanilla Road...

Me and Vanilla have never been comfortable bed-fellows - literally. I learned pretty early that my 'talents' lay in other directions, but that didn't stop me from me travelling the Vanilla Road now and then. And that despite more than one 'car crash'.

When i was eighteen, and not yet decided in what i should do with my life, i took a job in a builder's yard. It was heavy work, but i was a strong boy - already broad across the shoulders - and within days i was keeping up easily with the 'old hands'. What i lacked in their brute strength i made up for in speed and determination.

The yard manager had a daughter who worked as some sort of receptionist. She was a tall girl in her early twenties, lithe and thin hipped, and not given to smiling much. On Friday's she handed out our wages in little grey envelopes, and gave as good as she got from the men who would take turns (when the boss wasn't around) to tell her how they could put a smile on her face.

'Nothing a good cock couldn't cure...!' they would suggest.

'Well,' she would reply, her expression flat. 'If you ever suck a good cock.. do let me know.'

She was a handsome rather than a pretty girl. Though she had good features she had obviously suffered from acne when she was younger and it had left its scars - but only on her face. She knew that she was more than attractive and if she had little time for men - or so it seemed - if was only because she knew - deep under her skin - that she could afford to be fussy. For though she was not pretty in any conventional sense, by the confident way that she held herself, and by her manner she conspired, somehow, to be rather beautiful.

As last boy in i was always last to collect my envelope. On the third Friday the tall girl (J) smiled. It was not a shy smile and, pleasingly, it extended all the way to her jade eyes. Perhaps i looked a little surprised because something in my expression actually made her giggle. J was not a girly sort of girl so the giggle was a little.. incongruous.

'My dad's out.. Sunday.' she said, still smiling.

When i was out again in the yard i saw that J had written her address on the back of my envelope and under it a time: 2pm. I put the envelope in one pocket and the money in the other, and i made my way home. As a seventeen year old, and clearly having been propositioned, you might have expected me to have had something of a spring in my step. Instead there was only doubt. My instincts told me that J (for all her sexual banter) was a mild sort when it came to the sexual act itself.
Something she confirmed almost immediately i arrived that Sunday afternoon.

'No.. funny stuff,' she said, stern again for that moment. 'I don't do any... funny stuff.'

That clear she smiled again and invited me inside. A little at a loss what she meant by 'funny stuff' i asked her directly to clarify.

'You know...!' she said.

I told her that i did not know. My experiences with J.B. and, to a lesser extent with my neighbour (C) had involved quite a bit of 'funny stuff' and so i was genuinely unsure what J. might consider... acceptable.

J said she didn't really want to talk about and that we should just go upstairs and 'do it', and then it would be 'done'.

'You can do me hard,' she said. 'I don't mind that... but.. no... 'funny stuff'.'

I allowed myself to be led upstairs with growing sense of bewilderment. I tried to make a list of what might be permitted, or not permitted - mostly based things i had read in my mother's 'romantic novel' collection. So lot's of 'throbbing' and 'smouldering' and... neck kissing and 'alabaster breasts' heaving... and... not a lot else as far as i could tell.

Almost silently J undressed and everything was very neat and pert as she draped herself on top of her bed. She lay there for a moment with her ankles crossed and arms arranged in a manner she probably imagined to be seductive and when she saw that i hadn't moved towards she said:

'Aren't you going to.. do me?'

Still not having quite defined 'funny business' i nodded and undressed. I found that if i concentrated on the obvious arousal of her nipples (though it may only have been the chill in the air), and the neat little tuck of her pussy i could sustain a reasonably convincing erection. J certainly seemed convinced.

'Oh yes,' she said. 'You can do me with that.'

She waited until i was on the bed beside before she relaxed her legs enough to allow them to parted - and then, only a little way. I turned out that J. considered even foreplay to be too much like 'funny stuff' and said she didn't like to be... 'fingered like that'. She looked positively alarmed when i attempted to move down her body with my mouth. The moment my lips strayed from her nipples - which she said was: 'quite nice really' - she pulled head back upwards.

'Oh i don't like... that!'

J explained to me, as though i was a child i thought, that women's 'private parts' were... 'dirty' and couldn't possibly be.. hygienic.. not to... kiss.

'Then you'd expect to kiss me and... well... i don't want to kiss that.. do i?'

I'm sure all of this sounded quite reasonable to J, but I think i almost laughed when she said it out loud.

'Why don't you just... you know... put it in me. I like that!'

I parted her labia with my fingers - they were hardly swollen and she barely damp between. I was far from convinced that she was really ready to be penetrated but, perhaps it was my youth, i felt obliged to... oblige her.

'Oh yes,' she said, dryly.

She was almost painfully tight but any attempt on my part to relax her only seemed to make her more tense.

'Not that!' she said, when i slipped my hand between us to slip a finger along her clitoris.

'Not that,' she said when tried to tease her by slipping the tip of my cock along the inner parts of her labia.

'Just do me,' she said, and, i did.

And, as i 'did her' she lay almost completely still, her face expressionless, her eyes firmly closed. When i had been 'doing her' for around four minutes she shuddered and sighed and then lay still again as i continued to work my cock deep inside her. She was wetter then and, at last, for me there was some little pleasure in it. It didn't last long.
As i tried to lift her knees so that i could get some deeper purchase she stiffened again, opened her eyes and said:

'I've come now...! i'd rather you got off...!'

That did make me laugh. Because it was clear that she did not want me inside her any longer i withdrew without any further prompting. I did point out that though she had 'come' i had not. Careful not to look at my cock she said that she was surprised to hear that but wasn't sure what I wanted her to do about that.

I had one or two suggestion but i kept them to myself. I liked my job and i suspected that the wrong word at that time would have seen me sacked.

'You can use the bathroom if you want to finish yourself off.' she suggested, not unhelpfully.

I said that it was fine and i should get going anyway as my mother would be expecting me for dinner. J had pulled the bed clothing around her so that only her head was visible - her hair was remarkably neat still and there wasn't one bead of sweat on her. She looked relieved that i had agreed to go so easily.

I dressed quickly. As i put on my shoes she said that it had been 'very nice' but added that it was probably best we didn't do it again. Trying not to sound too swift to agree i said that i though that she was probably right.

Looking back i have a vague suspicion that J might, over time, have been tempted from the Vanilla Road. Perhaps if i had been a little older and more sure of myself i might have been the one to lead her astray - eventually.

Though, with age comes a certain wisdom and, perhaps, these days i would look a woman like j in the eye, and be wise enough to trust my instincts - and not even bother to try.....

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